Masking in Public, Melting Down in Private

People see the calm face, the smile, the “I’m good.”

What they don’t see is the effort behind it — especially when you’re autistic and grew up in a Black/Brown community where “being different” wasn’t always understood.

For most of my life, I learned to hold in the overwhelm until I was somewhere safe. That’s what masking is. And it’s something I’ve done more times than I can count.

Masking: The Performance Nobody Talks About

For me, masking started early — long before I even had the words for it.

As a kid, I was nonverbal until age three. I didn’t always understand how to communicate the same way other kids did. So instead of asking for help, I studied people. I watched how others talked, moved, and reacted. I copied what looked “normal,” even when it felt uncomfortable or draining.

As I got older, masking looked like:

• forcing eye contact even when it physically hurt

• pretending loud places didn’t bother me

• holding in stims so teachers wouldn’t call it “disruptive”

• trying to follow conversations even when my brain was overloaded

• smiling when I wanted to shut down

On the outside, I looked like I was handling things.

Inside, I was fighting to keep myself together.

The Extra Pressure of Being Black/Brown and Autistic

Growing up in our culture, you hear a lot of:

• “Fix your face.”

• “You’re too old to be acting like that.”

• “Stop being dramatic.”

• “Be grateful. You’re fine.”

There wasn’t a lot of room to say “I’m overwhelmed” or “I need a break.”

When you’re autistic and Black/Brown, you learn early that people are watching you differently. So you mask harder. You act “normal” because you don’t want to draw attention or seem “off.”

I always felt like I had to be calm, mature, respectful, collected — not just because of autism, but because of culture. And that type of pressure sticks with you.

The Part People Don’t See: The Private Meltdowns

Masking works…

until it doesn’t.

There were days in school, church, or public places where I held everything in — the noise, the lights, the confusion — and then the moment I got home, it all came out at once.

For me, meltdowns weren’t always loud. Sometimes it was:

• shutting down completely

• sitting in silence

• needing to be alone for hours

• feeling like I just ran a marathon

• trying to recover mentally, emotionally, and physically

People saw the “good behavior.”

They never saw the crashes behind it.

The Mental Drain That Builds Up

Masking every day takes a toll:

• burnout creeps in

• anxiety grows

• you overthink everything you say

• you feel guilty for just being yourself

• you start to feel like two different versions of you

There were times when I didn’t even know which version was the real me — the masked one or the one that finally came out when I was alone.

Learning to Take the Mask Off

I’m still learning this, but I’m getting better at recognizing when I need space, quiet, or understanding.

Unmasking safely for me means:

• being around people who don’t judge my stims

• letting myself leave a crowded room before I’m overwhelmed

• not forcing myself to pretend everything’s okay

• being honest about what autism feels like for me

• understanding that needing breaks doesn’t make me weak

Little by little, I’m learning that my real self isn’t something to hide.

You’re Not Alone — My Story Is Your Story Too

If you’ve ever felt like you’re holding the world together on the outside while falling apart on the inside… I’ve been there.

Masking is survival.

Meltdowns are release.

And sharing our stories — especially as Black and Brown autistic adults — makes others feel seen and understood.

I masked to fit in.

I melted down to recover.

And now, I speak up so someone else doesn’t feel alone.

-Daniel Gillespie

• Masking in Public, 

Trying to find my personality 

Growing up as a young adult 

In high-school 

I was always quiet, reserved, laid back 

But I had some 

Friends who I could talk to 

About anything if I wanted to 

As I was in high school 

I transferred to a half day technical school 

Called ECTS 

Where you can learn about job skills 

And to find a career path 

After you graduate from high school 

I learned a lot from that school 

And Everytime I was there 

My personality was coming out more 

I enjoyed being there 

Learning, always smiling, making jokes and 

Memories that stuck with me

Until graduation 

They loved my personality there I never 

Wanted to be seen

As the “cool” kid

I just wanted to make people laugh 

Because I love to make jokes 

And make people smile 

Then when the bus driver 

Drops me off back to the high-school

At IHS

I get quiet again 

And I remember one of my teachers 

Asking me why does one side of me show

At one place and not the other 

And I remember just looking at him

Shrugged my shoulders and said 

“I don’t know” he told me 

I wasn’t in trouble 

But was just curious about it 

Even though they 

Wanted me to stay another year 

At High-school

I was really ready to graduate at that time

Even though I didn’t know 

What I wanted to do yet 

I still had high hopes of becoming 

The best that I could be 

Since I got older now

And more wiser than I ever was 

My confidence and my personality 

Has been showing more since then 

Sometimes I feel like I don’t have to

Hide myself from people anymore 

Because everyone is different

In their own way 

And people can be judgmental

But that was back then 

And that’s not gonna change 

Who I am now 

• David Gillespie