I suspect there is an autistic child in my apartment complex. I would like to help guide him, take him under my wing so to speak, but I don’t think my mother will let me. Why? Because my mother likely would think ill of me if I revealed to her I myself was autistic.
The general tone of the autistic parent is, “You’re not autistic enough to speak for my child!” Really? Do you really know me? Were you around when I was a child? Of course not. I barely know of your existence now! You don’t know me! You barely know what your own child is capable of!
And therein is the rift that divides the people of autism.