“Isn’t everyone a little bit autistic?” (No.)

Why this question isn’t cool, and what to say instead.

Any autistic who has ever expressed a struggle, asked for an accommodation, or revealed their diagnosis to someone else, has gotten some of version of this response at least once.

Sometimes it’s an assertion: “Everyone’s a little autistic.”

Sometimes it’s a question: “Isn’t everyone a little autistic?”

In either case, it’s rarely malicious, at least in my experience. For most people, I think they’re simply flipping through their mental file labeled “autism” and trying to pull out whichever page seems most relevant to the conversation. And unfortunately, for a lot of folks, it’s an outdated and anemic file without much to draw on.

Sometimes it seems to be an attempt to a transition to discussion of some shared habit, interest, trait or behavior. It’s an earnest, if clumsy, segue to “Like for me, I love fidget toys when I feel anxious” or “my cousin is totally obsessed with trains.”

Other times, “isn’t everyone” seems to be deployed as a leveling tool, as if to emphasize that being autistic doesn’t make us less, inferior, or something else unequal: “We all feel awkward sometimes, don’t worry!”

A lot of times, there’s no follow-up at all, and it slips out almost instinctively to neutralize the discomfort that a lot of people have discussing disability or difference. They worry we feel othered, and in an attempt to avoid being the one doing the othering, they invite everyone to the party.: “No, no, we’re all the same here.”

Regardless of the intent, or the style of delivery, any version of “everyone’s a little bit autistic” makes things kinda weird.

Because spoiler alert: No, everyone is not autistic. Not even a little bit.

So, let’s talk about everyone-ing.

🌏 The “everyone” part

It’s easy to see why someone might assume “everyone is a little autistic” since a lot of autistic traits are things that neurotypicals sometimes do, in some capacity.

But for autistic folks, these things are more intense, more pronounced, more frequent, and/or more damaging, than they would be for a neurotypical person.

Sure, everyone might have a smell they don’t like. But for an autistic with scent sensitivity, there may be a lot of them, and the reaction goes beyond mild dislike or discomfort, and can cause severe reactions like headaches, gagging, or vomiting.

Sure, lots of neurotypical a might miss a social queue here and there. But for autistics, it’s more frequent, more intense and often impedes our ability to make and maintain relationships or jobs. It not just “kind of awkward sometimes.” It’s pervasive and constant and often results in us being branded as “rude,” “slow,” “mean,” “conceited,” or some other negative term that the occasional faux pas wouldn’t earn.

But being autistic is binary: Either you are autistic (formally or self-diagnosed), or you’re not. And most people are not, and being autistic is the exception.

🥧 The “little bit” part

Probably not surprising to hear that there is also no “little bit autistic.”

But I think this misconception also stems from a fundamental misunderstanding of the word “spectrum” when folks hear “autism spectrum.”

Many people believe the “autism spectrum” is like a measurement tool, or sort of “autist-o-meter” that goes from “a little autistic” to “extremely autistic.”

But in actuality, the spectrum refers to the wide range of ways that autism can present in different people.

Some autistics are completely non-verbal. Some autistics are limited only in their expressive language (speaking), or only in their receptive language (understanding). Some need assistive devices to help them communicate. Others are hyperlexic or hyperverbal, reading early or easily learning additional languages. They’re all autistic, and being autistic affects their communication in a wide variety of ways.

Some autistics have physical sensitivities, and are unable to tolerate certain textures, fabrics or pressure. Others have auditory sensitivity, and experience pain or panic around loud, sudden, or concurrent sounds. Others might be sensitive to temperatures, smells or foods. Some have a few of these sensitivities, or all these sensitivities. They’re all autistic, and being autistic impacts their sensory perception in a wide variety of ways.

(And remember, as we said earlier, we’re not talking about neurotypical sensory preferences, like “I don’t like chunky peanut butter, only smooth” or “Im more comfy with 600 thread count sheets than with 400.” We’re talking about “I can’t stop crying because I touched that microfiber cloth with my dry hand, and now I’m acutely aware of every skin cell on my hand and every ridge of my fingerprint, and it feels like my brain is on fire because that’s way too much to process.”)

There’s more to be said here about how this same misunderstanding of the “spectrum” contributes to the use of terms like “high-functioning” and “low-functioning,” which are as fictional as they are harmful and ableist.

I’m working on another post on that topic, but in the mean time let’s suffice it to say that it’s not accurate to say that “everyone” is autistic, and there’s no such thing as “a little autistic,” either.

💜 The impact of everyone-ing

Accuracy aside, I really want to acknowledge the impact of ”everyone’s a little bit autistic,” whether it’s phrased as a statement or a question.

For someone who is assertive and confident, hearing “everyone’s a little bit autistic,” might be merely an annoyance. They’ll brush it off or dispute it, and then repeat their need or experience.

But for a lot of us, hearing “everyone’s a little bit autistic” isn’t just inaccurate, it’s a conversation-terminating phrase. It implies, that our experience of being autistic, or whatever challenge we’re facing, or whichever accommodation we’re asking for is in some way invalid, because everyone else is dealing with whatever we’re dealing with. And they’re just fine.

Even if the particular conversation where this phrase comes up isn’t something serious or life threatening, that response reflects and reinforces the gaslighting and dismissal many of us have experienced our entire lives:

• “Oh, come on. It isn’t that hot, just pick it up and bring it over here.”

• “You’re gagging?! Don’t be so dramatic. It’s the same yogurt, just chunky instead of smooth.”

• “You’re seriously not going to wear the sweater I got you? I know it’s not the one from your wish list, but wool is a much more durable fabric and this more fitted turtleneck style is in right now.”

• “This is the same volume we always play music, and no other guests have complained about it.”

• “Listen, everyone else has their camera on for meetings, so you need to be on camera too. Is this going to be an issue?”

• “The anesthesia I gave you should be more than enough. You’re probably just feeling pressure, not pain. Hold still.”

Whether we were diagnosed as children or not, and whether we’ve disclosed that diagnosis or not, so many of us have repeatedly been told our feelings aren’t real, our senses are lying to us, and our requests are unreasonable.

(For the record, this isn’t hypothetical. Each of those bullets are paraphrased responses I’ve actually received when making a request or expressing a sensory need.)

And here’s the thing about many autistics. We’re good at pattern recognition. So whether it’s intended to be dismissive or not, we start to recognize that something like “everyone is a little autistic” is just another way of saying that our needs, senses and experiences don’t matter, we are not going to receive the help we’re asking for, and it’s time to be quiet. Again.

And that sucks.

⏭️ Moving beyond everyone-ing

So we know that not everyone is autistic, nobody is a little autistic, and that everyone-ing is just a generally uncool way to dismiss the concerns and needs of those who are. Sweet.

But what are neurotypicals and autistics supposed to do when we encounter everyone-ing out in the wild?

What can neurotypicals say instead of everyone-ing ?

Well, it depends on the person, the situation, your relationship and all the conversation that preceded that moment. (The way you might talk to an autistic partner, child, or coworker are necessarily different and nuanced.)

But in general, here’s a few options that aren’t dismissive or presumptive, and that I’ve reacted positively to myself.

Reacting to disclosure of being autistic:

“I didn’t know that about you. Thanks for sharing.”

“Can you share more about what that means for you?”

“Is there something I can do to support you better?”

Reaction to an autistic’s need or request for accommodation:

“Absolutely! I’m happy to help.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not able to _____, but let’s talk about how else I can help.”

“If we could ______, would that be helpful?”

“What can I do to be more tolerant, supportive and helpful?”

How can autistics and neurotypicals respond to everyone-ing?

Well, I can’t tell you how to live your life. And even if I “could,” I wouldn’t because I’m still figuring it all out myself. But here’s some approaches I’ve used myself, and some I’ve seen others use, so you can try on whichever feel right to you. (Or don’t. I’m not in charge, remember?)

Ignore or Dismiss: This can work for overstimulated autistics when we don’t have the energy for more or when we’re pressed for time. It also works well for low-risk situations with random people you won’t see again.

Continue or redirect the conversation without acknowledging the everyone-ing.

Repeat your request or need without acknowledging the everyone-ing.

“Regardless….” / “That aside…” / “That’s a whole other discussion, but…”

Correct & Continue: While this option may potentially make one person more informed and autistic-friendly, it also requires more energy, which can be a challenge for autistics already in distress or requesting accommodation. (And if that’s you, that’s ok: See above.)

“No, not everyone is autistic. But I am, which is why…”

“While we might share some similar traits as people, being autistic is a an experience unique to autistics, which is why I need…”

“Unfortunately there’s a lot of misinformation about what it means to be autistic. But what I need is…”

You might also consider shameless promoting this very newsletter because it’s educational about the autistic experience but also fun, and that’s what the people want! (Or don’t. I had to try, right? 😉 )