When many women with autism interact with the world, they often do so with a practiced mask, hiding an essential piece of themselves. Natural reactions are stuffed inside, facial expressions faked—all to hide autistic traits and blend in with the neurotypical mainstream.
But this attempt to fit in often comes with a price: it can be exhausting, a drain on mental health and well-being.
In a support group she leads for autistic women, Boston University researcher Meghan G. Graham frequently hears about the detrimental effects of this phenomenon, known as masking.
“Appearing to manage well externally doesn’t tell us how much effort it takes internally,” she says.
Autism in women and girls has historically been underdiagnosed. In part because of the masking of autistic traits, says Graham (Sargent’06, Wheelock’26), but largely due to historical bias toward boys and men in research; symptoms may also present differently in women. “Some women spend years or even decades knowing that something feels different, but without having a framework for understanding themselves. They may blame themselves for difficulties with relationships, sensory overwhelm, exhaustion, or navigating everyday demands.”
Among the relationships that may be inadvertently damaged along the way are those autistic mothers have with their own kids. In her new book, When Your Mom Is Autistic: A Guide to Understanding, Accepting, and Appreciating Your Autistic Mother (Simon & Schuster, October 2026), Graham explores the challenges these mothers have—and provides advice for their children to help them better live with, and love, their neurodivergent parents. The book draws on her expertise as a speech-language pathologist, her research on neurodiversity, and her clinical work with autistic women.
“I have learned so much from these women and realized how misunderstood they are in their personal and familial relationships, educational and professional settings,” says Graham, a BU Sargent College of Health & Rehabilitation Sciences clinical assistant professor of speech, language, and hearing sciences. Her work with the clinical group also informs her doctoral research in education and leadership policy at BU’s Wheelock College of Education & Human Development.
The book is targeted to adults, but Graham says some teens may also find it helpful; in future, she hopes to write a book for younger kids too.
The Brink spoke with her about the challenges faced by autistic mothers and their children—and her advice to both for navigating them.
Q&A with Meghan Graham:
The Brink: The book is for people whose mothers have autism, or who believe their mother might have autism. What kind of issues or challenges might they be navigating?
Graham: Autism is not a monolith, and autistic women vary tremendously in their personalities, strengths, challenges, and experiences. But an adult child may be trying to better understand aspects of their relationship with their mother that have sometimes felt confusing or difficult to interpret. Their mother may communicate or express affection in ways that differ from what is socially expected, become overwhelmed by sensory environments or competing demands, need greater predictability, have strong or highly focused interests, or experience challenges with executive functioning and organization.
The goal of the book is not to explain every family experience through autism or to portray these differences as inherently negative. Rather, it offers adult children another lens through which to understand their mothers and, ideally, to replace some confusion or misinterpretation with greater understanding, acceptance, and appreciation.
What’s an example of a piece of advice you have for them in dealing with those issues?
My advice would be to stay curious about the possibility that your mother’s way of communicating, connecting, and experiencing the world may be different from your own. The way you interpreted her behavior growing up—or the impact that behavior had on you—can be completely valid and there may be another layer to understand when you consider how she experiences the world. For example, a mother who didn’t express affection in expected ways may have been communicating love and connection very deeply, just differently. Understanding autism doesn’t require adult children to rewrite their own experiences. Instead, it can give them a broader lens for understanding both their mothers and their relationships with them.
What might autistic mothers take from the book?
Motherhood is hard for anyone, and autistic mothers are often navigating those demands while living in a world that isn’t particularly well designed for autistic people. There can be enormous expectations placed on mothers around social connection, emotional labor, organization, flexibility, and managing the needs of an entire family. I hope autistic mothers come away from the book with greater understanding of their relationships with their children, but also with some grace for themselves—for the ways they have navigated motherhood in environments that may not always have recognized or supported their needs.
The book shares stories from children and mothers. Is there one story in particular that you found especially evocative?
There were two types of stories that really stayed with me. One was hearing from autistic mothers who felt like they had to be “brilliant” or exceptional in some way to be recognized and valued as autistic women. There is still such a narrow idea of what autism looks like, particularly in women, and I was struck by the pressure some women felt to somehow prove or justify their autistic identity.
The other came from the children, who often talked about just how direct or blunt their mothers could be. Some of those stories were funny, but they also highlighted how differently the same interaction can be experienced by two people. I loved those stories because they captured one of the central ideas of the book: understanding someone’s communication style doesn’t mean dismissing its impact. Instead, it gives us a chance to be more curious about each other’s intentions and experiences.
You run a support group for women with autism. How has that shaped your perspective on the disorder and how society deals with it?
Working with autistic women has completely changed how I think about autism, and really, disability as a whole. There has been an important shift in speech-language pathology toward a more neurodiversity-affirming approach to working with autistic people. Simply put, rather than trying to make autistic people appear or behave more neurotypically, which historically has been a goal of many interventions, we are increasingly focused on helping autistic people understand and advocate for their own communication needs, while also asking the people and environments around them to change. Communication is a two-way street. The responsibility for successful communication should not rest solely on the autistic person.
The women I work with have been extraordinarily open and honest with me about how they experience the world. That openness has been an incredible privilege. At the same time, it can be heartbreaking to hear how frequently they have been misunderstood, underestimated, or expected to change themselves in order to make other people more comfortable.
Where might you take your research, teaching, or clinical work next?
I’m interested in creating opportunities for autistic adolescents, as well as broadening our adult groups to be inclusive of gender-diverse autistic people, while continuing to recognize that gender and the experience of growing up and living as a woman can meaningfully shape an autistic person’s life.
I would also love to develop an advanced autism course at BU for graduate students who want deeper preparation in this area before pursuing a career in healthcare or education. My hope is that they leave BU not only knowing more about autism, but also knowing how to listen to autistic people, question assumptions, and provide care that respects the people they are serving.
Is there an overall message in the book or one thing in particular you hope sticks with readers?
To lead with curiosity. We are all likely living, working, and interacting with autistic people regularly, whether we know it or not. There is still so much misunderstanding about autism, and we often interpret other people’s behavior through the lens of how we ourselves communicate and experience the world. I hope the book encourages readers to pause and ask, “Is there another way I could understand this?” Communication is a shared experience. Understanding one another requires curiosity, reflection, and flexibility from both people.