On the Wikipedia page for autism, the first image is of a toddler stacking cans, something that has become an in-joke for the autistic community. The “autism baby,” proudly embraced by many, symbolizes the stigmas surrounding autism. While autism is no longer strictly pigeonholed as a condition faced only by young boys, it is still infantilized, primarily seen through the lens of kids with it and parents dealing with those kids. Autistic adults are often pushed aside, dismissed, and treated as childish for their issues and idiosyncrasies. This is an issue I encounter not just as a writer covering autism but as an autistic person.

CHILD-CENTRIC AUTISM RESEARCH

A common scenario when I research autism is finding information mostly about how it affects or how to help children. There's an abundance of resources for parents of autistic children, which is important, but when looking for resources for autistic adults, I often find nothing. The image of autism is overwhelmingly one of children. Googling "resources for autism" yields results from youth research facilities, tips for families of autistic children, and pictures of small children, but very few aimed at autistic adults and/or autistic people themselves.

CHILD-FOCUSED AUTISM SUPPORT

Accommodations for autistic people focus primarily on children—sensory-friendly haircuts, kids’ movie screenings, and survival kits for parents of autistic children. This support seems to disappear as soon as they're too old for stacking cans to be cute and becomes weird to others. Even when recognized as autistic, adults' struggles and interests are seen as childish. Meltdowns in children are accepted, but in adults or older minors, they're met with less understanding. I experienced this firsthand, growing fearful of public reactions due to past negative experiences.

YOUTH PERCEPTIONS OF IMMATURITY

It isn't as if this perception helps autistic children either. Even young kids are deathly afraid of seeming childish and will turn their scorn for their own immaturity onto any peers they perceive as too childish. In elementary school, I was relentlessly bullied for my special interests: Pokémon and stuffed animals. They were seen as "for babies" compared to the popular interests in my school—horror movies, Call of Duty, and Twilight. I grew terrified of anyone knowing what I liked because my interests were never in vogue. It became hard to find like-minded people because I was too scared to tell anyone what we might have in common. Despite now being surrounded by wonderful people who love me and appreciate my passions, that fear lingers of being scorned for my interests, affecting my ability to express myself openly. I still feel twinges of fear and embarrassment when I go down a toy aisle to look for new plushies to add to my collection, no matter how much joy I feel when I find a soft, huggable stuffed animal.

BEYOND AUTISM: WIDER CHALLENGES

This issue isn't exclusive to the autistic community. Disabled people, in general, face society's condescension and infantilization. These are my observations and experiences as an autistic person. I can't speak for other perspectives, but I'd love to hear your experiences with this issue as well, if you have any.