Written in October 2025
This is the concept that autistic adults with support needs are not visible in society to the same degree as autistic children. This is connected to the larger issue of ageing as an autistic person.
Autistic children are always more visible than adults. Autistic people don’t learn to mask straight away and while many of the late diagnosed folk, myself included, may appear to have masked from early childhood it is often the case that our traits weren’t noticed by the teachers, parents and clinicians of the time. Why didn’t those people notice us then?
Because we were already invisible.
Many late diagnosed autistic people were invisible within their own families because the traits we displayed were not at odds with the rest of the family. Given the genetic nature of autism it is not surprising that those of us who grew up in quiet households, with minimal sensory overwhelm and a consistent routine (as per the needs of our parent/s) did not give family members cause for concern in childhood.
We may also have been invisible through school; with average or above average intelligence and a system that suited the rules-based, timetabled nature of school (especially primary school) we may never have given our teachers much cause for concern either. As Chris Bonnello put it “I was autistic in mainstream education and I totally got away with it”. *
Now, as we age, we are going to become invisible once again, consigned to care homes that are ill-equipped to manage the needs of autistic adults in their later years. If we are reliant on parents (themselves ageing) or other family members who won’t always have the time for us, we risk becoming isolated and even more invisible when they die or move away – people who live independently are often just assumed to be doing OK, because if we weren’t, we’d be in a home, right? Well, you only get into a home before crisis point if you have support around you. If you don’t have support, it’s only through mandated reporters that social services might become aware of an adult struggling to cope.
For many of us who have fluctuating support needs, but who don’t actually get any formal help, we face a dire situation. It’s something that also may affect the self-identified; as is the case with a lot of older adult care, the receipt of certain benefits or medical evidence of disability is required in order to access the right sort of care. What do you do if you don’t have the bit of paper?
What scares me is being cared for in a group home where my sensory needs are ignored and my preferences for social communication are over-ridden by “targets” aimed at meeting care standards that are set without the needs of neurodivergent people in mind. There is also the risk of being abused by staff who are underpaid, overworked and experiencing severe empathy fatigue. Decisions may be made in my “best interests” which do not align with my true best interests, but the interests of neurotypical care standards.
I will be looking forward to the isolation of older age. Isolation is one of the things I don’t get enough of now, and which I cherish for my wellbeing. I will, of course, maintain social contact with interest groups and people who I see 1 to 1 or in small groups. The internet will make maintaining meaningful** social contact much easier than it has been for past generations.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve always been part of an invisible generation, or because now I’m middle aged, I am socially invisible in public and finding that to be a relief? Perhaps it’s because I fear being institutionalised in a place where my needs will be ignored (an experience I have had for most of my life)? One thing I can be sure of is that the topic of ageing will only become more important for me, and for my peers.
**I mean where there’s genuine interest and information exchange, not performative face time that meets the need for social contact as defined for neurotypical mental health.