“Profound” Misunderstanding: Why The Lancet Commission on Autism & The Guardian Got It Wrong


[Please note: there is a blog version, a downloadable essay version, and a downloadable easy-read version, dependent on your reading preferences. Click the heading for easy read and/or essay versions in the content list above]


February 2026 and The Guardian publishes another “autism” article, the hot topic for many news outlets in recent years. This time, informing the public that:

A new diagnosis of ‘profound autism’ is under consideration. Here’s what parents need to know.
Category describes people who have little or no language, an IQ of less than 50 and require 24-hour supervision…

The Guardian picked up on the “profound autism” narrative from a Commission piece from 2022, when The Lancet published what it presented as a landmark Commission on the future of care and clinical research in autism. Led by Catherine Lord and Tony Charman, this 64-page document promised to answer a question that matters deeply to Autistic people and their families worldwide: what can be done, right now, to address our needs?

I read it with hope. I finished it with frustration.

I argue that this Commission – for all its scale, for all its data, for all its institutional weight – fundamentally misunderstands what Autistic people need, misrepresents the evidence it claims to champion, and contradicts itself on some of the most critical points it raises. Worse still, it does all of this without meaningful input from the very people it claims to serve.

Nothing About Us, Without Us – Except This, Apparently

Let me start with what should be the most basic requirement for any document that presumes to shape the future of Autistic lives: Autistic involvement.

This Commission lists researchers, clinicians, and a small number of advocates among its contributors. But there is no evidence of meaningful Autistic co-production in its design, methodology, or conclusions. There is no evidence of family involvement in shaping its recommendations. The case studies in Panel 1 – Adir, Franco, Sofia, Samir – are written about Autistic people, not by them. Their stories are told through the lens of parents, carers, and professionals.

This is not a minor oversight. It is a structural failure. The House of Lords’ Time to Deliver report (2025) makes the principle clear: co-production means Autistic people and those who support them have an equal role in designing and delivering policy and services. As Stephen Kinnock MP put it, any strategy developed in the “ivory tower of Whitehall or Westminster” – or, one might add, the ivory tower of academia – without genuine co-production is “doomed to fail.”

The Commission talks about Autistic people. It does not talk with them. And that distinction matters enormously when you are proposing new categories, new labels, and new frameworks that will shape how Autistic people are understood, treated, and resourced for decades to come.

The “Profound Autism” Problem

The Commission’s most controversial proposal is the introduction of a new administrative term: “profound autism.” This would apply to Autistic people who require 24-hour access to a carer, cannot be left alone, and cannot manage basic daily needs independently. The Commission defines this not by Autistic characteristics, but by co-occurring learning disability (an IQ below 50) and/or being non-speaking or minimally speaking.

I want to be direct about what is happening here. This term does not describe a type of autism. It describes the intersection of autism with other experiences and conditions that have their own research bases, their own communities, and their own needs. By collapsing everything into a single label attached to autism, the Commission obscures rather than illuminates the support needs involved. It reinstates functioning labels by another name – precisely the binary that the Autistic community has spent years explaining is harmful – and then wraps it in the language of advocacy, as though pathologising people more thoroughly is somehow doing them a favour.

A Commission That Contradicts Itself

Here is what strikes me most forcefully about this document: it contradicts itself on one of the most fundamental points it raises.

On page 274, the Commission states clearly that “the presentation of autism changes over time, requiring different interventions across the life span.” It discusses heterogeneity at length. It acknowledges that clinical presentations vary, that needs fluctuate, and that early childhood profiles do not reliably predict adult outcomes. It even notes that some children initially meeting “profound autism” criteria moved out of that category between the ages of 9 and 18, as a result of changes in language and cognitive development.

And then, in the very same document, the Commission proposes a fixed diagnostic sub-category – “profound autism” – defined by static criteria applied from early school age onwards. It acknowledges, almost in passing, that this term is “not appropriate for young children” because presentations change. But it still proposes it as a stable, lifelong administrative designation.

Quite simply, you cannot simultaneously argue that autism presentations are fluid and then propose a fixed label based on a snapshot of ability at one point in time. These two positions are logically incompatible. The Commission appears not to notice this contradiction, or if it does, it does not resolve it.

Women Don’t Have “Different Autism” – They Experience Different Prejudice

The Commission’s treatment of gender is another area where the framing goes wrong. Throughout the document, there is an implicit suggestion that autism may present differently in women and girls – that there is something about “female autism” that warrants separate investigation.

I want to be clear: there is no “female autism.” There is autism. What differs is not the neurology, but the response to it. Women and girls (and non-binary and trans people) are subject to different societal expectations, different diagnostic biases, and different forms of prejudice. They are more likely to mask. They are more likely to be misdiagnosed with borderline personality disorder, eating disorders, or anxiety conditions before anyone considers autism. They are more likely to have their needs dismissed.

This is not a neurological difference. It is a prejudice difference. It is neurosexism playing out in diagnostic systems that were built around a narrow, male-centric prototype of autism. And when a Commission of this stature frames the issue as though women have a different “presentation” of autism, rather than naming the systemic bias that causes them to be missed, it reinforces the very problem it claims to want to solve. As the Time to Deliver report heard, better understanding of autism in women and girls is key – but the barrier is not that their autism is different: it is that the systems designed to identify it are inadequate.

The Evidence Problem: Championing Interventions the Evidence Doesn’t Support

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this Commission is its insistence on “evidence-based intervention” whilst simultaneously championing approaches for which the evidence is, to put it charitably, weak.

The Commission places considerable emphasis on early intensive behavioural intervention (EIBI) – approaches rooted in applied behaviour analysis (ABA) delivered at high intensity (20 to 40 hours per week) over multiple years. These are presented as among the more “well-established” treatments for autism.

But what does the actual evidence say? The Cochrane Collaboration – the gold standard for systematic reviews of healthcare interventions – reviewed EIBI in 2018 and found precisely this: “there is weak evidence that early intensive behavioral intervention (EIBI) is an effective treatment for children diagnosed with autism spectrum disorders.” The review found no evidence that EIBI reduces the severity of autism or changes so-called “problem behaviour.” The evidence quality was rated as low to very low, based on just five studies, only one of which used a randomised controlled design.

Let me say that again. The Commission positions itself as a champion of evidence-based practice – and then promotes interventions that Cochrane reviews describe as weakly evidenced. This is not merely inconsistent. It is the kind of inconsistency that has real consequences for Autistic children and their families, who may be directed towards intensive, expensive, and potentially harmful programmes on the basis of a prestigious Commission’s endorsement.

And the Commission does not engage meaningfully with the growing body of evidence – including from Autistic researchers and the Autistic community – suggesting that ABA-based approaches may cause psychological harm. The Commission does not address this. It does not wrestle with the ethical implications of subjecting young Autistic children to 40 hours a week of compliance-based training. It simply assumes that more intervention, delivered earlier and more intensively, is better. This assumption is not supported by the evidence it claims to value.

What Should Have Been Written Instead

This Commission had the resources and the platform to do something transformative. What it should have done is centre the question that the neurodiversity paradigm asks: not “how do we change Autistic people?” but “how do we change the environments that disable them?”

It should have started from the principle that Autistic people – all Autistic people, including those with learning disabilities, those who are non-speaking, and those who need lifelong support – are whole human beings whose quality of life depends far more on the environments they inhabit and the support they receive than on any category we attach to them.

It should have engaged with the evidence on what actually improves Autistic wellbeing: community, belonging, Autistic identity, accessible environments, and relationships built on understanding rather than compliance. It should have asked Autistic people – genuinely, meaningfully, as co-producers and decision-makers – what they need. And it should have held itself to the same evidence standards it demands of others, rather than endorsing behavioural interventions that its own cited evidence base does not convincingly support.

Ultimately, the word “profound” in this Commission should describe the change we commit to making – not the label we attach to the people who need it most.

Dr Chloe Farahar is an Autistic researcher, educator, and Programme Manager for the Learning Disability and Autism Programme at Kent and Medway Mental Health NHS Trust.

References

Bottema-Beutel, K., Kapp, S.K., Lester, J.N., Sasson, N.J. and Hand, B.N. (2021) ‘Avoiding ableist language: Suggestions for autism researchers’, Autism in Adulthood, 3(1), pp. 18–29.

House of Lords Autism Act 2009 Committee (2025) Time to Deliver: The Autism Act 2009 and the New Autism Strategy. London: House of Lords.

Lord, C., Charman, T., Havdahl, A. et al. (2022) ‘The Lancet Commission on the future of care and clinical research in autism’, The Lancet, 399(10321), pp. 271–334.

NHS England (2025) Autism-Informed Inpatient Care. London: NHS England.

Reichow, B., Hume, K., Barton, E.E. and Boyd, B.A. (2018) ‘Early intensive behavioral intervention (EIBI) for young children with autism spectrum disorders (ASD)’, Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews, Issue 5, Art. No.: CD009260.

Walker, N. (2021) Neuroqueer Heresies: Notes on the Neurodiversity Paradigm, Autistic Empowerment and Postnormal Possibilities. Fort Worth: Autonomous Press.


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Sharing the Canopy

By Thomas Delahunt & Dr Chloe Farahar
For The Poetic Nursing Heart

Aucademy interview special with Tom about the importance of neurodivergent spaces to be released December 2025. When released, Find the interview on our YouTube channel.


Tom provides audio of his written piece, transcript found below

Sharing the Canopy: Tom Delahunt

“When trees grow together, nutrients and water can be optimally divided among them all so that each tree can grow into the best tree it can be.” Peter Wohlleben, The Hidden Life of Trees (2016)

In The Butterfly Farmer, I explored safety as something grown, not built nurtured through relationship rather than prescribed. A cocoon is only safe because the world around it allows it to be. It is a space of quiet transformation, a place of suspension and trust.

Lately, I’ve been thinking again about trees and their canopy, how they share the light within their branches. It recalls Peter Wohlleben’s words, and it reminds me of Chloe’s work, alive with connection, awareness, and care. Beneath the soil, roots meet fungi, fungi meet stone, and stone meets water. There is no hierarchy, only a web, each thread alive to the other’s pulse. And perhaps that is the truest form of equality: the unseen brilliance that binds us. The mycelium beneath mirrors the stars above, weaving light and life in opposite directions. Between them, we learn what it means to belong to both earth and sky.

As I sit with that image, I think of Fred again’s line:  “I found you, the one who cares.”
Listen here

Isn’t that what we’re really doing, in the classroom, in the forest, in the poems and pauses between words? We are finding the ones who care, those who see us not for productivity but for our pulse. To build a canopy where light is shared freely, where safety grows from reciprocity.

Safety, however, does not appear by accident. It must be made. It takes intention, humility, and often a quiet struggle. Hatred breeds hatred, as La Haine reminds us; if we are to stop that cycle, we must plant something tender, radical, and alive. This work – this Middle-earth battle for inclusion – is fought not with swords, but with care, art, and listening. It is a battle of roots, not power.

Soon, Chloe and I will meet in a space I have held as safe a quiet view offered by Lizzie, a place where reflection, connection, and understanding can unfold fully. It is a space to witness tendencies, to explore pulse and presence, to discover light shared in its most tender form. There, with Steve capturing the moment on video, the canopy we share will take shape not only in thought, but in sight, sound, and feeling.

And so, I will ask Chloe: what does the canopy mean to you? How do you find and share light within the academic forest? What sustains your roots when the soil feels thin?

And I wonder, quietly, what spaces will I find next, beneath the canopy of those who care?

Picture of Tom in the HoboPoet Hut, Chloe looking in.

Chloe provides audio of their written piece, transcript found below

Response to Tom: Chloe, Sharing the Canopy

Tom, your canopy metaphor resonates. It reminds me of the difference between two worlds I’ve lived in: the “culture of autism” and Autistic culture. One traumatised and pathologised me. The other helped heal.

The “culture of autism” gave me a vocabulary of deficit. Before diagnosis even, my Autistic behaviours and way of being were assaulted. The pre-diagnosis and then diagnosis labels were etched into my skin with black markers by others.  “Persistent impairment in reciprocal social communication” – a warning label, not a description of my experience. I was communicating. They just weren’t listening in my language.

Images of Chloe as a child.
Image of the diagnostic manuals as to what “autism spectrum disorder” is.

For years, we can exist in limbo. Too Autistic for neurotypical spaces – even when we mask. But also, too alienated by the pathology narrative to seek out other Autistic people. Who wants to gather around shared symptoms? Who finds community in a checklist of what’s “wrong”?

So, we drift. Not just alone, but unseen. Existing in translation, never in our native tongue.

And then we find Autistic space.

Spaces where finger flicking means “anxiety” without explanation. Where someone could see another’s near-invisible rocking and know “meltdown imminent” without needing a performance of distress.

We’re writing the Autistic dictionary. Where they wrote “special interests,” we write “specialisations” or “dedicated interests.” Where they diagnosed “high-functioning,” we recognise “unsupported.” Where they labelled “severe,” we see “distressed Autistic human.”


This isn’t semantics. It’s survival. Language shapes reality. And when they call us “people with autism” – that careful separation – they’re telling us they’d like us better without autism than with. But I am Autistic. Capital A. Like a people. Like a culture. Like something worth capitalising.

Healing from the “culture of autism” doesn’t mean becoming less Autistic. That was their goal, never ours.

It means recognising that the pathology was never in us – it was in the narrative wrapped around us and used against us.

When I’m thriving, I’m still Autistic. When I’m struggling, it’s not my neurology that’s failed – it’s the environment that’s failed to accommodate it.

And what worries non-Autistic researchers and diagnosticians most? Our gathering. Our refusal to see ourselves through their lens anymore.

Beneath that canopy, those marker labels that seeped into me – “cold,” “standoffish,” “unapproachable” – begin to lose their bite. Among fellow Autistic people, those words are shared, understood, and reframed. What was once isolation becomes connection. The canopy is where we scrub away the Sharpie tattoos of stigma, together, even if the residue remains.

Image of Chloe with marker drawn words on their face and body, like “bossy” and “weird”

Every Autistic person who moves from shame to pride weakens their narrative. Every connection we make breaks isolation tactics. Every space we create proves their “treatments” unnecessary.

We “treat” autism by teaching how to be Autistic. Chloe Farahar. SoYoureAutistic.wordpress.com

We’re not asking for acceptance anymore. We’re building our own space.

And in these spaces – these canopies – we don’t just survive. We thrive.

So, the canopy means to me: healing and refuge. It is the place where Autistic identity replaces pathology, where community replaces isolation, and where culture replaces stigma. It is the space where we learn not how to be indistinguishable from others, but how to be unapologetically Autistic, together.

Everybody’s weird, you just have to find your group of weird. Chloe

It’s not the absence of struggle. It’s understanding its source. It’s not fixing what’s “broken.” It’s recognising we never were.

And under this canopy – whether in a classroom, a forest, or an internet forum – we find each other.

A number of images of different neurodivergent people, friends, and fiance of Chloe’s.


Where Chloe has written on Autistic identity, culture, community, and space for Autistic well-being and other related topics:

References (Chloe)

Farahar, C. (2021, June 25). A rose by any other name would smell…of stigma (or, the psychologically important difference between being a “person with autism” or an Autistic person). Retrieved from Unit for Stigma Research, University College London: https://blogs.ucl.ac.uk/stigma-research/2021/06/25/a-rose-by-any-other-name-would-smellof-stigma-or-the-psychologically-important-difference-between-being-a-person-with-autism-or-an-autistic-person-by-dr-chloe-farahar/

Farahar, C. (2021, May 13). How can we enable neurodivergent academics to thrive? Retrieved from London School of Economics and Political Science: https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/highereducation/2021/05/13/how-can-we-enable-neurodivergent-academics-to-thrive/

Farahar, C. (2022). Chapter Nineteen – Autistic identity, culture, community, and space for wellbeing. In D. Milton, & S. Ryan (Eds.), The Routledge International Handbook of Critical Autism Studies (1st ed.). Routledge.

Farahar, C. (In Print 2025). The Farahar and Foster Three-Dimensional Autistic Space: Dismantling the ‘autism spectrum’ and centring observer bias in the missing, dismissing, and misdiagnosis of Autistic people. In R. S. Herbert (Ed.), Beyond Autistic stereotypes: New perspectives on identities, gender, and experience. Oxford University Press.

Farahar, C., & Bishopp-Ford, L. (2020). Stigmaphrenia©: Reducing mental health stigma with a script about neurodiversity. In D. Milton (Ed.), The neurodiversity reader: Exploring concepts, lived experience and implications for practice. UK: Pavilion Publishing and Media Ltd.. T. (2019). Contact sans contact: Investigating a novel experiential intergroup contact approach to reducing mental health stigma. [Doctoral thesis, University of Kent]. Kent Academic Repository. Retrieved from https://kar.kent.ac.uk/id/eprint/81290

Farahar, C., & Bishopp-Ford, L. (2020). Stigmaphrenia©: Reducing mental health stigma with a script about neurodiversity. In D. Milton (Ed.), The neurodiversity reader: Exploring concepts, lived experience and implications for practice. UK: Pavilion Publishing and Media Ltd.

Farahar, C., & Foster, A. (2021). #AutisticsInAcademia. In N. Brown (Ed.), Lived Experiences of Ableism in Academia: Strategies for Inclusion in Higher Education (pp. 197-215). Bristol, UK: Policy Press.

References (Tom)

Carello, J. & Butler, L.D., 2015. Practicing Trauma-Informed Care: A Guide for Teachers and Practitioners. [Publisher if known].

Herman, J.L., 1992. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Basic Books.

La Haine, 1995. La Haine [Film]. Directed by Mathieu Kassovitz. France: Canal+.

Wohlleben, P., 2016. The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate. London: William Collins.

Fred again.., 2021. Kyle (I Found You) [Song]. On Actual Life 2 (February 2 – October 15 2021). London: Again.. Ltd. Link

From Postcode Lottery to Policy Change: Autistic Voices at Westminster

What Autistic People Say About NHS and Council Services

Parliament Asked. We Answered.

Dr Chloe Farahar of Aucademy CIC was invited as one of three Autistic experts to a private, closed meeting with the House of Lords Committee on the Autism Act 2009. The committee asked experts to share their views on how the Autism Act 2009 and national autism strategy have worked in practice, what hasn’t been effective, and what the government should prioritise next.

Find here the published notes of the meeting.


As this was a private committee session, the findings below reflect general themes discussed during the meeting and are not attributed to any individual participant. Here are the key points raised:

The Current Picture

Whilst some excellent services exist, there’s still a “postcode lottery” of support. Many NHS and council staff lack practical training on working with Autistic people, and when training is available, uptake can be limited by time and resource constraints.

Barriers to Good Care

Participants highlighted several ongoing challenges:

  • Long diagnostic waiting times (the NICE guideline of 13 weeks has never been consistently achieved)
  • Emergency services that don’t make adjustments for Autistic people’s needs
  • Professionals sometimes dismissing Autistic people’s understanding of their own bodies and needs
  • Particular barriers for Autistic people from ethnic minority backgrounds and LGBTQ+ communities

The Involvement Gap

Too often, decisions are made “about” rather than “with” Autistic people. Families report fighting for promised support that doesn’t materialise, and services don’t always listen when placements or treatments aren’t working.

However, there are positive examples where Autistic people have genuine power in service design and delivery, leading to better outcomes for everyone.

What Needs to Change

Experts called for:

  • Early support rather than crisis response
  • Needs-led support that doesn’t require a diagnosis
  • Real decision-making roles for Autistic people in permanent positions
  • Better training that goes beyond basic awareness to practical skills
  • Accountability for organisations that engage in tokenistic consultation

The Bottom Line

The Autism Act has raised awareness of duties to Autistic people, but implementation remains patchy. With some people spending decades in inappropriate hospital settings, and many struggling to access basic support, there’s an urgent need for properly funded, Autistic-led service transformation.

The Committee’s final recommendations could be crucial in shaping the next phase of autism policy beyond 2026.


Based on consultation with Autistic experts by experience, and experts with a learning disability/need facilitated by NDTi, May 2025

Autistic identity, culture, community, and space for well-being

Review by Katie Munday (they / them)

Dr. Chloe Farahar explores the creation and importance of Autistic identity, culture, community, and space for well-being in their chapter of the same name in The Routledge International Handbook of Critical Autism Studies. Chloe has a PhD in social psychology specifically attempting to improve the dominant discourse surrounding “mental illnesses” (neurodivergences). They are currently engaged in post-doctoral research on the Oxford-led ATTUNE project, exploring young neurodivergent people’s experience of mental health and adverse childhood experiences, through participatory arts-based research.

Autistic identity, culture, community, and space for well-being explores the importance of self and community identification, belonging and connectedness. Chloe posits that many Autistic people distance ourselves from the pathology of ‘autism’ therefore distancing ourselves from the protective factors of community. This leaves many Autistic people in limbo – many of us feel that we do not fit into the neuro-normative world or the Autistic community, which can lead to isolation and poor self-esteem.

Chloe appreciates that ‘the culture of autism’ creates internalised stigma, shame and ableism. The ideas which have formed the foundation of knowledge on “autism” are based in deficit, negativity and hopelessness – no wonder so many of us want to distance ourselves from such an awful fate.

Through Autistic identity, culture, community, and space for well-being Chloe suggests that in the creation of safe spaces – such as their own ‘So You’re Autistic’ community group – Autistic people can find ourselves. In these spaces we can create meaningful connections with others and understand our Autistic embodiment in neutral terms: being Autistic is neither good nor bad, it simply is.

Autistic spaces and communities can be places of growth and healing. They can allow us to combat discrimination together, improving collective and individual self-esteem. These spaces could also work as a way for Autistic people to realise our neurodivergence without needing a diagnosis based in deficit and disorder.

Autistic identity, culture, community, and space for well-being is a great exploration of Autistic culture and a summary of the ongoing move from the pathology paradigm to the neurodiversity paradigm. Adding to work from Botha 2020, Kapp, 2019, Chapman 2020, Dekker 1999, Walker 2020, and many others. This is a must-read.

This chapter can be read for free here.

Meghan Ashburn & Jules Edwards – I will die on this Hill

Book review by Katie Munday (they / them)

[Trigger warning: talk on filicide, suicide and death.]

Book cover: cartoon illustrations of Meghan, a white person, with long blonde hair, thick framed glasses, wearing a black hoodie. They are stood back-to-back with a light-brown skin Jules, who is wearing a black low-cut t-shirt. They are against a green grass back drop, with a slither of light blue sky at the top. Yellow text reads: I will die on this Hill: Autistic adults, autism parents and the children who deserve a better world. Artwork by Nathan McConell (Growing Up Autie).

Written by Meghan Ashburn and Jules Edwards, I will die on this Hill looks at the struggle between Autistic people, ‘autism parents’ and the children who often get caught in the middle.

Meghan Ashburn (Not an Autism Mom) is an educational consultant, trainer and writer, passionate about helping schools create more inclusive and accessible environments for children.

Jules Edwards (Autistic, typing) is an Indigenous Autistic mother of Autistic children, passionate about sharing knowledge, healing trauma, and building community in alignment with her cultural values.

Nathan McConell (Growing Up Autie) illustrated the front cover and pictures of individual chapter writers.

The book collects brilliant reflections from some of the most important people in Autistic advocacy and activism including Kieran Rose, Kristy Forbes, Tiffany Hammond, Cole Sorenson and Danny Whitty. These are sprinkled throughout the book, between Meghan’s and Jules’ chapters, under headings such as ‘The Worst of Each other’, ‘Let’s get to Work’ and ‘Where do I fit in?’.

Meghan and Jules reflect on the division between Autistic activists and ‘autism mums’ through their own relationship which began with consistent and often strained (mis)communication. Through this persistent need to teach and learn with each other Meghan and Jules were unwittingly creating a template of how we can all work together to protect and champion the lives of Autistic children. So, they wrote a book about it!

There are too many good parts of this book to list but I wanted to highlight two particular favorite chapters of mine, Cara and Danny Whitty’s chapters. Cara wrote of how her ‘mother’ struggled with looking after her Neurodivergent children and how this ultimately ended with her killing her son, trying to kill her daughter and then herself. This chapter is a brave confirmation of the very real harm that Autistic people face, often from within our own families. Cara finishes her chapter by saying “if you ever feel like you can’t parent them [your children] safely, get help.” (p.172). There is no shame in needing or asking for help, parenting is beyond overwhelming and difficult and we all need support some times.

Danny Whitty’s chapter was just as eye-opening, he wrote about the pathology around autism and being non-speaking and how this “harms whole families, not just the Autistic individuals. It deprives them of the opportunity to fully know and love their Autistic family member. Which is a tragic loss.” (p.114). Unfortunately, ideas such as ‘curing’ Autistic people are often filtered down to parents who believe autism to be a big baddy taking over their children. This can be worse still for Autistic people who have different ways of communicating and do not get their communication needs supported.

The writers throughout I will die on this Hill do not shy away from the interconnection of autism and trauma, they understand that being Autistic is another part of human diversity which comes with both unimaginable struggle and deep joy. Intersectionality is reflected on throughout the book, especially Jules’ Ojibwe heritage and culture.

I saw myself reflected in these pages, from Morenike Giwa Onaiwu’s view of being Autistic as neither good or bad: just being, to Kimberly Collins’ experience of being shut-down by other parents in parent groups due to being Autistic. Autistic and non-Autistic experiences of activism and support groups are explored critically, appreciating that they are equal parts powerful, frustrating, intimate, bleak and empowering.

I will die on this Hill can be read in stages and makes a great reference book, with key points and resources at the end of each chapter. I would recommend this as a go-to book for Autistic people and those who love and support us.

I will die on this Hill is an important – and sometimes difficult –  book to read. Meghan, Jules and the other writers look at our history of infighting and explore how this doesn’t help any of us. The writing is insightful, personal, intersectional and brutally honest.

Hopefully, this book marks a rise in all of us working together against the real enemy of oppressive, racist and ableist systems which hold us down whilst asking us why we can’t do better.

“Our children think autistically, feel autistically and live autistically.”

Meghan Ashburn, p.118

Autistic theories of Autistic experience

Find here explainer videos about the three Autistic-derived theories of Autistic experience: Monotropism theory (Dinah Murray), Double empathy problem (Damian Milton), and Autistic language hypothesis (Rachel Cullen):

Monotropism explainer video by Kieran Rose (The Autistic Advocate):


Double-empathy explainer video by Kieran Rose (The Autistic Advocate):


Reviewed by young people, double empathy explained:

Screenshot of the webpage from Frontiers for Young Minds: “Double Empathy: Why Autistic People Are Often Misunderstood”

Aucademy discussion on the double empathy problem from theory (Damian Milton), to evidence it occurs, to evidence of why it occurs (Rachel Cullen):


Aucademy discussion on the Autistic language hypothesis with Aucademy’s Rachel Cullen, educating Chloe and Annette:


Aucademy discussion explaining the monotropism theory with Fergus Murray & Tanya Adkin educating Aucademy’s Chloe and Ben:

De-centering the ‘male’ Autistic experience

By Katie Munday (they / them)

Historically, being Autistic was considered a male childhood experience, with boys more readily diagnosed than girls. This trend is still prevalent in many areas of autism research but thankfully the gap between male and female diagnosis and realisation is slowly closing. As is the access to diagnosis and realisation for transgender, non-binary and gender divergent individuals.

There have been many reasons why many girls and women have been overlooked for diagnosis including (but not limited to); systemic misogyny and transphobia, autism research which favours ‘male’ traits and cultural gender stereotypes.

Systemic misogyny and transphobia

Misogyny across medical systems, which upholds ideas of female ‘hysteria’ and over-emotionality, means women are more likely to be disbelieved or wrongly diagnosed with personality differences and mental health issues. These diagnosis can then cause access issues to Autistic identification.

Professionals are not seeing the very real connection between what would be considered ‘disorders’ (what I prefer to call embodied self-preservation) and Autistic experience, which often includes consistent trauma. So, even when females are diagnosed with personality differences they are often overlooked for also being Autistic.

Access to diagnosis is also difficult for transgender and gender divergent individuals who wish to transition medically. Often these people are left to choose between being supported with their Autistic diagnosis or gender affirmation, but very rarely are they given the opportunity for help with both. Unfortunately, Autistic people are still seen as children who do not understand gender and therefore are not ‘really’ transgender. This infantilsation denies Autistic people gender affirming healthcare and many forgo an autism diagnosis so they can get help with the more immediate need of living their authentic gender.

Many people turn up to gender identity health clinics because they are confused by their gender and need help untangling it all, some of us live in gender flux and fluidity and this confusion should never mean punishment. All gender experiences are relevant, and all people should have access to gender affirming and diagnostic healthcare, this means creating more support for people of colour, queer people, physically Disabled people and all other marginalised groups.

Autism research which favours ‘male’ traits

Across 70 years of autism research the most researched group of people have been young white males. This means that all criteria for diagnosis, and the supposed ‘support’ which comes with it, is based on ‘male’ behaviours. Anyone who does not present these traits are not considered Autistic and may be misdiagnosed with another form of neurological difference.

The very few Autistic people who fit the stereotype of Rain Main and Sheldon Cooper have the privilege of far fewer barriers to diagnosis. However, girls and women, transgender and non-binary folk and males who do not show these traits are often overlooked as we do not live up to the standard of male stereotyped Autistic traits.

This is further complicated for those of us who are people of colour, physically Disabled, Queer and trans because our social ‘difficulties’ are often understood as a common ‘impairment’ of our other marginalised identities. This is a glowing indictment of the racism, ableism and queerphobia within medical systems but also within places of education, work and anywhere else we are seen as being ‘problematic’ or ‘too much.’

These male stereotypes are based around white western ideals of behaviours; giving eye contact, staying still, keeping quiet, but ideas of ‘appropriate’ behaviour vary across different cultures. There are many indigenous cultures, for example, which deem eye contact as incredibly rude, but this is not accounted for in white western medicine.

Autism research has focused on male stereotypes for so long that the idea of a ‘female autism phenotype’ has arisen. Not only does this create even more barriers for those of us outside the binary but it also continues to other female Autists, favouring males as the ‘real’ Autistics. (I could, and probably will, write a piece on the ‘female phenotype’ but I lack the spoons to write about that particularly misogynistic, racist and transphobic idea at the moment).

Cultural gender stereotypes

Criteria for diagnosis, which favours males and is steeped in misogyny, are based on the undeniable inequality that all of us who aren’t cisgender male face.

Girls and women are often overlooked as Autistic as they often (strangely!) fit western female stereotypes. Many of them are either quiet: “she’s so shy!” or very talkative: “they’re quite the chatter box!” These vast differences in communication, confidence and the need to talk are both seen as inherently female: potential non-speaking or hyper-verbal traits are often considered as just a ‘girl thing’ and therefore often overlooked.

In many Western cultures, girls are kept young, virtuous and innocent for as long as possible. This can run parallel with the interests of Autistic people who often stay loyal to their hobbies for longer than their neurotypical peers. This is often misunderstood and pathologised as developmental regression but it is just the lack of fear we have about enjoying what we enjoy loudly and proudly!

Heteronormativity also plays a big part in gender stereotypes; girls are to grow into women who have children with a man and keep the household. Girls are explicitly and implicitly told that they are to grow up to be the main caregiver of children, do all the housework and most times squeeze in a full or part time job. Due to this many women are exhausted beyond measure; this is considered a cultural norm and does not consider neurological differences.

As we know, burnout between neurotypical people and Autistic people are vastly different, add in the overwhelming responsibilities placed upon women and we are sure to suffer poor mental health. Unfortunately, these cultural norms feed into misogynistic medical systems, which suggest that mums simply need to ‘rest more’ or pop a few Xanax and carry on exactly as they are. There never seems to be any understanding that this burnout is due to being Autistic, as well as living in a garbage heteronormative world. Less still can it be seen for what it often is: an Autistic person raising other Autistic young people in a world that is simply not made to support or enrich us at all.

So how can we de-centre the ‘male’ Autistic experience?

Firstly, challenging oppression benefits us all and this is in no way a fight against men and boys who also deserve diagnosis, support and acceptance. I want to create a world in which we can all reach understanding and support earlier in our lives.

Unfortunately, systemic misogyny and transphobia, focusing on ‘male’ traits and cultural gender stereotypes are all reciprocally determinant, they reinforce each other and are a difficult cycle to break.

Difficult, but not impossible.

Change won’t come overnight. It comes from the writings of brilliant Autistic academics and those of us who continue to put pressure on politicians and policy makers, the advocates and activists who show up every damn day to fight our oppression.

No contributions from any of us who stand up to oppression is small – we are all part of a bigger movement to change systemic ableism, racism, transphobia and bigotry. We can change things through our anger, through our writing, for showing up for one another, through social media, protests, pride events, Autistic run conferences, supporting Autistic artists, activists and writers.

These acts can and will invoke change so that the Autistic kids of tomorrow have more of a chance at Autistic joy, pride and acceptance.