Advice for Parents of Autistic Children (From an Autistic Adult)
Introduction `
Autism acceptance month, autism awareness month, autism everything month. No matter what it’s called, April is an important month for autistic people like me. It’s supposed to put a spotlight on autistic voices.
But from what I’ve seen, at least in South Carolina, that doesn’t always happen.
I see workshops, events, conferences, and parades about autism that are led by parents, care providers, or doctors. And of course, they usually include the silly puzzle piece symbol to represent autism. I’ll get into why that symbol is disliked in our community later on. It also doesn’t help that there are nonprofits focused on autism with boards of directors that don’t have a single autistic voice on them.
That kind of disconnect is frustrating.
Discussions about autism need to include autistic people. Especially if those programs are meant to support autistic children. You need perspectives from people who have actually lived it. Otherwise, how can parents properly support their autistic child if most of the information they are getting comes from people who don’t actually live with autism? It also doesn’t help that a lot of advice online is either bad, outdated, or both.
So with that in mind, I want to offer something simple. Advice to parents of autistic children, from someone who has been that child.
1. Don’t be a helicopter, be a trampoline
You’ve probably heard the phrase “helicopter parent.” It refers to parents who are overly involved and controlling in every part of their child’s life. They manage schedules, make decisions for them, or micromanage anything that isn’t fully “figured out.”
With autistic children, I’ve noticed this can sometimes become even more intense.
I remember seeing a situation where a parent of a teenager with autism controlled whether he could learn to drive or what job he should take. The teenager was very clear that he wanted to learn how to drive and work at a specific place near where he lived. But the parent kept shutting it down because she thought it would be unsafe for him. It wasn’t a conversation. It was decisions being made for him instead of him making the decisions. It was frustrating to watch.
So here is the simple advice I have for families: be a trampoline for your child, not a helicopter.
A helicopter hovers and controls everything from above. A trampoline is stable, but it still lets your child jump, try things, and sometimes fall. And when they do fall, you are still there to help them bounce back up. That’s why I call it a trampoline.
In practice, this means letting your child try things even if you are nervous. It means replacing “you can’t do that” with “let’s figure out how you can try that safely.” It means allowing mistakes without immediately stepping in to prevent them. If they fall, help them recover and try again.
You are there to support your child’s development, not to micromanage it. To use a sports metaphor, you are your child’s best cheerleader, not the referee.
2. Want to help your child to unmask and be confident? Expose them to other autistic people!
If you are unfamiliar with the term masking, it is a strategy where a person hides their true personality or autistic traits, like stimming, to fit in, avoid stigma, or not come across as “weird” in social situations. Autistic people like me often do this, sometimes without even realizing it, just to appear “normal” and not upset others. It happens a lot, and overtime masking can lead to stress, anxiety, burnout, or even a loss of identity. After all, if you keep pretending to be someone you are not just to please others, something has to give, and that usually ends up being your identity.
Masking exists because, in many ways, the world was not built for us. That is why it is important for autistic people to be part of communities where they feel safe being themselves.
My advice for parents is this: if you want your child to start unmasking and build confidence, expose them to other autistic people, or at least other people with disabilities.
One way to do this is by encouraging your child to get involved in spaces that align with their interests. A mistake I see often is parents only looking for autism-specific support groups or clubs. Those can be helpful, but they are not the only option. I was part of an autism club at Clemson during my master’s program that was actually led by autistic students, so I know those spaces can exist and be meaningful.
A more practical approach is to look at places like libraries, schools, comic cons, or bookstores and help your child get involved there. If your child likes anime, encourage them to join or even start an anime club at school.
Trust me when I say this, you will almost always find at least one autistic person in any nerd hobby. Pokémon is a perfect example. So many of my friends who are disabled loved Pokémon that I eventually gave the games a try myself. And yeah, I get it now. Now I love them too, and my favorite Pokémon is Infernape.
3. Please stop using the puzzle symbol
I also want to briefly mention the puzzle piece symbol. A lot of autism awareness material still uses it, but many in the community don’t connect with it, and in some cases actively dislike it (me included). One reason is that it can suggest autism is something that is “missing” or something that needs to be solved, rather than something to understand or accept. That framing just doesn’t reflect reality.
I am not “missing” anything. I am just fine infodumping about Magic the Gathering or video games with my friends, thank you very much.
I might go into this more another time, but I wanted to name it here because symbols shape how people think about autism, even when they don’t realize it.
4. Do not tell your child that they “don’t have a disability” or use functioning labels
I know that parents say “you don’t have a disability” with good intentions. But saying that can create more problems down the line, and it’s also just not true. Think about it this way. If your child believes they don’t have a disability, what reason do they have to explore healthy coping strategies? To understand themselves? To seek out other autistic people? I’ve heard stories of autistic people who didn’t know they had a disability and ended up relying on things like alcohol to get through social situations. That can turn into unhealthy coping over time.
For me, people kept saying I didn’t have a disability, and it hurt my self-confidence. I was left wondering why I felt so “different” from my peers. When I finally understood that I was autistic, it clicked. I wasn’t weird or broken. I was just being myself, and now I had a name for it. At some point, there needs to be an honest conversation. Your child is disabled, and there is nothing wrong with that. Disability is not something that is inherently bad or good. It just is. This also connects to how we talk about autism more broadly, especially when it comes to functioning labels. A lot of the community has been moving away from terms like “high functioning” and “low functioning.” Personally, I don’t like these labels because they give a false impression of what someone is actually experiencing.
For example, I’ve been described as “high functioning,” but there were still struggles I was dealing with that people couldn’t see. The label made it seem like I was doing fine, when in reality, I still needed support.
It also creates this idea that there is some “normal” standard that people are supposed to live up to. That kind of thinking leads right back to masking, which I mentioned earlier.
On the flip side, “low functioning” can be just as harmful. It can make people assume that someone isn’t capable or intelligent, or that they can’t succeed. But there are plenty of people who have been given that label who still have jobs, go to college, and live full lives.
I’ve also been seeing more use of “levels” like Level 1, 2, or 3. Personally, I’m not a fan of that either. It runs into the same issues. Autism is a spectrum, not a box. Trying to sort people into levels still forces them into categories based on what is considered “normal” in society.
In my line of work, I focus more on a person’s support needs rather than labels. What do they need help with? What environments work best for them? That tells you a lot more than any label ever could.
At the end of the day, labels don’t really tell you what a person actually needs. And that’s what matters.
5. Come with the mindset that your child is not you
I’ve seen parents, after finding out their child is autistic, react with fear. Fear about what autism will “do” to their child. Some see it as something tragic or assume their child won’t be able to live a full life. To be blunt, as an autistic person, I find that mindset both insulting and damaging. Not just to the child, but to the parent as well.
I understand that there can be confusion when you first learn your child is autistic. That part is natural. But it’s important to understand this: autism is not something separate from your child. It is part of who they are. You cannot separate the two.
If you hold on to the idea that your child was supposed to be a certain way, or just like you, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. And your child will feel that.
Your child will never be you. They will have different hobbies, different politics, different worldviews, and even different identities. That is not something to fear. It is part of them being their own person.
When I hear parents say they wish their child didn’t have autism, what I hear is that they wish for a different child. And that is a painful thing for any child to grow up around.
I want to share a passage from Jim Sinclair, an autistic advocate who was one of the early voices in the autism community in the 1990s and helped shape early autistic self-advocacy work. They said it better than I could:
“You didn't lose a child to autism. You lost a child because the child you waited for never came into existence. That isn't the fault of the autistic child who does exist, and it shouldn't be our burden. We need and deserve families who can see us and value us for ourselves, not families whose vision of us is obscured by the ghosts of children who never lived. Grieve if you must, for your own lost dreams. But don't mourn for us. We are alive. We are real. And we're here waiting for you.”
Take a second to sit with that.
Your child is here. They are real. And they deserve to be seen and accepted for who they are, not compared to a version of them that never existed.
Conclusion
To wrap this up, I know some of what I’ve written here might feel direct, and some of it might feel uncomfortable or even prickly, especially if it challenges what you’ve believed or heard for years. Understand that I write this with the intention of educating and not beating around the bush.
If you’re a parent reading this, I hope you take it as perspective from someone who has lived it, not as an accusation. Besides, you can’t expect to learn or grow without being uncomfortable.
At the end of the day, my goal is simple: to help parents better understand their autistic children by actually including autistic voices in the conversation.
About Eden
Eden Alon is a disability coach and community facilitator who works with teens and young adults with disabilities to build confidence, communication skills, and independence in everyday life. With a background in communication, advocacy, and nonprofit work, Eden has supported hundreds of people through coaching, workshops, and peer-led programs.
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