I’ve spent a lot of time in the five years since being diagnosed with ADHD thinking about masking, and how I might consciously or unconsciously choose to modify my behaviour in order to be more socially acceptable. Lately, I’ve noticed a desire and a tendency to put less effort into this, though it feels risky and exposing to do so. At a certain point in the life of many neurodivergent people, especially those diagnosed later in life, the mask begins to slip, perhaps because we no longer have the capacity to spend energy on maintaining it, or because we choose to take it off. It’s interesting to look at how this is received in different contexts – the world is changing, and our understanding of different neurotypes is developing quickly, even though this feels like something that’s still in its infancy. In some situations, people are accepting of, and accustomed to unusual communication styles, movements, ways of thinking and requests for adjustments. In others, we might be judged more harshly (like the time someone on a training course told me that nobody will ever take me seriously if I continue to move my hands like that when I talk). Masking, or toning ourselves down in order to fit in or be ‘taken seriously’ is more about others’ comfort than the needs of the person wearing the mask. Sure, it might stem from a deep seated need to belong (or a less deep but equally crucial need to be employable). But holding back our need to manage our nervous systems and energy levels, admit that we’ve forgotten someone’s name, bow out of small talk, zone out or follow a mental tangent is largely about managing others’ comfort. We might try not to do something because we’ve learned that it’s received as impolite or thoughtless – a classic example of this being the tendency to relate to others by sharing our own equivalent story when someone shares an experience. It might be read as one-upmanship or self-centredness, rather than a genuine attempt to connect. This is an example of what has been referred to in recent years as the ‘double empathy problem’. Essentially, the neurodivergent and neurotypical person in this scenario might be trying to connect with each other in different ways, but we’ve tended to locate the ‘problem’ within the neurodivergent person. It might be assumed that an Autistic person is less capable of empathy, while in fact a lack of understanding exists between people who have different ways of mentalising and communicating. Since neurodivergence is generally a pathologised and ‘othered’ identity, there is often pressure to conform to social conventions that might serve to make others more comfortable. There are many ways in which neurotypical people might experience pressure to mask, adapt and suppress instinctive behaviours or needs in order to maintain a sense of social cohesion or ‘civility’.
During these last few years, I’ve also become increasingly aware of a link between this phenomenon and the idea of ‘white politeness’. Being ‘civilised’ was (and in so many ways, continues to be) a concept weaponised in colonialism, positioning white European societies as morally, intellectually and culturally superior to the global majority. This offered apparent justification for the violent and dehumanising practices carried out by colonisers, and assumed anything outside of the cultural mores of Britain and other northern European countries at the time to be ‘barbaric’ and in need of control and assimilation. Civility during the heyday of the British Empire was inextricably linked with a hierarchical, monarchist social structure in which those with inherited wealth and power separated themselves from the lower classes in part via a system of ‘good manners’ that involved indirect communication, repressing emotions and bodily sensations, presenting ‘modestly’ and avoidance of conflict. We can still see the legacy of this in the ways in which politeness is sometimes weaponised and used as a way to wield power – for example, the continuing positioning of Black women who are communicating directly or expressing an emotion as ‘aggressive’. This form of bias and prejudice is something I’ve been aware of for a long time, but I was less aware of how a culture of ‘white politeness’ was shaping some of the spaces I inhabit until it was pointed out to me. That’s not unusual - it’s so often the case that we can’t see what we’re in while we’re in it, and also a feature of privilege to not have to notice something if it’s not obviously disadvantaging us. Even in some spaces where care and communication skills are highly valued, I started to notice the slightly awkward ways that we unconsciously attempt to avoid discomfort. We might start to put masks on if things are getting a little emotional, heated or weird. We’ll often use small talk, humour or subject changes to take the edge off when things threaten to get a little uncomfortable. Even those of us who are well versed in therapy speak and big fans of emotional literacy will lean on our learned social crutches when something threatens the relative politeness of the space sometimes. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with this, if it’s a conscious choice that fits with the social contract of the space – maybe we’re in this space together as a way to have some respite from big feelings, or maybe it’s a workplace and there are limited opportunities to fully unmask, process our emotions and process what’s unsaid in the space. But what I’m finding less helpful is the unconscious post-colonial hangover that has us subtly policing our own and others’ behaviours, bodies and words in order to maintain a sense of decorum. There may be a time and a place for showing up in all of our flawed, messy, noisy glory, but if we haven’t found enough of these times and places, it’s likely that our repressed emotions, sensations, movements etc. will cause us harm in some way, whether we realise it or not.
There’s also the impact of all of this on our ability to communicate with courage and integrity. Growing up in cultures (whether family, community, country or all of the above) that prioritise immediate comfort over voicing dissent, setting boundaries and sitting with difficult feelings has the potential to push us towards avoidant, people pleasing and incongruent behaviours and communication styles. Avoiding conversations and situations that might involve challenge, conflicting needs, awkwardness or inconvenience is only likely to bring short term gain, while problems go unaddressed and unmet needs grow into resentments over time. It feels very familiar to me to provide facilitation in workplaces that prioritise a veneer of ‘niceness’ over tackling the far less pleasant challenges that are festering beneath the surface because it’s so difficult and not in keeping with a ‘nice’ working culture to address them. Employees who were grappling with how to raise their concerns and struggles in these situations have told me how scary it can be to consider speaking up in an environment that has become profoundly silencing. This is a direct example of a culture of politeness and ‘civility’ preventing issues from being addressed and upholding a hierarchical structure where people who aren’t in charge may not feel safe to share feedback, challenge, concerns or even ideas that deviate from the norm. This is something I find concerning when I see signs of it, and I’m always keen to unpack the assumptions, beliefs and fears that contribute to this culture. And in the spirit of honest communication, I’ll level with you… I’m not here to criticise or shame anyone who has (intentionally or otherwise) contributed to a culture like this, partly because I don’t think that would be particularly useful, and partly because my own tendency is towards conflict avoidance and over-adapting in order to maintain a sense of belonging. This is something that I’ve spent years working on, and will likely continue to work on for the rest of my life – I don’t have it all figured out by any means. I notice at times an inner conflict between my learned defence mechanisms (‘avoid conflict, rejection and upsetting others at all costs’) and the communication style that I value and need (direct, open, congruent, assumes a healthy balance of care for self and care for others). I believe that moving beyond repressive cultures of ‘politeness’ and towards deeper connections and more equitable communities starts with curiosity and critical thinking. Maybe it’s a feature of my particular type of neurodivergence, but I’m grateful to have never lost the instinct to ask ‘but why?’ that we tend to associate with exhaustingly inquisitive toddlers. I find social conventions and unspoken rules fascinating. I can’t help pondering where they came from, what purpose they serve, whether we’re finding them helpful, and what else might be possible if we’re not. Taking space to examine the cultural norms, communication preferences and expectations within a community might yield some rich insights and opportunities about how different people are supported, excluded, silenced or relatively unaffected by them. And the prospect of examining this might in itself provoke anxiety – there’s a distinct possibility that, in spite of our best efforts to prevent conflict and offence, we will discover ways in which avoiding discomfort is inadvertently causing harm. It seems important here to both take our capacity to cause harm seriously, and at the same time, hold it lightly. If we find out that we have contributed to someone else’s pain or exclusion, we can take the gift of that learning and apply it in future, rather than entering a shame spiral that seems to threaten our sense of identity and values. Sometimes that’s easier said than done - I’m sure most of us have been horrified at some point to discover that our well intentioned words, actions or contribution to a wider culture have been harmful. But getting comfortable with the short term discomfort that might arise from sharing or receiving challenges, needs, boundaries, concerns and emotions is likely to offer longer term gains. And a culture of compassionate honesty, valuing each other’s contributions and welcoming an array of different feelings and perspectives seems to me to be a great hangover cure for the last vestiges of Empire and its restrictive grip on the human experience.