Conversations about autism often focus on clinical definitions or inspirational stories, yet one of the most charged and complicated dynamics emerges in families. The original article explores a specific and controversial figure in that space: so-called “autism moms,” mothers who center their children’s diagnoses in their public identities and social media presence. It offers a critical look at how some of these parents represent autism, how they speak about their autistic children, and how that affects the broader autistic community, especially autistic adults and people with lower support needs.

The author begins by reflecting on receiving an autism diagnosis at around age twelve. At the time, they did not fully understand what was being tested. The evaluation felt like a series of “fun little brain games” and a day out of school. Only months later, when the results were explained, did the label “autistic” land in a serious way. Instead of feeling like an answer, it felt like a threat to their identity. The author had already absorbed the harsh stereotypes that society attached to autistic people: that they were incapable, unintelligent, and undeserving of being treated like fully human. With those distorted images in mind, they rejected the label and refused to see it as part of who they were.

It was not until years later, in college, that they revisited what autism meant. By then they had taken time to do their own research, to listen to other autistic voices, and to connect specific traits and experiences in their life to autism in a more informed way. The diagnosis shifted from something to deny into something that helped explain how their brain works. Only then did they become comfortable calling themselves autistic and embracing autistic identity as part of their self-understanding.

Against that backdrop, the author turns to the phenomenon of “autism moms” on social media. These are primarily mothers of autistic children who build entire online platforms around their child’s autism. On sites like Facebook and TikTok, these parents share stories, daily routines, and often very personal moments, sometimes in the name of spreading autism awareness. The author is clear that sharing information about autism is not inherently harmful. More perspectives can help neurotypical people understand that autism exists on a spectrum and that every autistic person is different.

The concern lies in how some of these parents frame their stories. According to the article, certain “autism moms” present their child’s autism as a burden that primarily affects the parent or the rest of the family. Posts may center the mother’s emotional struggles, exhaustion, or sense of loss rather than the child’s experiences and rights. In some cases, parents even record and upload their children’s meltdowns, turning moments of intense distress into content for public consumption. The common pattern the author identifies is that these parents often position themselves as spokespersons or interpreters for their autistic children and can appear to seek control over their narratives, even as those children grow into adults.

One high-profile example in the article is Christine Romeo, mother of Abbey Romeo, who appeared on the Netflix series “Love on the Spectrum.” The author focuses on their joint appearance in Jubilee’s “Middle Ground” series, where autistic and non-autistic people discuss prompts about autism and disability. Watching that video, the author noticed several moments in which Christine appeared to speak on Abbey’s behalf or to correct her in real time. For instance, when participants reacted to the prompt “I find the word ‘disabled’ offensive,” Abbey initially moved forward, seemingly indicating agreement. The article describes Abbey then looking to her mother for approval and Christine audibly telling her, “I think you should go back there.” To the author, this sounded like coaching and a subtle way of steering Abbey’s response instead of letting her voice stand on its own.

The author writes that they wished Abbey could have attended the discussion alone and spoken without worrying whether her mother would approve. They also note that Christine used dismissive language about people who are self-diagnosed autistic, suggesting that without a formal diagnosis the identity is invalid or dilutes the experiences of autistic people like Abbey, who has higher support needs and has spent over fifteen years in speech and occupational therapy.

This is where the author believes “autism moms” can harm the autistic community. Diagnosed later than many and describing themselves as having lower support needs, the author argues that certain parents, including Christine, inadvertently gatekeep autism. When parents imply that only people with substantial support needs count as “really autistic,” they erase the realities of autistic people whose needs look different. The article highlights a phrase often used in autistic communities: “If you’ve met one autistic person, then you’ve met one autistic person.” Autism is described as a spectrum, not a simple line from “less autistic” to “more autistic.” Support needs vary widely and can change over time. That variation does not make anyone less autistic or less legitimate in their diagnosis.

The author critiques the idea that someone must closely resemble one particular autistic person in profile or support needs to be recognized as autistic. Dismissing those who are self-diagnosed, in their view, ignores important structural issues. Access to formal evaluation is not equal. Comprehensive psychological assessments can be expensive and time consuming, and some people do not have the financial resources, healthcare coverage, or local specialists necessary to pursue a formal diagnosis. For them, self-diagnosis based on careful research and alignment with clinical criteria may be the only accessible path to understanding themselves.

The article emphasizes that for many people, the autism label provides clarity and a sense of relief. It can explain lifelong patterns, challenges, and strengths that previously felt confusing or isolating. When parents publicly insist that only people with diagnoses like their child’s are “real” autistic people, they send a chilling message to those who are just beginning to explore whether they might be autistic. The author argues that this makes it harder for people to seek assessment, connect with autistic communities, or even feel entitled to consider the label.

In describing “autism moms” who frame autism as a black and white category, the author suggests that such views flatten the richness of the autism spectrum. People with higher support needs absolutely deserve visibility and resources, but centering one narrow presentation of autism as the standard can unintentionally marginalize others. A more inclusive view would recognize that autistic people have a wide range of communication styles, abilities, and support needs, all of which fit under the same neurodevelopmental umbrella.

I found this tension between parental advocacy and autistic self-advocacy particularly striking. Parents often step in as protectors, translators, and organizers, especially when children are young and navigating complex systems. Yet as autistic people grow, the balance of power and voice becomes crucial. The article suggests that allies who truly support autistic people should amplify their voices, respect self-identification, and acknowledge that different autistic experiences can coexist without canceling each other out.

In the end, the author calls for more nuance and humility from parents who speak publicly about their autistic children. Sharing stories can be valuable, but those stories should not eclipse the perspectives of autistic individuals themselves, nor should they be used to tightly police who counts as autistic. Recognizing that autism manifests in many ways can help create a more supportive environment, where late-diagnosed people, self-diagnosed people, and those with both low and high support needs are all seen as valid members of the autistic community.

Read more at https://www.hercampus.com/school/u-conn/why-i-hate-autism-moms-as-an-autistic-person/