We talk so much about inclusion in tech that we sometimes forget to ask: what does inclusion feel like for the people we’re trying to include?
If you ask someone autistic, you might not get the answer you expect.
Inclusion doesn’t always mean action.
Sometimes, inclusion is stepping back. It’s resisting the urge to intervene, to explain, to label, to fix. It’s letting someone navigate the world on their own terms—without assumptions or forced smiles.
Véronique put it best:
“Kindness isn’t a crime. But forced kindness can be.”
And that’s where this story ends—not with a checklist, but with a shift in mindset.
The Problem with Performative Inclusion
There’s a growing trend in corporate spaces, especially in tech, to over-engineer “inclusive behavior.”
People are trained to offer help. To make room. To empathize. And while the intention is good, the execution can backfire.
When you jump in to help without asking, you risk taking away someone’s agency. You shift from ally to savior. You turn inclusion into supervision.
Imagine having a panic attack in a store—and someone grabs you by the arm, thinking they’re helping.
You don’t need fixing. You need space.
Real Inclusion Is Subtle
Inclusion is:
- Holding the door open without a comment.
- Letting someone skip the line because they clearly need to.
- Accepting someone’s different way of working—without making them explain it.
It’s in the details. In how we treat people when no one’s watching.
It’s the opposite of putting someone on a pedestal and calling it progress.
🛑 Ableism Isn’t Always Loud
It’s rarely a slur. It’s usually a sigh. A raised eyebrow.
A comment like: “We’re all tired sometimes” when someone shares they’re overstimulated.
Or: “You don’t look autistic” when someone explains their needs.
Microinvalidations.
Harmless on their own, but devastating in volume. Especially for people who already feel like they’re masking just to survive the day.
Inclusion Doesn’t Mean Agreement
You don’t have to understand everything about neurodivergence to be inclusive.
You just have to:
- Listen with curiosity, not judgment.
- Avoid assuming your experience is universal.
- Let people tell you what they need—and believe them the first time.
The Final Word: Let Them Be Whole
Here’s the truth: many autistic folks (and neurodivergent people broadly) are exhausted from adapting.
They adapt to social norms, to sensory overload, to workplace etiquette, to unclear expectations, to sarcasm, to noise, to “unwritten rules.”
What they need isn’t more workshops or checklists.
They need workplaces—and teammates—who trust that they know themselves.
Let them stim. Let them rest. Let them type instead of speak.
Let them not make eye contact. Let them clarify details more than you think is “normal.”
Let them be whole.
And when in doubt?
Just ask: “Do you want help, or space?”
Because that simple question—asked kindly, without a spotlight—might be the most inclusive thing you ever do.
Bonus Resource:
If you’re looking to go deeper into the subtle realities of neurodiversity and masking, I highly recommend the work of Devon Price – especially their book “Unmasking Autism.”
Check it out →
