Imposter Syndrome: Life Behind a Mask
Emmanuel Abua discusses the disabling insecurity of the imposter syndrome all autistics feel when forced to mask and the healing power of solidarity of shared experiences among other autistics.
Emmanuel Abua discusses the disabling insecurity of the imposter syndrome all autistics feel when forced to mask and the healing power of solidarity of shared experiences among other autistics.
I realize that there’s a lot going on right now that doesn’t fit anywhere in my comfort zone. It has made me outrageously uncomfortable. Through
Self-hate is a tricky thing to talk about for me. When I look back and realize how long I have sat with that resentment towards myself, it’s a wonder that I have held it together as long as I have. I am continuously appreciative of the autistic community and their continued support. Without it, I don’t think I would have made it this far.
Emmanuel, a Black autistic man, notices the patterns present in the aftermath of every Black life lost to police brutality.
A Black autistic man reflects on the murder of George Floyd, a Black man who was murdered by police for shopping.
Emmanuel is tired of the illusion of democracy, of the choiceless elections, and of the corporate bailouts that always favor the wealthy.
It is a theme I have noticed too often in governments, political parties, and corporations: that a voice and their suffering only matter to the powerful when the ends justify the means or fit a narrative that suits them.
Corona virus has forced us to sit alone with our thoughts, which is a terrifying prospect for many of us.
My family is aware of my autism. It doesn’t mean that they accept it.
I was aware of my autism. It didn’t mean that I accepted it.
Society is aware of autism. It doesn’t equal acceptance in society.
For Emmanuel, late diagnosis didn’t provide the validating relief that it did for many people, and the journey to acceptance was not a straight path.
Emmanuel Abua discusses the disabling insecurity of the imposter syndrome all autistics feel when forced to mask and the healing power of solidarity of shared experiences among other autistics.
I realize that there’s a lot going on right now that doesn’t fit anywhere in my comfort zone. It has made me outrageously uncomfortable. Through
Self-hate is a tricky thing to talk about for me. When I look back and realize how long I have sat with that resentment towards myself, it’s a wonder that I have held it together as long as I have. I am continuously appreciative of the autistic community and their continued support. Without it, I don’t think I would have made it this far.
Emmanuel, a Black autistic man, notices the patterns present in the aftermath of every Black life lost to police brutality.
A Black autistic man reflects on the murder of George Floyd, a Black man who was murdered by police for shopping.
Emmanuel is tired of the illusion of democracy, of the choiceless elections, and of the corporate bailouts that always favor the wealthy.
It is a theme I have noticed too often in governments, political parties, and corporations: that a voice and their suffering only matter to the powerful when the ends justify the means or fit a narrative that suits them.
Corona virus has forced us to sit alone with our thoughts, which is a terrifying prospect for many of us.
My family is aware of my autism. It doesn’t mean that they accept it.
I was aware of my autism. It didn’t mean that I accepted it.
Society is aware of autism. It doesn’t equal acceptance in society.
For Emmanuel, late diagnosis didn’t provide the validating relief that it did for many people, and the journey to acceptance was not a straight path.
Emmanuel Abua discusses the disabling insecurity of the imposter syndrome all autistics feel when forced to mask and the healing power of solidarity of shared experiences among other autistics.
I realize that there’s a lot going on right now that doesn’t fit anywhere in my comfort zone. It has made me outrageously uncomfortable. Through
Self-hate is a tricky thing to talk about for me. When I look back and realize how long I have sat with that resentment towards myself, it’s a wonder that I have held it together as long as I have. I am continuously appreciative of the autistic community and their continued support. Without it, I don’t think I would have made it this far.
Emmanuel, a Black autistic man, notices the patterns present in the aftermath of every Black life lost to police brutality.
A Black autistic man reflects on the murder of George Floyd, a Black man who was murdered by police for shopping.
Emmanuel is tired of the illusion of democracy, of the choiceless elections, and of the corporate bailouts that always favor the wealthy.
It is a theme I have noticed too often in governments, political parties, and corporations: that a voice and their suffering only matter to the powerful when the ends justify the means or fit a narrative that suits them.
Corona virus has forced us to sit alone with our thoughts, which is a terrifying prospect for many of us.
My family is aware of my autism. It doesn’t mean that they accept it.
I was aware of my autism. It didn’t mean that I accepted it.
Society is aware of autism. It doesn’t equal acceptance in society.
For Emmanuel, late diagnosis didn’t provide the validating relief that it did for many people, and the journey to acceptance was not a straight path.
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