When I talk about my life with autism, whether it’s during a lecture, a guest class, a discussion, or in an article, I notice one topic often comes up: the idea of lying versus telling the truth. Some people think that those with autism find it easier to lie and then stubbornly stick to it, while many with autism say that lying is actually hard for them. What others might see as a lie, they often see as just a different perspective or a different way of experiencing reality, which is just as valid and honest.
For me personally, truth is incredibly important. My world isn’t made up of just facts, but also how I understand social signals, how deeply I feel things, and how much I value honesty. Sometimes I see things in black and white but most of the time I place a lot of importance on being open in every part of my life. I find it hard to not be completely honest, even when it might be easier to do so. The fact that others seem to do this more easily fascinates me.
My preference for honesty doesn’t mean I think I’m morally superior because I’m autistic. It’s more about my need for clarity and certainty. If something isn’t clear or reliable to me, I’d rather withdraw. This emphasis on honesty can lead to misunderstandings in a world where things are often not black and white.
One of the biggest challenges for me is social interaction. I remember a time when my straightforwardness—my way of being honest—led to a big misunderstanding. In a meeting, I pointed out that a proposed plan wouldn’t work, based on clear facts. My intention was to be helpful, but it was taken as insensitive and critical. In moments like this, I realize how complex communication can be, and how what I see as honesty can be seen by others as inappropriate. Since then, I’ve been more careful, without hiding behind the idea that ‘communication is a two-way street.’ In the end, I remain responsible for what I contribute, and I recognize the responsibility of others too.
Then there’s my ongoing internal struggle. The desire to be honest versus the desire to be socially acceptable. It’s a balance I’m constantly trying to find. Take the simple example of a friend asking if the color of her new car matches her interior. My first instinct is to be completely honest, even if the answer isn’t positive. But experiences like the team meeting remind me that sometimes a bit of tact is appropriate. Over the years, I’ve become more tactful, but it’s still a difficult balance to strike, even when people say they want an ‘honest opinion.’
I’m often asked how people without autism can support us in being truthful and handling the truth. I think it starts with understanding and accepting different perspectives and not assuming you’re always right. Understand that our need for honesty and directness doesn’t come from a place of insensitivity, but from how we experience the world. Simple changes in communication can make a big difference. Be open to our way of expressing ourselves and try not to judge or misinterpret our words too quickly. Also, value our perspectives. When we share our opinion, even if it seems unusual, understand that it’s our truth, shaped by our unique way of perceiving. An open dialogue, where questions are asked to understand rather than to judge, can help bridge the gap.
I also disagree with the idea that people with autism are only interested in things like math or science because of their quest for truth. I’m fascinated by the complexity of human emotions, relationships, and art. Many people with autism are incredibly creative and have a rich inner world. My experience of truth is also shaped by how I experience the world around me, through art, nature, and music, but also through my confrontations with social norms and the fight for acceptance and inclusion.
I don’t claim that my view of the truth is the only correct one, but I do want to encourage people to take the perspectives of those with autism seriously, rather than dismissing them outright as false or wrong. It’s a complex mix of honesty, perception, and the quest for understanding in a world full of nuances. When someone without understanding of my autistic thinking says I’m lying, it touches the very foundation of trust, something that is very valuable and vulnerable to me.
The European Autist 