Some time ago, I saw an article describing autism as “a social handicap”, and I found that description very apt.

Take the workplace. There is talk of meritocracy—that is, people being hired and promoted on the basis of their merits. What is not mentioned is that networking and who you know are more important today than actual performance. You can be as efficient and knowledgeable as you like, but if you don’t know the right people, you have very little chance of getting anywhere.

As an autistic person, I find personal relationships very difficult, which is also noticeable in my professional life. The term “socially handicapped” may be derogatory, but it is accurate. I am not the one who participates in team events, especially not when they are planned outside working hours. I am not the one who chats with everyone to stay on good terms with everyone, in case one of my colleagues later in their career gets a position where I can benefit from the acquaintance. I do not maintain friendships to gain from them, and the few friendships I have are, at least on my part, without any requirement to provide me with any benefit or to repay me for kindness.

Since I don’t participate in networking, it is also very difficult for me to advance or even change jobs. In most, if not all, of my employment situations, I have excelled by carrying out my duties to the utmost satisfaction and in many cases even gone further by developing processes that others can also benefit from. But I am autistic, and my divergent behaviour and unwillingness to socialise solely for the sake of socialising mean that in many cases I am excluded from the workplace community. I can make small talk if I have to, but I avoid it as it gives me nothing and is exhausting. I find it difficult to understand hidden meanings, implicit hints, and I don’t read between the lines, so even a very superficial conversation requires a whole lot of decoding, which uses up a lot of the energy that I should be using for other things.

When I was younger, I believed in meritocracy, but later realised that it doesn’t work. People should be hired on merit, but in reality, there are usually external reasons why someone is not hired. I have heard of people with tattoos and piercings being ostracised, and have seen articles reporting on, for example, tattooed employees at nurseries being forced to quit by parents who say that the tattoos frighten the children. Imagine what kind of role model that provides: instead of talking to children about differences, children are taught that people with differences can and should be sacked. How can anyone expect these children to grow up into individuals who are tolerant, understanding, and inclusive?