Unstrange Mind

Note: This blog essay and resource lists are U.S.-centric because I live in the U.S. and am only familiar with U.S. processes and resources. I apologize for this provincial restriction. If you have or know of similar essays and resource lists for other countries, please let me know so I can link to them. Thank you.

Many adults reach a point in life when they start wondering whether they might be Autistic, ADHD, or both. Sometimes this comes after years of feeling “out of step” with the people around you. Sometimes it’s triggered by hitting a wall of burnout that won’t lift, workplace conflicts that keep repeating, friendships that feel confusing or exhausting, or a lifetime of being told you’re “too much,” “too sensitive,” or “not trying hard enough.”

For others, the shift happens more quietly: stumbling across language from Autistic or ADHD communities that suddenly fits. Recognizing yourself in someone’s story online. Seeing one of your children get diagnosed and reflecting that you were just like them when you were their age. Realizing that the explanations you’ve been handed over the years never quite matched your lived experience. Or looking back at a string of misdiagnoses and thinking, “What if they were all circling something deeper?”

Wherever you’re starting, you’re not alone. Many people come to this inquiry later in adulthood, and there’s no wrong timing. This post is meant to help you sort through the early steps: what to consider, what tools might help, and how to decide whether an official assessment makes sense for you.

Why People Seek an Official Diagnosis

There are many reasons an adult might choose to pursue an official diagnosis. For some, it’s about access to doors that only open when paperwork exists. A formal report can make it easier to request workplace accommodations, seek school supports, or document the need for flexibility. In environments that rely on policies and checkboxes, a diagnosis often becomes the key that unlocks them.

For others, the motivation is more internal. A diagnosis can offer a sense of validation and clarity that’s hard to find elsewhere: the relief of having language that matches your lived reality, or the reassurance of finally understanding long-standing patterns that never made sense through any other lens. And some people are only able to find the strength to advocate for themselves within their family if they are backed by an official diagnosis.

Some adults pursue assessment because it connects them to specific supports or benefits: things like disability services, vocational rehabilitation, insurance-covered therapies, or government programs that require formal documentation.

And sometimes the decision is practical. A diagnosis becomes part of your documented history in medical, legal, or employment settings. Having that record can matter for future care, life transitions, or navigating systems that tend to treat undocumented needs as nonexistent.

None of these reasons are “more valid” than others.

Reasons People Do Not Seek an Official Diagnosis

Just as there are good reasons to pursue a diagnosis, there are equally valid reasons many adults choose not to. The first barrier is often cost or access. Assessments can be expensive, and in many regions the waitlists stretch for months or even years. For people already dealing with burnout or instability, that kind of delay can feel impossible.

Another obstacle is fear of stigma or biased providers. Too many adults have had experiences with clinicians who misunderstand autism or ADHD in adults, especially in women, nonbinary people, people of color, and anyone who’s learned to mask. The risk of being dismissed, judged, or misdiagnosed is real, and not everyone feels safe stepping into that vulnerability.

For some, the barrier is deeper: past trauma with medical or mental-health systems. If you’ve been harmed, ignored, or pathologized before, trusting another professional can feel unreasonable.

There are also practical concerns. Some adults worry about employment or insurance implications, or about how a diagnosis might be viewed by institutions that don’t always treat neurodivergence with nuance. Some may fear losing custody of their children if they get an official diagnosis. (I wish I could say that fear is completely unfounded, but I would be lying.)

And for many people, the simplest truth is that self-identification is enough. If understanding yourself through an Autistic or ADHD lens improves your life, helps you make better choices, or gives you access to community, you may not feel like you need a clinician’s confirmation to legitimize your experience.

Choosing not to pursue formal assessment is a valid and respectable decision. You’re allowed to decide what supports your wellbeing. I will say that it is important to think the decision through carefully because once you get assessed, you can’t erase that record. Once you come out Autistic or ADHD to an employer or institution, you can’t take it back.

What Online Screeners Can (and Cannot) Do

If you’re starting to explore autism or ADHD, online screeners can be a helpful first step, but it’s important to understand what they’re designed to do. These tools are not diagnostic on their own. A high score doesn’t equal a diagnosis, and a low score doesn’t rule anything out. They’re screening instruments meant to highlight patterns worth paying attention to.

What many people don’t realize is that clinicians often use the exact same assessments during intake. Tools like the AQ, CAT-Q, RAADS-R, or the ASRS are standard parts of many professionals’ evaluation processes. The difference is that a clinician interprets them in context, combining your scores with interviews, history, and other measures.

Online screeners can still be incredibly useful. They can help you clarify patterns you may not have articulated yet, highlight traits you’ve never named, and give you language for experiences you’ve had your whole life. They also allow you to gather data in a low-pressure, private way and reflect on the results without anyone judging your answers.

If you decide to seek a formal assessment later, these early results can help you feel more prepared and grounded. They can give you a clearer understanding of your traits and make it easier to talk with a professional about what you’ve noticed.

Screeners don’t diagnose you, but they can help you begin to recognize yourself.

Reputable Online Screeners

If you’d like to explore your traits in a structured way, these well-known screeners are widely used by both researchers and clinicians. Many assessors include them during intake (my most recent assessment used many of these screeners, in addition to other tests and interviews), so completing them yourself can give you a head start and help you understand your own patterns.

RAADS-R (Ritvo Autism Asperger Diagnostic Scale–Revised)

 Measures lifelong autistic traits, including sensory, social, and cognitive patterns.

CAT-Q (Camouflaging Autistic Traits Questionnaire)

 Looks at masking behaviors—useful for adults who learned to hide traits.

AQ (Autism Spectrum Quotient)

 A widely used general screener for autistic traits. This is one of the oldest screeners.

RBQ-2A (Repetitive Behaviours Questionnaire–2 for Adults)

 Focuses specifically on patterns of repetition and routine.

ASRS-v1.1 (Adult ADHD Self-Report Scale)

 One of the most common ADHD intake tools used worldwide.

MEWS (Mind Excessive Wandering Scale)

 Measures attention shifting, mind-wandering, and internal distractibility.

WFIRS (Weiss Functional Impairment Rating Scale)

 Looks at how ADHD traits affect daily functioning. (Scoring guide)

No single screener captures the full picture. Autism and ADHD both show up differently from person to person, so taking several assessments can give you a broader sense of your patterns. Think of these tools as snapshots: each one adds detail but none tells the whole story on its own. You’re allowed to combine them to understand yourself better.

How to Use Results When Deciding Next Steps

Once you’ve taken a few screeners, the most important part isn’t the score. What matters most is what the results mean in the context of your lived experience. Spend some time reflecting on the patterns that showed up. Do the descriptions feel familiar? Do they explain things you’ve struggled with or masked for years? Or do they highlight traits you hadn’t recognized until now?

It can also help to consider how these traits affect your daily life: your relationships, your work, your energy levels, and the ways you move through the world. Many adults discover that their traits have shaped their choices and challenges for decades, even if they never had language for it before. I can’t count how many times someone in one of my support groups has said, “I just thought that was part of my personality. I didn’t realize it was something I have in common with many other Autistic people.”

If you decide to speak with a professional later, your screener results can serve as conversation starters. You don’t need to present them as proof. You can use them to develop observations. Something like, “These patterns keep coming up for me, and I’d like to understand why,” is enough. Clinicians are used to weaving self-report tools into the broader picture.

And it’s important to remember you’re not signing a contract with your own curiosity. You do not have to pursue a diagnosis just because scores showed up on a screener. Some people use the insights to reshape their life on their own terms. Others seek formal assessment. Both choices are valid, and both are yours to make.

Pathways to Official Assessment

Talking to a PCP or GP

If you decide you want a formal evaluation, a primary care provider is often the first stop. Many adults feel nervous about this step, but a simple, direct approach usually works best. You don’t need a long speech or a detailed life story.

One way to start is:

“I’ve been noticing long-term patterns that align with autism/ADHD, and I’d like an evaluation with someone who works with adults.”

This keeps the focus on your needs rather than defending your experiences.

If you’ve taken online screeners, you can bring the results without over-explaining. A doctor doesn’t need a full analysis. Just letting them know that the patterns show up consistently is enough. Something like:

“I completed a few standard screeners, and they indicate traits worth exploring further.”

This signals that you’ve done your homework without putting you in the position of proving anything.

Be specific about what you’re asking for: a referral to a psychologist or psychiatrist who evaluates autistic or ADHD adults. (Or other specialist professionals. See the section about other diagnostic professionals below.)

Adult-focused assessors are important because many clinicians are still trained primarily on childhood presentations. A professional might be excellent with children but if they have no real experience with adults, there’s a strong chance they won’t be able to identify whether you are Autistic/ADHD or not. Even worse, they may mis-diagnose you as NOT Autistic and/or ADHD because adults do not present the same way children do.

And if your GP dismisses your concerns or minimizes your experience? That’s unfortunately common. You have options. You can:

• Request a second opinion from another provider in the same clinic.
• Switch doctors if your insurance allows it.
• Seek assessment independently through specialists or clinics that accept self-referrals.
• Address the topic again at a future visit, bringing written notes next time to keep the conversation more focused.

A GP’s reaction isn’t the final word on your neurotype. It’s simply a step in the process, and you get to decide how to move forward.

Assessment Through Insurance or Local Providers

If you have insurance, your plan may cover part (or sometimes most) of an adult autism or ADHD evaluation. Start by looking for psychologists or psychiatrists who explicitly list adult ASD/ADHD assessment in their services. This matters; training in child assessment doesn’t always translate well to adult presentations, especially for people who mask or who were overlooked earlier in life.

Another option is university psychology clinics, where advanced graduate students conduct assessments under supervision from licensed clinicians. These clinics often use the same standardized tools as private practices but at a much lower cost. Because they operate in academic settings, they’re also more likely to be up-to-date on adult neurodiversity research.

For those without insurance or with limited coverage, sliding-scale clinics might bridge the gap. Community mental health centers, nonprofit agencies, and some private practices offer reduced fees based on income. Availability varies by region and is easier to find in urban areas than rural, but these services can significantly lower the cost of getting evaluated.

Each of these pathways has its own wait times, costs, and levels of expertise. The key is finding a provider who understands adult neurodivergence, not just childhood stereotypes, and who makes you feel respected throughout the process.

Online Assessment Providers

If a local in-person assessment isn’t practical, whether because of geography, cost, or scheduling constraints, there are now a growing number of telehealth providers offering full adult autism and/or ADHD assessments. These services are often more flexible and accessible than traditional clinics. I’ve included a list of many available online providers at the end of this blog post.

Important Notes & What to Verify Before Using an Online Provider

Licensure in Your State: For any telehealth assessment, ensure the clinician is licensed in the state where you physically live. This ensures the diagnosis will be valid and recognized.

Full Report vs. Letter vs. Summary: If you need diagnosis documentation for workplaces, schools, or accommodations, make sure the provider offers a formal, detailed report (not just a brief summary or a recommendation letter).

Scope of Access (ASD, ADHD, or Both): Some services specialize in just autism or just ADHD; others cover both, which matters if you suspect overlapping conditions (like AuDHD).

Cost & Payment Models: Some accept insurance or offer out-of-network receipts, others are strictly private-pay. Some offer sliding-scale or lower-cost options.

Wait Times & Appointment Flexibility: One of the big benefits of telehealth is often shorter wait times and scheduling flexibility. But this varies. Some clinics may still be busy.

Neurodiversity-Affirming Approach & Adult-Focused Assessment: Especially for people diagnosed late or who mask, you want a clinician or service that understands adult presentation, masking, and diversity of experience.

In-Person Specialists

Some adults prefer (or need) to be evaluated in person. If that’s you, there are several types of professionals who commonly assess Autistic or ADHD adults.

Neuropsychologists are often the most comprehensive option. They conduct full cognitive and behavioral evaluations, sometimes spanning several hours or multiple sessions. These assessments can include memory tests, executive function measures, problem-solving tasks, attention assessments, and standardized autism instruments. A full neuropsych assessment can be especially helpful if you have a complex history, overlapping conditions, or need detailed documentation for school, disability, or legal contexts.

Adult autism specialists are typically licensed psychologists, psychiatrists, or clinical social workers who focus directly on Autistic traits and lived experience in adulthood. Their assessments tend to be more targeted and conversational, relying on clinical interviews, history, and structured autism tools. These evaluations are often more relevant for high-masking adults, late-identified people, or those who need a diagnosis for work accommodations rather than an exhaustive cognitive profile.

In some regions, occupational therapists (OTs) with advanced training in sensory processing or autism can participate in the assessment process. Their role varies widely by location and licensing laws: some OTs provide formal evaluations or co-assessments, while others offer sensory profiles, functional assessments, and recommendations that complement a psychologist’s diagnosis.

The biggest difference between a full neuropsychological assessment and a targeted ASD/ADHD evaluation is the scope. Neuropsych testing looks at the whole cognitive landscape: how you think, learn, remember, and problem-solve. A targeted assessment focuses specifically on autistic or ADHD traits and how they show up in daily life. Neither approach is “better”; it depends on what you need. A narrower evaluation may be faster and more affordable, while a neuropsych exam can provide a deeper understanding of your strengths, challenges, and support needs.

The right choice for you is the one that fits your goals, your comfort level, and the kind of documentation you may want or need.

What to Expect During an Assessment

If you choose to pursue a formal evaluation, it can help to know what the process usually looks like. While exact formats vary from one clinician to another, most adult ASD or ADHD assessments include a few core components.

You’ll typically start with a clinical interview where the assessor asks about your history, patterns, strengths, challenges, and the experiences that led you to seek evaluation. This conversation may touch on childhood memories, sensory traits, social patterns, communication style, attention, routines, burnout, and coping strategies. Many assessors now explicitly ask about masking and unmasking, and how these behaviors have shaped your daily life.

Most evaluations include standardized measures, which might take the form of questionnaires you fill out on your own, rating scales, or guided tasks. Some clinicians also request input from a partner, friend, or family member, though this isn’t mandatory, especially for people who don’t have supportive or available informants.

The time commitment varies. A focused ASD or ADHD evaluation might take one to three hours, while a full neuropsych assessment can run several hours across multiple appointments. Afterward, the clinician may need days or weeks to integrate your results into a written report.

It’s also normal for the process to stir up emotional responses. Talking about lifelong patterns, especially the parts shaped by misunderstanding, trauma, or chronic masking, can be activating. Many late-identified adults feel a mix of relief, grief, clarity, or vulnerability during and after assessment. This is a common part of the journey, not a sign that you’re doing anything wrong.

The good news is that many assessors are now familiar with late-identified adults and the unique ways autism and ADHD present in people who learned to compensate or camouflage. You don’t have to “perform” your traits or fit any stereotype. Your lived experience is enough, and a thoughtful clinician will help you make sense of it without judgment.

Alternatives to Formal Diagnosis

Not everyone needs or wants a formal clinical diagnosis, and that’s completely valid. Many adults find that self-identification, rooted in lived experience, gives them all the clarity they need. If the framework helps you understand yourself, make sense of your past, and build a better life going forward, that recognition has real value even without a clinician’s signature.

There are also non-clinical supports that can make a meaningful difference. Peer-led spaces, community groups, educational resources, and neurodiversity-informed coaching can help you navigate sensory needs, executive function challenges, communication differences, and burnout without requiring a diagnostic label. These supports don’t diagnose you. They focus on understanding, skill-building, and validation.

For example, I facilitate peer support groups for Autistic and AuDHD adults and I never require anyone to have an official diagnosis to attend. I don’t even require attendees to be 100% sure they are Autistic and/or have ADHD. As I tell my support group members, questioning your neurotype is valid. Some participants have come to feel more sure about whether they are or are not neurodivergent as a result of attending the group and interacting with others.

Many adults also choose to set up accommodations informally in their own lives: using noise-cancelling headphones, structuring their days around attention cycles, reducing sensory overload, planning social recovery time, or reshaping their environment to match their rhythms. You don’t need an official diagnosis to give yourself the tools and conditions you function best in.

For some people, self-ID is enough, especially when the goal is personal insight, community connection, or healthier self-understanding. But there are times when a formal diagnosis may be useful or necessary: accessing disability services, securing workplace or school accommodations, applying for benefits, or navigating certain medical systems. It’s also helpful if you need documentation for legal, educational, or long-term planning purposes.

Ultimately, the right path is the one that supports your wellbeing. A diagnosis can be a tool, not a requirement. And self-recognition is just as real, meaningful, and valid.

Conclusion

There is no single “right way” to approach the question of whether you’re autistic, ADHD, or both. Some people find clarity through self-reflection. Others find it through community. And some choose formal assessment because it opens doors they need opened. All of these paths are valid.

What matters most is choosing what supports your wellbeing, safety, and access needs. You’re allowed to move slowly, to change direction, or to sit with the questions for as long as you need. You’re also allowed to pursue answers quickly if that’s what helps you feel grounded.

If you want to go deeper, you can explore additional resources, connect with peer-led spaces, or read more of my posts on late identification, Autistic and ADHD traits in adulthood, and navigating life through a neurodivergent lens. I’ve included some self-assessment books below this essay as well.

Wherever you are in this process, you’re not alone. Your curiosity about yourself is something worth honoring.

Appendix A: Some Online Assessment Providers

NeuroSpark Health

Offers comprehensive adult autism (and ADHD) assessments via telehealth for people in 46+ U.S. states. Uses the semi-structured interview tool (MIGDAS-2) designed for adults; tailored to high-masking or late-diagnosed individuals.

They do not accept insurance directly; costs are out-of-pocket, though clients may get a “superbill” for possible reimbursement.

Sachs Center

Provides virtual adult autism and ADHD testing. Offers a “Diagnostic Testing” (telehealth) option, and a “Diagnostic + Report” for a more detailed clinical report, which can support accommodation requests.

Because it’s private-pay, you’ll need to confirm whether your insurance offers out-of-network reimbursement. Also, check whether their report meets documentation requirements for accommodations (work, school, etc.).

Prosper Health

Offers specialized adult autism assessments entirely via telehealth, staffed by licensed psychologists experienced with autism in adults. Services may be covered by insurance (depending on plan), and the “get started within weeks” promise helps avoid long waitlists.

As with any telehealth provider, confirm that your insurance is accepted and whether sessions are in-network. Also check licensing for your state.

North Metro Psychological Services

Provides nationwide telehealth autism evaluations, with an emphasis on neurodiversity-affirming care and sensitivity to late-diagnosed or high-masking adults (including women, AFAB, and gender-diverse folks).

Because clinicians must be licensed in your state, availability may depend on where you live. Verify licensure ahead of time.

ADHD Online

Offers fully online diagnostic evaluations for ADHD (and co-occurring conditions) by licensed clinicians; deliver a clinical-quality report.

Check whether their report is accepted by your doctor or institution; verify cost and state licensure.

OAT (Online Adult Testing)

Provides online ASD and ADHD testing services for adults via a secure portal.

As with all remote services — verify clinician license for your state, what kind of report you receive, and whether it meets documentation needs.

Blue Tide Therapy

Provides virtual autism (and dyslexia) evaluations for adults in certain U.S. states. Their advertised cost ($400) is lower than many full evaluations.

Because service regions are limited (only certain states), check whether your location is covered. Also verify what kind of diagnostic report you receive and whether it’s accepted by third-party institutions.

Appendix B: A Few Useful Books about Self-Assessment and/or Self Understanding

So You Think You’re Autistic: A Workbook for the Confused Person Who’s Just Trying to Figure Things Out (2022) Samantha Stein

I Think I Might Be Autistic: A Guide to Autism Spectrum Disorder Diagnosis and Self-Discovery for Adults (2013) Cynthia Kim

The Autistic’s Guide to Self-Discovery: Flourishing as a Neurodivergent Adult (2025) Sol Smith

You Mean I’m Not Lazy, Stupid or Crazy?! The Classic Self-Help Book for Adults with Attention Deficit Disorder (2006) Kate Kelly and Peggy Ramundo

Understanding Adult ADHD: From Signs and Symptoms to Causes and Diagnosis (2014) Christine Weil

President Donald Trump has announced plans to issue an executive order eliminating mail-in ballots and voting machines, forcing Americans to vote only in person and on paper. He frames this as a “return to integrity,” but for millions of disabled people, it’s nothing less than an act of disenfranchisement.

Disabled Americans already face enormous barriers to voting: polling places without ramps, machines that don’t work with screen readers, poll workers who don’t know the law. The ACLU has long documented how many of us are turned away, forced to rely on others to fill out our ballots, or left with no way to vote at all. Mail-in voting is not a luxury for us — it is often the only path to casting a ballot privately, safely, and independently.

Disability Advocates Have Already Spoken

This is not just my opinion. Disability rights organizations have been sounding the alarm for years:

Twenty national disability organizations issued a joint statement warning that requiring paper-only ballots would “disenfranchise voters with print disabilities” and segregate us from the rest of the electorate until fully accessible systems exist.

The Center for American Progress explained that vote-by-mail is essential for people with mobility challenges, sensory processing differences, or medical conditions that make crowded polling places dangerous.

The American Council of the Blind has emphasized that blind voters must be able to cast and verify ballots privately and independently. Forcing U.S. voters into paper-only systems strips away that independence.

Disability rights groups in Wisconsin and Ohio have gone to court to defend accessible absentee voting, pointing out that restrictions on mailed or assisted ballots directly violate the Americans with Disabilities Act.

These are not abstract policy debates. They are real world questions (many with life-or-death consequences) faced every day: Questions about whether disabled people will be allowed to participate in democracy as full citizens.

Mail-In Voting Is Disability Access

When Trump calls for eliminating mail-in ballots, he is not just attacking “fraud” (which is vanishingly rare). He is targeting the civil rights of disabled people, older adults, and anyone for whom in-person voting is physically impossible or unsafe.

Think about it: people who use ventilators, people in long-term care, people with severe chronic pain, autistic people who cannot endure hours-long lines and crowded rooms. Without mail-in voting, these citizens are effectively silenced.

That’s what makes this proposal not only dangerous but ableist. It ignores decades of disability rights law, advocacy, and lived experience. It treats our participation in democracy as expendable.

Democracy For Whom?

Every time Trump promises to abolish mail-in ballots, he is really saying: democracy is for the non-disabled only. Everyone else — stay home, stay silent, accept second-class status.

But we refuse. Disabled advocates, Autistic self-advocates, blind and low-vision leaders, mobility-impaired voters, and aging communities have been clear: accessible absentee and mail-in voting is a civil right. To eliminate it is to commit deliberate disenfranchisement on a massive scale.

Conclusion

Trump’s plan is not a neutral “election reform.” It is a discriminatory attack that will most deeply harm disabled people, elders, and anyone who depends on accessible voting. We need to name it plainly: this executive order would be an ableist assault on the ballot box.

If you care about democracy, you must care about disabled enfranchisement. And if you care about disabled enfranchisement, you must defend mail-in voting.

What You Can Do

• Contact your representatives. Tell them that eliminating mail-in ballots would disenfranchise millions of disabled voters. Demand they speak out and defend accessible voting.
• Support disability rights organizations. Groups like the ACLU, National Association of Councils on Developmental Disabilities, and American Council of the Blind are already leading this fight.
• Spread the word. Share articles, blogs, and personal stories to remind others that mail-in voting is not just a convenience — it is accessibility, and accessibility is a civil right.
• Center disabled voices. Listen to and amplify the testimony of those most affected by these attacks on voting rights.

If this essay resonated with you, here’s a way to support my work while proudly telling the world that your voice matters:

“I Am Autistic and I Vote” t-shirt, available now on Redbubble.

This bill is moving fast, and your senators need to hear from you now.

Right now, the U.S. Senate is considering Trump’s so-called “One Big Beautiful Bill.”

It’s a sweeping, high-stakes proposal that would reshape healthcare, disability access, immigration, education, environmental protections, and more—all in one massive vote.

This bill is moving fast, and your senators need to hear from you now.

Before it’s too late.

You don’t need to know everything about politics. You don’t need to say it perfectly.

You just need to say what matters to you—as a person who lives in their state, as someone directly affected, or as someone who cares.

Even if you’ve never contacted your senators before, this post will walk you through it.

Even if your heart is pounding or your brain is foggy, you can still do this.

This bill affects real people. It affects us. And your voice matters.

How to Find and Contact Your Senators (Even If You’ve Never Done It Before)

If you care about what’s happening in the world, you have a right to speak up. One powerful way to do that is by contacting your U.S. Senators—the people who represent your state in Congress and vote on federal laws.

But if no one ever taught you how? This guide is for you.

Step 1: Find Out Who Your Senators Are

Each state has two U.S. Senators. You don’t need to know their names ahead of time.

1. Go to https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm

2. Scroll down to “Choose a State” and pick your state from the list.

3. You’ll see the names of your two senators. Each name links to their personal Senate website.

Step 2: Find Their Contact Page

Click on each senator’s name to go to their website.

Look for a link that says something like “Contact” or “Email Me.”

Sometimes it’s at the top of the page. Other times you might have to scroll down.

Most sites offer:

• An email form (where you fill in your name, address, and message)
• A phone number
• A mailing address

Step 3: Know What to Say

You don’t have to be fancy. Just be honest, brief, and say you are a constituent (someone who lives in their state).

You can say:

“Hi, my name is [your name], and I live in [your city or ZIP code]. I’m writing to ask Senator [Name] to support [or oppose] [the issue]. This issue is important to me because [reason, if you want to share]. Thank you for your time.”

Tip: If you’re autistic or disabled, you can say so. It helps your senator understand the community they represent.

Calling Instead of Writing?

It’s okay to be nervous. Staff members take messages all day. Some senators have voice mail and you won’t even have to speak to a person directly. You can write down what you want to say and read it to a voice mail recorder or to a staff person. You don’t have to answer questions. Just share your opinion.

Example:

“Hi, I’m [your first name], and I live in [your ZIP code]. I’d like to ask Senator [Name] to vote against [bill or issue]. Thank you.”

Then you can hang up. That’s enough.

It Counts

You may not get a reply, but every message gets logged. Support or opposition gets counted. That means, at minimum, you are casting an opinion vote with your senators. Your Congressional representatives may never read your email or listen to your call, but they are aware of the statistics of what their constituents are saying to them.

(I will say that every time I have written an old fashioned paper letter to any politician at any level of government, I have always gotten a paper letter back, even if it was just a scripted response from a secretary.)

If a senator gets hundreds of messages on one issue, they may or may not act, but they definitely pay attention.

Your voice matters.

You don’t need permission. You don’t need to do it perfectly. You have the right to communicate with the people making decisions about your life. You have the right to tell your senators not to pass a bill that will harm a lot of people, including you, including people you love. You have this right.

Why So Many People Oppose the “One Big Beautiful Bill”

Below are some of the biggest concerns people have about this bill. There are more reasons to oppose this bill, I’ve just chosen some of the major reasons most people are talking about. 

You don’t need to mention them all—just pick the ones that matter most to you and speak from the heart.

Even one sentence to a senator, in your own words, can make a difference.

Access to Healthcare

• The bill slashes Medicaid funding, putting millions of disabled, poor, and elderly people at risk of losing essential care.
• It gives states the power to cut gender-affirming care, reproductive healthcare, and mental health coverage from public insurance plans.
• It removes federal protections for pre-existing conditions.

Taxation & Redistribution of Wealth

• It gives massive tax breaks to the ultra-wealthy and large corporations, while cutting services for ordinary people.
• It proposes taxing disability and Social Security benefits above a certain threshold—treating survival income like luxury income.
• It shifts funding away from schools, housing, and food assistance to increase military and border spending.

Immigration Law

• The bill limits asylum claims, increases deportations, and allows for indefinite detention of migrants—including children.
• It fast-tracks mass surveillance of immigrant communities.
• It ends protections for certain refugee groups and undocumented students.

Disability and Civil Rights

• It weakens the Americans with Disabilities Act by making accessibility “optional” for small businesses.
• It removes funding for federal disability advocacy centers.
• It allows states to impose work requirements on disabled people receiving assistance.

Undermining the Courts and Rule of Law

• The bill includes a provision that would block courts from enforcing rulings against the President or executive branch, even if those rulings find violations of the law.
• This would strip judges of the power to hold federal officials accountable, making legal checks on executive power meaningless.
• It threatens the balance of power between the three branches of government, a core principle of U.S. democracy.
• Critics warn it could let the President act with impunity, even in defiance of the Constitution.

Climate and Environment

• The bill cuts clean energy incentives and eliminates many EPA regulations.
• It expands oil drilling, fracking, and mining operations, including on public lands.
• It removes protections for endangered species and sacred Indigenous sites.

Use What Speaks to You

You don’t need to list all of this. One or two issues, written in your words, is enough.

Speak from your values, your fears, your hopes—whatever moves you to act.

Your senator may never hear from someone quite like you again.

Let them know what matters before they cast their vote.

Traffic Laws Are Not “Everyday Examples of ABA”

Introduction

You’ve probably heard it before: “We all experience ABA every day!” The go-to example? Stopping at a stop sign. Supposedly, we stop because we’ve been conditioned—by tickets or crashes or social pressure—and that’s Applied Behavior Analysis in action. Simple, right?

Except… no.

This tidy analogy shows up everywhere from therapist training programs to parent workshops to casual online debates. It’s trotted out to make ABA seem natural, universal, and harmless. The message is clear: if stopping at a stop sign is ABA, then ABA must be fine.

But that’s not how ABA works.

In this essay, I’m going to take that example for a spin. First, we’ll look at what ABA actually involves. Then we’ll imagine what it would really look like if stopping at stop signs were an example of ABA methods. And finally, we’ll dig into why misusing examples like this doesn’t just muddy the waters—it actively manipulates public understanding in ways that harm autistic people.

Because if following traffic laws is ABA in action, I’m owed a massive backlog of M&Ms. 

What ABA Actually Involves

Applied Behavior Analysis isn’t just any old cause-and-effect learning. It’s a structured, clinical intervention rooted in behaviorist psychology. In practice, ABA relies on clearly defined goals, repeated teaching opportunities (called “discrete trials”), detailed data collection, and carefully managed reinforcement schedules.

If someone’s learning a skill through ABA, it’s not happening by osmosis. There’s a program written for it. There’s an “operationalized” behavior goal—something observable and measurable, like “Will raise hand to request help in 4 out of 5 trials over two consecutive sessions.” There are cues (called SDs), prompts if needed, and a consequence following each attempt: a reward for success or a correction for errors.

The process is deliberate, monitored, and graphed. It’s not just about learning—it’s about shaping behavior through external reinforcement until the target behavior becomes consistent, often without regard for internal motivation, context, or consent.

This isn’t how most people learn to stop at stop signs.

If Stop Signs Were Taught via ABA

Let’s say you really were taught to stop at stop signs through ABA. Here’s how that might look.

First, a behavior analyst would write a program goal:

“Given the visual cue of a red octagonal sign, the learner will bring the vehicle to a full stop behind the white line in 4 out of 5 trials across 3 consecutive sessions, with no more than one verbal prompt.”

You’d begin with structured instruction. A therapist—or in this case, probably your driving instructor—would deliver a discriminative stimulus (SD), like “There’s a stop sign ahead.” If you failed to stop, they’d use a prompt—maybe a verbal reminder like “Brake now,” or a gesture pointing to the pedal. If you did stop (even with a prompt), you’d get a reinforcer: “Great job!” or maybe a tangible reward like a piece of candy.

Every trial would be documented:

• Trial 1: Prompted stop – Partial Physical Prompt – Reinforced

• Trial 2: Independent stop – Reinforced

• Trial 3: No stop – Error correction procedure initiated

Your instructor would collect data for each discrete trial, likely on a clipboard balanced on their knee. They’d graph your performance over time to determine whether the behavior was increasing, whether prompts could be faded, and whether the skill was generalizing across different intersections.

Only after weeks of consistent data showing mastery would the stopping behavior be considered “acquired.”

At no point would you be expected to just get it because of logic, empathy, social norms, or internal motivation. That’s not how ABA works.

Why the Analogy Fails

So why do people keep saying that stopping at a stop sign is an example of everyday ABA?

Because it sounds good. It sounds simple. It reassures nervous parents and skeptical stakeholders that ABA is nothing to fear—just common sense in action.

But here’s the problem: it isn’t true.

Stopping at a stop sign is rule-governed behavior, not behavior shaped through operant conditioning. Most people stop at stop signs not because they were systematically reinforced over hundreds of discrete trials, but because they were told, “This is the law,” maybe saw a diagram in a driver’s manual, and internalized the rule. 

They’ve likely seen a car crash—on the road, on the news, or in a driver’s ed video—and they understand the stakes without needing to personally experience any kind of aversive. We stop because we know it’s expected, because it would piss other drivers off if we didn’t, because we don’t want to get stopped by the police, and because we’ve absorbed the potential consequences both intellectually and viscerally. That’s not ABA. That’s culture, cognition, and social learning.

ABA is built on observable behaviors, external rewards, and structured repetition. It’s not a casual consequence you heard about once and filed away in your mind—it’s a targeted intervention, complete with data sheets and reinforcer hierarchies.

When people use the stop sign analogy, they collapse all of that complexity into a feel-good metaphor. It’s not just misleading—it’s strategically misleading.

The Harm of Misleading Normalization

When people claim that stopping at a stop sign is “just like ABA,” it’s not an innocent misunderstanding. It’s a deliberate rhetorical move—a way of normalizing a highly structured and often coercive intervention by comparing it to everyday life.

This kind of sleight-of-hand is designed to build trust where skepticism is warranted. It encourages parents to accept ABA without asking hard questions. It assures policymakers and funders that what they’re supporting is just good, common-sense learning. And it silences autistic people who raise concerns, because if “everyone experiences ABA,” then our objections must be overblown.

But autistic people don’t object to rules. We object to being subjected to intense, dehumanizing compliance training disguised as care. We object to interventions that treat our natural communication, movement, and affect as problems to be corrected. We object to being turned into data points in someone else’s binder.

By flattening the distinction between real-life learning and structured behavioral intervention, these analogies obscure power, consent, and the actual lived experience of being on the receiving end of ABA. Stories of “Stop Sign ABA” are not harmless—they’re manipulative. And they serve the system, not the person.

Conclusion

Applied Behavior Analysis is a specific, technical method. It’s not a vibe. It’s not a metaphor. And it’s not the reason you know how to drive.

When people reach for easy analogies to defend ABA, they’re not simplifying—they’re obscuring. They’re smoothing over the hard edges of a controversial practice and offering comfort at the expense of truth. But autistic people deserve better than rhetorical sugar-coating. We deserve honesty, accuracy, and respect for the reality of our lived experiences.

So the next time someone tells you that stopping at a stop sign is ABA in action, ask them for your operational goal, your discrete trial data, and the thousands of M&Ms you’re owed for a lifetime of lawful driving. Better yet, tell them: If that’s ABA, then I’m Pavlov’s dog.

In the spring of 2025, developmental psychologist Steven K. Kapp published a bold new paper in Frontiers in Integrative Neuroscience. Kapp’s paper is part of a growing shift in how science understands autism. Drawing from decades of clinical studies, brain research, and listening to lived Autistic experience, Kapp shows that autism isn’t mainly about social or behavioral differences. Instead, he describes it as a lifelong pattern of sensory–movement divergence—something that begins at birth, if not earlier, and shapes development from the start.¹ And while his theory is backed by cutting-edge research, it echoes something many Autistic people have been saying for years: autism isn’t something that happens to one—it’s something one is.

Introduction

In framing autism this way, Kapp challenges one of the most entrenched and harmful narratives in modern medical and political discourse: the idea that autism must be caused by something—an injury, a toxin, a loss—and therefore, potentially, something that can be prevented or cured. This cause/cure framework fuels whole industries of speculative research, early intervention programs, and grief-driven advocacy from parents. Each one builds on the hope that if we could just find the moment things went wrong, we might somehow ‘undo the damage’.

But as Kapp demonstrates, this model misreads both the science and the Autistic experience. What may appear to others as regression is, in many cases, better understood as a mismatch between developmental expectations and underlying sensory–movement differences—not a genuine loss of skills. The search for a single cause rests on this flawed premise, overlooking how autism emerges from a distinctive developmental trajectory that begins at or before birth.²

I want to set Kapp’s work into its larger context, into a wider reflection on what it means to understand autism not as an error to fix, but as a form of embodiment with its own logic, value, and place in the world. Not only is autism not caused by a singular event or exposure, it is not a problem to be solved at all. Autism is an expression of human biodiversity—an essential facet of how the nervous system can be configured. Drawing on decades of research, from fetal brain imaging to placental gene expression studies, let’s look at the evidence for autism’s prenatal and intrinsic nature. We will also explore the cultural costs of the cause/cure paradigm, and consider what it might mean to instead see autism as a form of embodied difference that strengthens the collective—neither puzzle nor pathology, but presence.

The Cause/Cure Framework: Looking for Something That Was Never Lost

For decades, many researchers and advocates have poured time and money into trying to figure out what causes autism. Was it something in the water? A vaccine? A stressful pregnancy? A difficult birth? The questions have shifted slightly with each generation, but the impulse remains the same: to look for something that went wrong, and to imagine that if we could only name it, we could fix it. This is the heart of what we might call the cause/cure framework—the belief that autism is a deviation from the norm caused by something external, something preventable, something repairable.

This framework didn’t emerge in a vacuum. It developed alongside medical models of disability that define difference as deficit, and it has been reinforced by systems that reward linear success stories: the heroic scientist, the cured child, the relieved parent. Under this model, any evidence that autism might be present from birth—or that it might not be a tragedy at all—is quietly sidelined.

It’s not hard to see why this idea gained traction. When a child’s development starts to diverge from what doctors or educators expect, it’s common for parents to ask: what changed? What happened? But the question itself assumes there was a change. It assumes there was a time before autism—some “normal” state that was lost. As Kapp points out, this assumption leads to misinterpretations of developmental difference as decline.³ A child who stops speaking in sentences may not be losing ability at all—they may be overwhelmed, dysregulated, or shifting how they communicate. But through the lens of regression, that shift gets framed as damage. And damage, of course, demands a cause.

From this point, it’s a short leap to desperate searches for culprits—vaccines, pollutants, parenting styles—and a long trail of disproven theories. A large meta-analysis covering more than 1.2 million children found no evidence linking autism to vaccines of any kind.⁴ Other studies have ruled out thimerosal, MMR, and cumulative antigen load.⁵ Still, the belief persists. Once a framework takes root—especially one built on fear and urgency—it becomes hard to unseat, even when the evidence says otherwise.

But the science does say otherwise. Over and over again, studies show that autism is not something that suddenly appears or takes hold after a triggering event. It is something that begins at—or before—birth, and unfolds over time.

Always Been There: What the Science Actually Shows

If autism isn’t caused by something going wrong, then what is it? For researchers like Kapp who aren’t invested in the cure story and can look with fresh eyes, the answer has been quietly unfolding for decades. Study after study suggests the same thing: that autism is a form of neurodevelopmental difference that begins before and/or during gestation—long before any vaccines, dietary exposures, or parenting styles could possibly play a role.

Some of the clearest evidence comes from studies of infant brain development. In a landmark longitudinal study, researchers used MRI scans to track infants who had an older autistic sibling and therefore had a higher chance of being autistic themselves. They found that by 6 to 12 months of age—well before any child had been diagnosed—those who would go on to receive an autism diagnosis already showed differences in brain growth, especially in how the surface of the brain was expanding over time.⁶ By the time they turned two, these same children also showed differences in brain volume. These changes weren’t reactions to the outside world. They were part of the developmental process itself.

Other studies have found differences even earlier. At six months old, some autistic babies have more cerebrospinal fluid around their brains than their non-autistic peers.⁷ In another study, researchers reviewing old home videos noticed subtle movement differences—like asymmetrical crawling or delayed righting reflexes—in babies who would later be diagnosed with autism. These differences were visible within the first months of life, sometimes even in the first days.⁸

But perhaps most striking are the studies looking at what’s happening before birth. Researchers examining placental tissue have found patterns of gene expression and epigenetic differences—small changes in how genes are regulated—that appear more often in children who go on to be diagnosed with autism.⁹ These differences aren’t caused by parenting or trauma. They are part of how a nervous system takes shape.

None of these findings point to a single cause, and none of them are predictive on their own. What they do offer is a consistent picture: that autism is not something that suddenly arrives. It’s a way a body and brain grow. A way a person comes into being.

The Real Cost of Searching for a Cure

When we spend our energy trying to figure out what causes autism—or how to prevent it—we miss the opportunity to understand what autism actually is. And more than that, we risk causing harm. The cause/cure framework doesn’t just steer science down unproductive paths. It shapes how people talk about autism, how children are treated, and how Autistic people come to see themselves.

Many Autistic adults grew up hearing that they were puzzles to solve or tragedies to grieve. Some were told directly, while others absorbed it from media, professionals, or the quiet tension in their families. Even when the language was gentle, the message was clear: something had gone wrong. That kind of framing leaves marks. It affects self-esteem, mental health, and the ability to build an identity rooted in self-respect.¹⁰

For parents, too, the promise of a cure can be a trap. It offers hope—but at a cost. When parents are told that their child’s autism is the result of something they did—or didn’t do—it often leads to guilt, grief, and a constant chase for answers. That chase can become consuming. Instead of getting support for the family you have, you’re encouraged to keep searching for the child you think you lost. This cycle has been reinforced by theories of “regression” that treat natural shifts in development as signs of loss or failure, fueling anxiety and disorientation instead of clarity.¹¹

And for society as a whole, the cost is collective. When we treat autism as a problem to fix, we pour resources into prevention instead of support. We center fear instead of understanding. We create systems that reward compliance, not communication—and then we call it progress when someone learns to mask, destroying their own mental health in the process.¹²

Kapp’s work helps us pause that pattern. It invites us to step back and see autism not as something that needs solving, but as something that needs space. What would it mean to stop searching for what went wrong—and start creating conditions where Autistic people can thrive as they are?

Diversity: What Systems Need to Thrive

If we step back from the fear-based narratives about autism, we can begin to ask a different kind of question. Not how do we prevent this, but what do we lose when we try? The answer: more than we can afford.

Every living system depends on variation. In ecosystems, biodiversity protects against collapse. In immune systems, diversity helps the body respond to new threats. Even in agriculture, planting one single crop across a wide area invites disaster. Diversity isn’t noise—it’s resilience.

The same is true for human minds. The neurodiversity paradigm, developed by Autistic scholars and self-advocates,¹³ invites us to see neurological variation not as a flaw, but as a natural and vital part of human complexity. Just as other systems need many kinds of organisms to adapt to different niches, human culture needs many kinds of minds to navigate an unpredictable world. Monocultures are fragile. Mixed systems survive and thrive.

Autism brings gifts too often uncelebrated: pattern recognition, unconventional insight, sensory attunement, deep honesty, nonlinear processing.¹⁴ These aren’t deficits, though each has been framed as a flaw by various researchers, practitioners, and educators. They are traits shaped by a different kind of nervous system—one that, given the right conditions, offers enormous value (value far deeper and more meaningful than surface calculations like capitalistic productivity) not despite differences, but because of them.

When we pathologize those differences—trying to make every brain conform to a single standard of communication, behavior, or productivity—we lose what makes the social system strong. We might make it more efficient, by starving out people who can’t fit in (then blaming them for suffering.) But that makes the system more rigid and brittle, harming people who can solve problems society doesn’t yet acknowledge it has.

Kapp Heralds a Different Kind of Future

Steven Kapp’s work¹⁵ doesn’t just challenge a flawed idea. It offers a new foundation.

Instead of asking how to prevent autism, Kapp asks how we can better understand the kind of embodiment autism represents. Instead of looking for what went wrong, he invites us to notice what’s already here: a different developmental path, shaped by sensory–movement patterns that begin before words, before diagnosis, before the world starts demanding performance. A body moving through space in its own rhythm. A nervous system tuned to signals others might miss. A way of being that is not broken, just less common.

This is the future we’re being asked to imagine—not one where autism is eliminated, but one where it’s understood. One where support is shaped to fit the person, not the other way around. One where Autistic people are not just accommodated, but trusted. Not fixed, but followed.

And perhaps most importantly, a future where autism is not seen as a mystery to solve or a crisis to avert—but as one of many ways a human life can unfold.

Footnotes

1. Kapp, S. K. (2025). Sensory–movement underpinnings of lifelong neurodivergence: Getting a grip on autism. Frontiers in Integrative Neuroscience, 19, 1489322. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnint.2025.1489322 ↩︎
2. Ibid., see “Autistic regression or autistic resilience?” and “Conceptual and empirical foundations of sensory–movement differences.” ↩︎
3. Ibid. ↩︎
4. Taylor, L. E., Swerdfeger, A. L., & Eslick, G. D. (2014). Vaccines are not associated with autism: An evidence-based meta-analysis of case-control and cohort studies. Vaccine, 32(29), 3623–3629. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24814559
   ↩︎
5. DeStefano, F., Price, C. S., & Weintraub, E. S. (2013). Increasing exposure to antibody-stimulating proteins and polysaccharides in vaccines is not associated with risk of autism. The Journal of Pediatrics, 163(2), 561–567.e1. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/23472704 ↩︎
6. Hazlett, H. C., et al. (2017). Early brain development in infants at high risk for autism spectrum disorder. Nature, 542(7641), 348–351. https://www.nature.com/articles/nature21369 ↩︎
7. Shen, M. D., et al. (2017). Increased extra-axial cerebrospinal fluid in high-risk infants who later develop autism. Biological Psychiatry, 82(3), 186–193. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28392081 ↩︎
8. Teitelbaum, P., et al. (1998). Movement analysis in infancy may be useful for early diagnosis of autism. PNAS, 95(23), 13982–13987. ↩︎
9. Zhu, Y., et al. (2022). Placental epigenetics and neurodevelopment: Evidence from methylation changes associated with autism. Genome Biology, 23, 105. https://genomebiology.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13059-022-02613-1 ↩︎
10. Kapp, S. K., Gillespie-Lynch, K., Sherman, L. E., & Hutman, T. (2013). Deficit, difference, or both? Autism and neurodiversity. Developmental Psychology, 49(1), 59–71. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0028353 ↩︎
11. Ozonoff, S., & Iosif, A.-M. (2019). Changing conceptualizations of regression: What do recent findings mean for autism research? Neuropsychology Review, 29(2), 270–278. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11065-019-09411-1 ↩︎
12. Cage, E., Di Monaco, J., & Newell, V. (2018). Experiences of autism acceptance and mental health in autistic adults. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 48, 473–484. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3342-7; Hull, L., Mandy, W., Petrides, K. V., et al. (2017). “Putting on My Best Normal”: Social camouflaging in adults with autism spectrum conditions. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 47, 2519–2534. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3166-5 ↩︎
13. Walker, N. (2021). Neuroqueer Heresies: Notes on the Neurodiversity Paradigm, Autistic Empowerment, and Postnormal Possibilities. Autonomous Press. ↩︎
14. Mottron, L. (2021). A radical change in our autism research strategy is needed: Back to prototypes. Autism Research, 14(11), 2213–2220. https://doi.org/10.1002/aur.2599
    ↩︎
15. Kapp, S. K. (2025). Sensory–movement underpinnings of lifelong neurodivergence: Getting a grip on autism. Frontiers in Integrative Neuroscience, 19, 1489322. ↩︎

Works Cited

Cage, E., Di Monaco, J., & Newell, V. (2018). Experiences of autism acceptance and mental health in autistic adults. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 48, 473–484. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3342-7

DeStefano, F., Price, C. S., & Weintraub, E. S. (2013). Increasing exposure to antibody-stimulating proteins and polysaccharides in vaccines is not associated with risk of autism. The Journal of Pediatrics, 163(2), 561–567.e1. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/23472704

Hazlett, H. C., et al. (2017). Early brain development in infants at high risk for autism spectrum disorder. Nature, 542(7641), 348–351. https://www.nature.com/articles/nature21369

Hull, L., Mandy, W., Petrides, K. V., et al. (2017). “Putting on My Best Normal”: Social camouflaging in adults with autism spectrum conditions. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 47, 2519–2534. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3166-5

Kapp, S. K., Gillespie-Lynch, K., Sherman, L. E., & Hutman, T. (2013). Deficit, difference, or both? Autism and neurodiversity. Developmental Psychology, 49(1), 59–71. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0028353

Kapp, S. K. (2025). Sensory–movement underpinnings of lifelong neurodivergence: Getting a grip on autism. Frontiers in Integrative Neuroscience, 19, 1489322. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnint.2025.1489322

Mottron, L. (2021). A radical change in our autism research strategy is needed: Back to prototypes. Autism Research, 14(11), 2213–2220. https://doi.org/10.1002/aur.2599

Ozonoff, S., & Iosif, A.-M. (2019). Changing conceptualizations of regression: What do recent findings mean for autism research? Neuropsychology Review, 29(2), 270–278. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11065-019-09411-1

Shen, M. D., et al. (2017). Increased extra-axial cerebrospinal fluid in high-risk infants who later develop autism. Biological Psychiatry, 82(3), 186–193. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28392081

Taylor, L. E., Swerdfeger, A. L., & Eslick, G. D. (2014). Vaccines are not associated with autism: An evidence-based meta-analysis of case-control and cohort studies. Vaccine, 32(29), 3623–3629. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24814559

Teitelbaum, P., et al. (1998). Movement analysis in infancy may be useful for early diagnosis of autism. PNAS, 95(23), 13982–13987.

Walker, N. (2021). Neuroqueer Heresies: Notes on the Neurodiversity Paradigm, Autistic Empowerment, and Postnormal Possibilities. Autonomous Press.

Zhu, Y., et al. (2022). Placental epigenetics and neurodevelopment: Evidence from methylation changes associated with autism. Genome Biology, 23, 105. https://genomebiology.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13059-022-02613-1