When They Say “He Doesn’t Look Autistic…”

What do you do when everyone still thinks “he’s normal”? When they say “he doesn’t look autistic”, as if there’s only one way autism is supposed to show up in this world?

For me, that part was hard. Really hard.
It felt like a slap in the face, especially coming from those closest to me. People who’ve spent a few days around him, who share bloodlines, who say they love him; and yet, doubt what I’ve seen day in and day out. Maybe they’re afraid to accept it. Maybe they simply don’t want to.

I’ll be honest…sometimes their doubts shook me. I’ve found myself back in a quiet corner of denial, questioning what I knew to be true. But not for long. Because every time I’m reminded: something about him “is different”. And that’s okay. That’s not something to fear. That’s something to support.

I can’t make people believe it. I can’t change how they choose to see him. I can’t force understanding or reshape their comfort zones. But what I CAN change is his outcome.

As his mother, I have the power to create an environment where he can thrive. Even if that means giving him space to have a meltdown without shame. Even if it means carving out quiet time in a noisy room. Even if it means making a meal he may not eat because “what if he does” or  “what if he doesn’t?” That’s something I will never know without doing so. I’m willing to make space either way. He is my son.

This isn’t 1985. This is 2025. Life is different. Neurodivergence is real; and generational curses are being broken in real time.

Some days, I feel like I’m all he’s got…the only one truly trying to understand the way his mind works, the way his heart beats. Others may minimize, dismiss, or speak from outdated expectations. But I know what he needs: compassion, flexibility, and room to be exactly who he is.

So to the mama reading this and feeling torn between what she knows in her gut and what the world says: Take your power back!

Claim your mama stamp. Your instincts? They matter. No shade to your mama or grandma or anyone who raised you—there’s love there. But this journey calls for something different. And you are allowed to answer that call!

You don’t need approval from people unwilling to research, learn, or even “try” to understand what your child needs. Surround yourself with those who see you. Build a new village, mama. One rooted in empathy, not ego or past consecrations.

And know this: You’re doing a good job. One decision, one breakdown, one breakthrough at a time. You’re doing what only “you” can do. And that’s more than enough!