Last updated on November 26, 2023
Podcast Episode 0038; Season 04, Episode 02; September 1, 2020
To my disappointment, but not surprise, the most-read blog post on The Autistic Me discusses the research on autistics making other people uncomfortable from the moment they meet us.
I have taught business courses for several years. As part of those courses, we emphasize the value of “first impressions” in all aspects of professional life. From job interviews to working with clients, those first seconds (not even the first full minute) frame how others perceive you. Humans aren’t going to magically stop making snap judgments about each other, and evidence suggests no amount of sensitivity training alters the fact everyone relies on first impressions. Even autistics rely on first impressions.
How do we overcome the discomfort autistics cause some people? How do we deal with the sense of rejection? I don’t have good answers.
Transcript (lightly edited)
Welcome to The Autistic Me Podcast. I am Christopher Scott Wyatt, speaking as The Autistic Me.
The most-read blog post on The Autistic Me discusses the research on autistics making other people uncomfortable almost instantly.
Dozens of research studies replicate the finding that autistics, something about us, instantly makes other people apprehensive, uncomfortable, and anxious.
A 2017 study available on Nature.com found, and I quote:
Here, across three studies, we find that first impressions of individuals with ASD made from thin slices of real-world social behavior by typically-developing observers are not only far less favorable across a range of trait judgments compared to controls, but also are associated with reduced intentions to pursue social interaction. These patterns are remarkably robust, occur within seconds, do not change with increased exposure, and persist across both child and adult age groups.
[https://www.nature.com/articles/srep40700]
When I teach business communications courses, I present students with research on the “50-millisecond rule.” A large body of research finds that first impressions of anything, and any person, are set within 1/20th of a second. If you are lucky, you have seven seconds to change that first impression. After those seven seconds, changing a negative evaluation gets exponentially more difficult. It starts to take weeks, or even months, to undo the first impression.
Meanwhile, the autistic takes significantly more time to interpret micro-expressions and other cues during social interaction. We take a full second to interpret that same first meeting with someone. We take 20 times longer to analyze a social moment. Twenty times! By the time we adjust our tone, gestures, or facial expression, the other person’s opinions have started to solidify.
Small studies, not yet replicated, suggest that autistics might require five minutes — yes, five minutes — to match the processing others do within seven seconds.
The studies find that the social cue delays exist regardless of culture. In the United States, I might not make the right eye contact. I might not have the expected firm, yet pleasing vocal tone. In another culture, I might be improperly honest. I might not extend social courtesies as quickly or as smoothly as others. Autistics, no matter where they live, struggle with social cues.
One theory is that many social norms don’t serve a logical purpose to the autistic. I do not know if that is true, but I understand the theory. Why should I say something that isn’t true or agree with a statement that makes no logical sense?
When asked, “How are you?” an autistic might answer in detail, when the correct response is always “Fine, thank you. And you?”
I realize that’s a lot of background. We need people to understand that autistics have a cognitive impairment that seriously reduces our opportunities for personal and professional success.
When I check the analytics for The Autistic Me, every blog post in the top three is about the rejection of autistic in various settings: work, school, and social groups. The popularity of those posts means my experiences aren’t unique. The blog traffic means other people are trying to understand why rejection and autism go together.
After speaking to groups, well-meaning attendees will compliment my speaking. “You’re great with people! I don’t understand how you can claim you’re not good in social settings.”
A speech delivered from a podium or stage is not a social situation.
I know many autistic actors, musicians, dancers, and teachers. When we are on stage, we are focused on what we are doing, not individuals in the audience. That doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate the audience clapping, cheering, or singing along. Appreciating the audience doesn’t require reading individual micro-expressions or social cues.
I receive excellent teaching evaluations from students. Yet, many students comment that I seem uncomfortable meeting during office hours. They note that I am energetic and passionate about my course topics, but quiet and even distant one-on-one. Students have observed that I seem more comfortable in the structured setting of the classroom, with rules for speaking and listening.
Job interviews and workplaces are barriers to a career for me, even in teaching.
Not being able to read people quickly and instinctively, I have read a lot of books on body language and micro-expressions. I listen closely, watch movements, and try to analyze people as they speak. When I’m speaking, it’s harder to multitask, though I try my best to read the audience, whether it is one person or a room of students.
The analyses I need to perform slow me down, leading to gaps and talking over people. That’s a common problem for autistics. The delays, even a half-second delay, disturbs people according to research findings. They wonder if I am engaged or if I am formulating some special response.
Autistics are often mistakenly accused of calculating their answers, in the negative sense. We are calculating, but not for any devious purposes. We’re trying to determine what is expected of us during an interpersonal conversation.
Our challenges are not limited to coding and decoding communication.
I have been told my movements make others feel threatened. My arms might move, my feet might tap, I might rock slightly while speaking or listening. Add in my palsy and other medical challenges, and my autistic awkwardness has led to some devastating misunderstandings.
I’ve been told to calm down by teachers and even by police officers. I was simply trying to stand or walk. My lack of coordination seriously scares people. That’s hard for me to process and accept.
My expressions and tone don’t always match what I’m feeling or trying to convey. I’ve been told to smile when I was sure I was smiling. That might be the autistic traits or it could be the result of some injuries. It doesn’t matter; people want to see smiles.
I do get agitated when people tell me to calm down when I’m shaking. I get defensive when I’m repeatedly told to smile.
After enough badgering, I will say, “I have a medical condition and I am doing my best not to distract you.”
Getting annoyed with people doesn’t help build relationships. But, I also get tired of trying to self-advocate for tolerance. I gave up on being accepted. I’ll settle for being tolerated.
Autistics lack impulse control. Our executive function challenges, the inability to pause and think before acting, leads us to say what is best unsaid in workplaces.
Like other autistics, I am passionate about my areas of interest and expertise. Sometimes those overlap, sometimes they don’t. I know I sound passionate when lecturing on the topics I love. That works well in a classroom. That’s a bad technique one-on-one.
I don’t know when to stop a conversation. I don’t know when to walk away. I can overload people with the pace of my thoughts.
My impulse to respond to questions or statements honestly and as accurately as possible also causes discomfort for others. My answers get too detailed, too complex, or, especially in academic settings, too challenging.
Within the humanities, I am a philosophical outsider. I do not like the pressure to present ideas or beliefs I do not share. When told we must respect other cultures, I struggle to see why I should accept values and beliefs I consider misogynistic, homophobic, ableist, or otherwise discriminatory.
Empathy is a problem for autistics. We don’t lack empathy. We’re compelled to act and speak out because our emotions are so strong.
The HR training I had to complete this summer included reminders to respect other cultures views on arranged marriage, genital modification, and sexual identity. No. I’m sorry, but it is called genital mutilation. Stoning people for being gay is not just a cultural difference. It’s backward, and I tend to say so. Isolating the disabled is cruel and inhumane.
Ironically, these same universities have clear positions on how our culture should be.
“You’re being ethnocentric!” I was told. I’ve been accused of moral colonialism. Whatever. Wrong is wrong. If you can tolerate abuses in other cultures, shut up about supporting marginalized groups.
Speaking out of turn is what I do. I cannot sit through a presentation or training session about tolerating intolerance and not feel emotionally drained.
I had students refuse to read a text by a transgender economist. It was not a text about gender identity or sexuality. It was a text on how to properly format research papers. These international students were offended by the author’s identity.
Yes, I said I found that troubling. I told them to ignore the author and focus on the ideas. That was apparently not sensitive of me. I wasn’t promoting any agenda other than writing precisely about statistical data.
The autistics I know share my empathy and moral outrage when they observe abuses of other people. They aren’t good at remaining silent, either.
It isn’t just big issues like tolerance that lead me to say or write things I shouldn’t express.
The stupid processes, rules, and norms of a workplace or institution might bother me so much I cannot resist expressing frustration.
I’m just not good at following wasteful, illogical, counter-productive procedures without asking why we do something.
Why do universities use paper binders for faculty evaluations? We have computers. We have an HR system. Why do I need to print out articles and projects and place those in the three-ringed binder for the review committee? I don’t get it, and so I have asked why we’re stuck in the 1970s.
My employment evaluations have said I’m anti-social. I’m too serious. I’m too intense.
You don’t hire me to socialize with me, do you?
It turns out, that’s exactly how hiring committees work. People hire other people they perceive as like themselves. In academia, they want someone they would socialize with, which makes sense with the conferences and committees of universities. Everything about academic success seems to be based on social networks.
Workplaces favor extroverts. I’m not an extrovert.
I don’t want to attend faculty lunches or parties. Conferences seem strange to me when we can email papers and chat virtually. I don’t like large gatherings, so conferences are gigantic, inaccessible, disability-unfriendly nightmares.
I’m fine in front of a class. I’m fine working in my office at a computer.
I fail at work if I have to interact face-to-face or verbally with people. Failure is the best description for what I have experienced.
Anticipating making others uncomfortable, I avoid meeting new people. I don’t want to engage in conversations I know might push other people away.
My wife is my only close, face-to-face friend. She’s it. There’s no other person I spend much time with, even outside this pandemic imposed sheltering-in-place. I exhaust people, and they exhaust me. It’s frustrating.
This school year seems to be going well. My freelance writing work has been steady since 2006. What does this school year share with my freelance writing? Everything is done online. I don’t have to navigate small talk, the office settings, or interpersonal conversations.
Delays encoding and decoding don’t matter with email. Chats, by their nature, involve short delays, too. I can carefully consider what is meant by students or my editor. I can respond after reflecting on how to best express myself.
I love writing because writing is a safer interaction than face-to-face encounters.
At the age of 51, I’m not going to magically stop making others uneasy or anxious. My life supports the data of researchers. I am The Autistic Me and that includes struggling with social skills. That means I accepting I don’t have and will not have a career in a traditional workplace.
I wish I didn’t make others uncomfortable, but that’s The Autistic Me. I am Christopher Scott Wyatt. Thank you for listening.
Remember that we are on Facebook. My wife and I monitor The Autistic Me on Facebook, @AutisticMe on Twitter, and, of course, we have The Autistic Me blog, which is easy to find using Google or Bing.
- Blog: https://www.tameri.com/autisticme/
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