A 2014 report features 38 people who “lost” their autism diagnosis; they were considered “recovered,” though only three of the 569 children studied didn’t have a diagnosis or needed supports at follow-up. It is very likely that those three “cured” children were actually never autistic, but misdiagnosed. And it is sadly possible that the other 35 learned to mask their autism to feel accepted or loved by their families. I wrote the article below almost five years ago, prompted by a New York Times article talking about other “cured” people… unfortunately, the topic and ideas remain current.
Originally published in Spanish, August 3,2014
A 2014 New York Times article focuses on several young men who “beat” autism. The autistic community (read: autistic people) and many parents and professionals have viewed this with skepticism. I am one of them. I don’t believe for a second that they got “cured.” To begin with, the words “cured” or “recovered” don’t even belong here. Autism cannot be cured; it is not an illness but a neurological difference, which begins in the womb. Yes, the brain’s plasticity is incredible and can create synapses where there were none, or some unused synapses are degraded; thus, the brain’s connectivity can vary. But the foundation is the same.
Many autistic adults were not identified as children. Partially because the diagnostic criteria were more strict, or because it was so “mild” (another poorly used word) that it went unnoticed. Many were mistakenly diagnosed with a myriad “disorders” or conditions. Now… it is famously hard to diagnose adults. Psychologists and other professionals with expertise in autism many times have to take a look at the person’s childhood, talk to parents, friends from elementary school, siblings, etc., to reach an accurate diagnosis. As life goes by, many of the most apparent characteristics of autism become less apparent; people learn how to imitate others, study themselves and the reactions of others toward certain behaviors. Because of this, many autistic adults say most people tell them “but you don’t even look autistic!” and in some cases their diagnosis is simply not believed. What those people are seeing is a reflection of the conscious learning of social skills and of “acting” as “neurotypical.”
If all one had to do was to learn how to function as a “neurotypical” and everyone ended up living happily ever after, that’d be one thing. But reality paints a very different picture. There is a great incidence of depression and anxiety in autistic adults, including those that never had a diagnosis. Acting as a “neurotypical” doesn’t make you feel like a “neurotypical” and the daily social interactions and having to be “acting” for long periods of time can create serious stress and strain.
In the case of the “cured” people named in the NYT article, there are a couple of very worrisome situations. One is that the mothers have worked so hard to achieve that “cure” and show so much happiness because their children “made it,” that one wonders if their children could have convinced themselves they’re “cured” in great measure to feel accepted and loved. Therefore, they would suppress any characteristic or feeling linked to autism. I feel, and I hope I’m completely wrong, that what they’re living is an infallible recipe to become depressed, anxious, and having a low self-esteem. Time will tell… the mothers are evidently closing their eyes and pretending that anything they notice is due to “leftovers” from the autism their children “suffered.”
There are several phrases in the article that show that the “cure” is nothing more than adaptation and conscious learning of social skills and neurotypical behaviors. One of the “cured” young men, Matt, states “I think I was in seventh or eighth grade when I finally realized I was supposed to keep on topic. And I noticed that when I did that, I started to make more friends.” A “neurotypical” doesn’t do this consciously, it’s part of the subconscious social learning. Other parents or “cured” young men talk about how they learn, by means of relentless practice, to avoid “flapping” their hands (flapping is very common in autistic people, and for many it’s a source of joy, or helps them feel calm when stressed out, among other positive effects).
An example of this is told by Carmine, another teen, who was “trained” to stop flapping: his teachers would hold his hands when he flapped. His sister would make fun of him for his flapping, and he remembers the mocking he was subjected to when he was 6 or 7 years old. He said: “When I wanted to flap, I’d put my hands in my pockets. I think I came up with that on my own. It was frustrating for those two years. It was like smiling and then someone telling you that you shouldn’t smile, that smiling was wrong. Remembering to put my hands in my pockets made me less excited because I had to think about it so much. But as time goes on, you get in the habit. So by the time I was 10 or 11, I wasn’t even feeling the urge to flap.” We’re talking, then, about years of training and reinforcement given by his family and teachers, and serious, conscious effort on his part, for at least four years.
Other comments in the article are about these young people learning to not incessantly talk about the topic they’re passionate about, and to look at people in the eye. In all the cases, repetitions and constant practice for years on end are a common theme. That is tough, unrelenting training. Isn’t it? And for what? When the writer asked Carmine if he missed anything about being autistic, Carmine said: “I miss the excitement. When I was little, pretty often I was the happiest a person could be. It was the ultimate joy, this rush in your entire body, and you can’t contain it. That went away when my sister started teasing me and I realized flapping wasn’t really acceptable.”
The “leftovers” of Matt’s autism sounds very familiar to autistic adults. For example, a “leftover” is his obsession with order and precision. He would keep a mental log of the appointments and schedules of all of the members of his family (five) and knew where everyone was at all times. He even knew what time each one had to leave the house to arrive on time to a given appointment. He still has sensory issues and cannot wear tight or stiff clothes, he prefers to wear sweatpants or loose khakis instead of jeans. He still has issues identifying when people are joking. His mother said: “I think he still sometimes interprets things more literally than other people do. Maybe that’s because he had to learn how to read people’s emotions, facial expressions and mannerisms, where other kids just know, just learned it automatically.” His mother also mentions that when Matt is watching an exciting game on TV, he flaps his hands. She asked him what he felt while doing it and it turned out that Matt though he had stopped doing it at 13-14; he didn’t realize he was still doing it.
Another story that was very sad for me to read was one where the autism the young man “suffered” is a family secret. The family actually moved to a different city once he made “significant progress.” The parents don’t speak with their son about the autism he “had.” He knows he “had autism” and has asked what it was like for them when he had autism. He recently asked his mom: “Was it horrible for you?” His mom related to the writer that she told him that “it was really, really scary. But the hard times were short-lived, because he responded so quickly and so well once we figured out what to do. We’ve told him many times that so few people have that outcome and that he’s one of the lucky ones.”
I guess the point of the article was to provide some hope to parents of autistic children. As the mom of an autistic girl, this article didn’t give me any hope. I don’t wish for my daughter to be “neurotypical,” I think she’s an amazing autistic person and love her that way. It did, however, break my heart, especially thinking about those young men. I feel that they have been told their whole lives that they are loved… as long as they are not autistic. Additionally, the more of I read, the more I thought that what is happening here is that these people are terrified of the diagnosis and are in an impressive state of denial. But not having a current diagnosis and being in denial won’t prevent that some of these young men could someday see that they are not really “neurotypical.” I wish them fortitude when that happens, and I hope they will reach out to the autistic community, where they could learn to love and fully accept themselves.
Note written on April 28 2019: re-reading my post to translate it, and re-reading portions of the article (here is the link) was honestly triggering. Not personally, because I know my daughter feels loved and supported as an autistic tween (she was five when I first wrote this, ten now). But is a feeling of frustration that we as society have not learned enough in this five years while the autistic community has gained more prominence. Seems like not enough parents are listening to autistic people. Or reflected on the fact that a lack of a diagnosis doesn’t make the person non-autistic. People look for a diagnosis because they know, deep inside, that they are not neurotypical. And have felt isolated most of their lives. If, in addition to having to adapt to a neurotypical-favoring society, they have to pretend nothing is wrong and they’re happy so their family, especially their parents, love them… that’s disheartening and heartbreaking. There is such a long, uphill road ahead… Explaining yourself as part of a marginalized minority is exhausting. Allies have to support autistic people by speaking up and keep being vocal and active in our support.
Note of today, September 23rd, 2026: It’s astonishing that we’re still stigmatizing autism and autistic people. It doesn’t help that people in power are the same that have been peddling and fostering stigma against autistic people. But society is still listening to those myths. We have a lot of work to do.