“You seem so… normal.”
A stunned audience member said this to me after a talk I gave on neurodiversity. She found it hard to believe that I’m autistic and have ADHD, because, like she said, I seem so “normal”. I didn’t flap my hands, I didn’t talk in a monotone and I didn’t drone on endlessly about the Battle of Agincourt (although I would have given half a chance).
The reason I don’t appear autistic is the same as for so many others – because I mask. I’ve masked my whole life so I don’t even know what’s me and what’s the mask any more.
What is masking?
Masking is the conscious or unconscious hiding of neurodivergent traits. While the term is mainly used to refer to autistic people, all neurodivergents may mask. Think of the dyslexic who avoids using Slack because of their unconventional spelling. Consider the ADHD person who volunteers to take notes so they have an acceptable way of fidgeting. And of course, the classic autistic, who tries to mimic small talk to fit in with neurotypical (non-neurodivergent) peers.
You might be wondering why do neurodivergent people mask? Why do we hide our neurodivergent traits? It’s because we were – and still are – punished for simply being ourselves. People shame, scold and exclude neurodivergent people because we don’t behave the way they want us to. So we end up hiding who we really are because it’s not worth the trauma. Masking tends to be more common in women and in people over 40. I believe it’s more ingrained in these groups too, therefore harder to undo.
Why is masking a problem?
There is not one problem with masking, there are two.
The first is that masking is exhausting for the neurodivergent person. It takes a lot of cognitive energy to pretend to be someone you’re not and it detracts from the job you’re supposed to be doing. There can also be a lot of anxiety around masking, when people are afraid that others will find out what they’re truly like or how “bad” they are at certain tasks. This anxiety also saps energy and can contribute to problems like under-performance and absenteeism.
The second problem is for you. You’re not getting to know your colleague, which is essential if you are going to be a good leader. You’re also not getting the best out of your neurodivergent team member if they’re not allowed to be authentic – they won’t be as productive, as innovative, or as creative. And there’s a moral case as well as a business case – people who are masking will not be happy at work, and I believe everyone deserves that opportunity.
What can you do about it?
How do we help neurodivergent people unmask if we don’t even know who they are? If someone is masking so well, how would it even cross our mind that they might need support?
First up, let’s acknowledge that this might be difficult. Difficult, but not impossible. If you’ve read this far, you’ve already got the desire to be more inclusive to neurodivergent people and that’s ten times more important than anything else.
What has worked in other organisations – and can work in yours – is building an inclusive culture. One that starts at the top and reaches everyone. If you yourself are neurodivergent and are comfortable disclosing it, this can be a great starting point as it demonstrates that neurodivergence is not only accommodated but celebrated. Recognising neurodivergent strengths can empower neurodivergent people to do their best work. Building a place with systemic inclusion – where policies and processes are inclusive to everyone, regardless of neurodiversity – means that you level the playing field.
Neurodivergent people unmask when they start to feel safe. You can build that place of safety. In fact, you’ve already started.
