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V10i12 Dec Little Adult Big Baby
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Narrated by Kelly Wilkinson

Hello. I’m autistic. 

Like a lot of autistic people with lower support needs, I was seen as a ‘little adult’ when I was a child; now, as an adult, I’m more likely to be seen as childish, or at least naïve. Largely, this is due to my tendency to take things at face value (which can be interpreted as gullibility), or to misinterpret people’s tone, intentions, or subtle cues.

For a long time, I’ve been meaning to write about being autistic. Now, recent events have urged me to finally take the handful of notes scattered in various documents and emails and turn them into an essay.

The greatest difficulty for me has been that there is too much to say. But I can no longer stay silent.

Should I start with the early signs of childhood autism?

I was routinely made fun of at school for holding my arms out stiffly to carry my backpack, but I couldn’t seem to make it work any other way. Other students, even my friends, would tell me I walked funny, or moved strangely. Sometimes, teachers would get frustrated with me because I could not understand what they were asking me to do. I suffered from dyscalculia, and extreme directional disorientation (which often go hand-in-hand).

At home, too, the struggles were myriad. I was teased mercilessly for talking too much, even to the point of being introduced to strangers as “motor mouth”— or not talking enough, when I would have occasional bouts of mutism and would only speak in “hmm hmm language” (which is just what it sounds like). I would get the ‘raptor hands/T-Rex arms’ to the point where I would spill whatever I was holding — like a cup of juice — over my shoulder. My family members thought it was hilarious.

Almost every night, I had unbearably painful leg aches. On the worst nights, I would run into my parents’ room and ask them to rub my legs and give me children’s Tylenol. It didn’t help much, so I usually didn’t bother unless it was screamingly bad. I had ulcers by the time I was ten, and had other digestive issues. POTS symptoms were present, as well, but I was not diagnosed with it as a child. I wasn’t diagnosed with much at all; it was a different time.

What about giftedness? Do you want to know about that?

Most children who are hyperlexic are also autistic, and I taught myself to read before preschool. Because I sought approval, I was proud of this fact, because my parents seemed to value it. They would brag to others about my abilities. I also had a musical ear, and could copy songs I heard on the piano. In general, I had an exceptional memory as a child. I still remember certain things — like TV commercials and songs — perfectly. I picked up languages easily, and made up a number of my own. (Did you know that ‘to experiment’ and ‘to experience’ are the same word in Spanish?)

Over the years, various teachers would tell my parents (and sometimes me) that I was a gifted writer, or a gifted artist. Some of these people made an effort with me, but I remember being confused by their attention, because I didn’t understand what they wanted from me.

Like many autistic people, I had higher-than-average pattern recognition skills. I seemed to have a ‘sixth sense’ at times. Of all of my childhood abilities, pattern recognition may be the most unchanged. This would sometimes get me into trouble, but mostly was assumed to be a sign of intelligence. 

In those pre-internet days, most professionals thought giftedness/savantism and autism were different things, not facets of one thing. I have come to understand that people tended to (and still tend to) call a childhood behavior a ‘gift’ only if it is pleasant or entertaining, or if it benefits them.

So what? Why am I writing about this now?

So far, I’ve been writing about my personal experience as an autistic person. Everyone wants to be understood. Probably partly due to being autistic, I have suffered greatly from being misunderstood in my life, so my desire to be understood runs very deep.

But I am also privileged in a lot of ways, and I want to use that privilege to help other autistic people, including those with higher support needs, to be better understood.

The world has never been especially kind to autistic people. Even the so-called ‘positive’ representations of autism in media can cause harm. Please watch Chloé Hayden’s TED Talk about how even autistic people with low support needs do, in fact, still have needs that are vitally important: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEsikH322n4. Also, I strongly recommend Emily Ladau’s book Demystifying Disability if you want to know more. It’s fantastic!

Right now, the level of harmful rhetoric coming from sources we should be able to trust — like the CDC — terrifies me. RFK Jr. has been fact checked multiple times about his inaccurate statements about autism, but that hasn’t stopped him from continuing to make unfounded claims. In a news conference, RFK Jr. said that children with autism will “never pay taxes…never hold a job…never play baseball…never write a poem…never go out on a date. Many of them will never use a toilet unassisted.” He has even proposed creating a registry of autistic people in the United States.

Just this month (November 2025), the CDC website under RFK Jr. was radically rewritten to undermine the way the CDC addressed false claims linking vaccines to autism. (For more on this, see Dr. Kristen Panthagani’s article ‘Do dogs cause autism?’ on her website: https://www.youcanknowthings.com.)

It’s scary for autistic people in the U.S. right now.

We’re scared.

But what can any of us do?

If you understand the difference between equality and equity, you know that fairness doesn’t mean treating everybody the same way; it means making sure everyone has an equal chance to be successful.

In your interpersonal relationships, this means treating autistic people as being worthy of respect and dignity. In Emily Ladau’s book, she does a brilliant job of explaining why even well-meaning infantilization is not appropriate. 

I have had people say things to me — I think in an effort to reassure me — like “You’re very high functioning,” and “It’s okay; you can’t help it,” when I say or do things that are not typically allistic (non-autistic). It is degrading.

For the last few years, I have been making a concerted effort to ‘unmask’ (to stop trying to act allistic) in front of others. It has made some relationships and situations more challenging, but it has also freed me and allowed me to be more genuine. I have stopped constantly contorting myself into shapes that hurt me to try to put everyone around me more at ease.

I’m fortunate that I have a great support network of friends and loved ones that treat me like a whole human being, just as worthy of love and respect as anyone else. But you can do more for autistic people than just being cool to the ones that you know personally.

Visit the Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) to learn more about autism and to get action alerts about current events that affect people with autism and other disabilities. 

We do need advocacy. 

There are a lot of autistic people that, like me, can do a fair amount of advocacy for themselves. But autistic people have varying support needs. Not all of us can communicate verbally. Some of us have learning or intellectual disabilities. Some of us have other difficulties that intersect with autism, such as ADHD. We all deserve dignity.

We need your help.

ASAN’s Action Center tracks all sorts of policies and issues, and offers tools to help you take action. Please just take five minutes to look at the ‘Take Action’ menu. Pick one thing and do it! ASAN offers all the help you need: they will help you find your elected officials, offer suggestions for how to submit a public comment about proposed legislation, or anything else you might be unsure about.

You CAN make a difference. I’m asking you to try.

Visit https://autisticadvocacy.org/actioncenter 

Sara Quinn is the Editor-in-Chief at Tumbleweird and serves on the board of Tri-City Area Gaming. She lives with her amazing spouse (Brendan), and her doggos (Jewel and Ruby). Sara makes art, writes stuff, reads A TON, plays a lot of games (board, video, and TTRPG), and makes crossword puzzles.

Sara is a queer, disabled, autistic demigirl. She has a dual degree in psychology and sociology, which she mainly uses to fuel her special interest in human interaction (and to pick her Survivor league lineup). She longs for the day when she will finally learn to relax. ¡Ojalá!


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Hero image: Photo by Ervo Rocks