Autism Acceptance Isn’t Just Awareness -It’s Understanding

April is Autism Acceptance Month. Over the years, the conversation has shifted from awareness to acceptance, and now even into celebration. And while that evolution matters, I think we sometimes skip over the part that actually makes a difference: understanding what it is like to live in an autistic brain, and how to support that in real, everyday life.

One of the biggest misconceptions I still hear is that autism is somehow new, or that there are simply more autistic people now than there used to be. But that’s not really what’s happening. Autism has always existed. What has changed is how we define it, how we diagnose it, and who gets included. We are getting better at recognizing it—especially in women and adults who were often overlooked. That doesn’t mean it is new. It just means we finally have language for something that was already there.

Another thing I hear more and more is the idea that “everyone is a little autistic” or “everyone is a little ADHD.” I understand what people are trying to do when they say that. It often comes from a place of wanting to relate or normalize. But it also minimizes the reality.

Autism is still a disability.

We don’t usually question that concept in other contexts. If someone is blind but has an incredible sense of hearing, we don’t say they aren’t disabled. If someone uses a wheelchair and has strong upper body strength, we don’t pretend the limitation isn’t there.

It’s the same idea here.

There can be real strengths—pattern recognition, deep focus, the ability to learn something inside and out—but those strengths don’t erase the parts that are genuinely difficult.

For me, that looks like being able to hyperfocus and get a lot done when I am in the right state, but also feeling completely overwhelmed by something as simple as going shopping or having plans change at the last minute. Both of those things exist at the same time. That is the part that often gets missed when we only talk about the positives.

This is also where the conversation around accommodations becomes really important. Accommodations are often misunderstood as making things “too easy” or letting people off the hook. But in reality, they are about making things possible.

I had accommodations in school, even before I had the language to fully understand why I needed them. I had shorter spelling tests, reduced homework for a period of time, and later, during medical school, I was given different colored paper for exams when I discovered I have Irlen syndrome. Those changes were not about lowering expectations. They were about removing unnecessary barriers so I could actually perform at the level I was capable of.

I think most people who know my path would agree that I turned out okay. Which is why it’s always a little confusing to me when accommodations are now framed as laziness or as people “milking the system.” Yes, systems are imperfect, and there will always be edge cases, but that does not change the fact that many people genuinely need support in order to function.

The reality is that accommodations are often much smaller and simpler than people imagine. They can look like having access to a quiet space, or understanding that someone may need time alone. They can be as simple as being mindful of noise levels, limiting strong scents, or offering different lighting options. They might include allowing headphones or earplugs, having fidget tools available, or creating more flexibility in how someone shows up day to day.

In my own work environments, both teams I am part of understand that there are times when I need to step away from stimulation and be in a quieter space. They check in without making it a big deal, and they don’t take it personally. That is an accommodation. And it’s one of the reasons I am able to show up more fully in the work that I do.

This also shows up in everyday interactions. If you see someone wearing headphones, stepping away, or not engaging in a group setting, they are probably not being rude. They are regulating. That said, autism is not an excuse to be unkind, but a lot of what gets labeled as “rude” is actually someone trying to function in an environment that feels overwhelming.

So when we talk about acceptance, it has to go beyond simply acknowledging that autism exists. It looks like asking before physical touch, because not everyone experiences that as comforting. It looks like respecting sensory needs and not taking differences personally. It looks like creating environments where people can function, not just survive.

Autistic people don’t need to be fixed. They need to be understood and supported. And while there are strengths that come with neurodivergence, those strengths don’t cancel out the challenges.

If this is something you’re interested in learning more about, we’ve had some really good conversations on the Small Town Big Minds podcast around neurodiversity, including an episode during Neurodiversity Celebration Week that dives deeper into these experiences.

And this is also a topic I care deeply about in my work. I’m currently in the early stages of creating a course focused on supporting “neurospicy” brains in a way that is practical, realistic, and actually usable in daily life. That’s a little ways out (likely 2027), but it’s something I’m really excited to build thoughtfully.

In the meantime, the best place to start is simple: be a little more curious, a little more flexible, and a little more aware of how your environment might be affecting the people around you.

You never really know what someone else is navigating.