MYTH: Autistics can’t make eye contact.

REALITY: Most of us can and do…but we’d rather not.

Most Autistics can and do make eye contact. We learn at a young age that eye contact is an important part of allistic culture and that there are consequences for us if we fail to meet that expectation. When we don’t make eye contact, people may accuse us of lying, not listening, not caring, or being timid, when in fact, for us, eye contact is uncomfortable—and sometimes painful.

It’s worth noting that Autistics don’t always avert our eyes, sometimes we make intense, unyielding eye contact. One reason for this is because it’s not intuitive for us, so we don’t know how long we’re supposed to hold a person’s gaze. We’re told, “It’s important to make eye contact,” so we do—all the eye contact you can take!

But, for the most part, we find ways to mask our eye-contact aversion in order to not: be accused of lying (again), get fired (again), or get ghosted by a new friend (again). Personally, I (and many others), used to research ways to make eye contact and found webpages full of “tips,” that I’d use to mask my Autistic traits. Tips that basically require so much thinking and focus, that I missed out on what was actually being said.

As part of my unmasking process, I started wearing sensory supports in public. I am extremely sensitive to light, so for me, sunglasses and a hat are my “must have” aids (even then, florescent lighting is still uncomfortable and distracting), and I also often use ear buds or ear plugs too, depending on the situation. I had hoped that using supports would reduce my distress in public spaces, but what I didn’t expect, is how free I would feel with my eyes shielded behind dark lenses. Suddenly, I didn’t have to do eye-contact-calculus—I could actually stare at a neutral spot and listen! Everyone takes their sunglasses off inside, so I had simply parroted the action. I didn’t know that I could just…keep wearing them.

Now, I wear sunglasses at all times in public and let my eyes do whatever they want. I am able to keep up with conversation better, listen more deeply, and feel a lot less self-conscious. Sure, strangers at Marshall’s feel comfortable asking me questions like, “Going to the beach?” but I also get a lot of compliments on my hats, so I think it evens out.

So why don’t I like eye contact? I’m not shy or distracted, I have a hyperconnected autistic brain with more synapses than an allistic brain. My sensory sensitivities have been measured at four standard deviations outside of the norm. Plus, allistic brains tune out the vast majority of the sensory inputs in the environment—mine does not. Your expressive face—and especially your eyes—is like a sensory wind tunnel. I enjoy looking at people’s eyes in pictures and film, but the real thing is…really intense and a bit painful—similar to looking into a bright strobe light. It’s like a powerful data stream coming at me, which maybe would be more tolerable if I could properly examine the information instead of having it chaotically thrown at me, but when I do, people get weirded out by the intensity (which is another big reason we might stare into your eyes—we’re trying to make sense of the data). Autistics have a lot of different experiences of eye contact, but I’ve only met one that was like, “Yeah, it’s whatever I guess.” One.

MRIs have shown that eye contact is distressing for us, and that is why we refrain.  The scans show that it’s not (as people mistakenly believe) a lack of interest or a lack of listening, but rather a way to avoid a very real overwhelming sensory experience. And yet, allistics continue to spread the idea that Autistics should be trained to make eye-contact anyway (probably the same people who then blame us for the meltdowns and burnouts we experience due to overwhelm). What doesn’t seem to matter to them is if we are comfortable enough to be able to deeply listen and empathize—they just want it to look like their expectation of what listening and empathizing “should” be, so that they can feel more comfortable. From my perspective, it's the epitome of allistic culture: valuing how something looks over how it feels—and Autistic culture does not share that value.

So, for me, sitting across from my wife at a fancy dinner table isn’t intimate—it’s uncomfortable. What I do find intimate is sitting side-by-side and holding hands on our comfy sofa, in a quiet park, or on a bench at a museum. And that’s okay! Hyper-empathy allows me to feel her and her emotions, and co-regulation means that (as I put it) my cells feel differently around her—which are both deep forms of non-verbal communication. Autistic culture doesn’t value eye contact, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t value connection and other forms of nonverbal communication—it’s just different.

It’s important to know that eye-contact is not a “natural” part of socializing. There are many other cultures around the world that view eye-contact as disrespectful, rude, or shameful. It is not a social necessity like many white-centric cultures make it out to be (again demonstrating how colonialist ableism is). The reality is, there is nothing wrong with not enjoying staring into another person’s moist organ data streams while trying to maintain a conversation. Find what works for you, and then let yourself do it—this is YOUR life, live it YOUR way.

Learn How to Unmask as an Autistic.