Understanding Touch: An Autistic Perspective on Sensory Experiences
A new study published in ‘Autism Research’ reveals intriguing insights into how autistic individuals experience touch that somewhat validate or confirm my own experiences as an autistic trans woman. Researchers found that whilst autistic people have lower physiological responses to touch compared to neurotypical individuals, they report higher intensity ratings for both pleasant and unpleasant touch sensations. This highlights a complex interplay between subjective experiences and physiological responses.
Touch is fundamental in human communication, often playing a crucial role in establishing and maintaining relationships even before verbal skills develop. It conveys emotional and social meanings, promoting attachment and bonding. Affective touch, involving gentle, caress-like strokes, typically elicits pleasant sensations through a specialised sensory system in the skin.
For autistic folks, sensory experiences can differ significantly from those of neurotypical people. Atypical sensory processing can impact social interactions and quality of life. Previous research indicates that some autistic individuals might find certain types of touch unpleasant or overwhelming, contributing to social challenges. This study aims to deepen our understanding of how affective touch is perceived and processed in autistic adults.
The study involved 48 participants: 24 autistic adults and 24 neurotypical controls. Participants were seated comfortably with their left arm hidden from view and received a series of touch stimuli on the dorsal side of their left forearm, including slow, gentle strokes (affective touch) and tapping (control touch). The experimenter recorded the participants’ physiological responses using a device that measured skin conductance, an indicator of autonomic nervous system activity. After each touch, participants rated its pleasant and unpleasant components using a numerical scale.
The findings revealed that autistic individuals exhibited lower overall skin conductance levels compared to neurotypical participants, indicating a reduced autonomic response. Whilst neurotypical participants showed a higher physiological response to affective touch compared to control touch, this differentiation was not observed in the autistic group. Despite this, autistic individuals rated both the pleasant and unpleasant aspects of touch higher than neurotypical participants, suggesting they perceive touch more intensely on both positive and negative scales.
The author explains that understanding the complex touch experiences of autistic individuals using both subjective and physiological measures highlights discrepancies between conscious experiences and implicit bodily responses. This understanding is crucial for better comprehending the challenges ‘associated with autism’ and may inform more effective diagnostic and therapeutic approaches. Future research should include a more diverse range of autistic individuals to provide a comprehensive understanding of sensory processing in this community.
Diving deeper …
As an autistic trans woman (it just feels so good to keep saying that), my relationship with touch has been complex and evolving. Before my transition and autism diagnosis, I was a football player, a role that thrust me into a sensory overload I didn’t fully understand. The tight, scratchy uniforms and the constricting helmet produced an intense, angry rage mixed with a heightened fight-or-flight response. For me, it was more fight than flight, which made me an extremely effective offensive lineman. My large size, combined with this raw, uncontrollable energy, allowed me to channel my sensory discomfort into sheer physical power on the field.
However, since beginning my transition and undergoing hormone replacement therapy (HRT), my experience with touch has transformed dramatically. Touch now feels entirely more sensual and pleasurable, a stark contrast to the surprise or shock it once brought. This change has made me more aware of my need to control when, how, and by whom I am touched. The intensity of touch has not diminished; rather, it has shifted from a source of distress to a nuanced and enjoyable experience.
This newfound sensitivity necessitates careful management of physical contact. I am selective about who can touch me, and I establish clear boundaries regarding when and where touch is acceptable. This is crucial not only for my comfort but also for my emotional well-being. The wrong touch at the wrong time can still trigger an overwhelming response, so maintaining control is essential.
In understanding the intensity of touch for autistic individuals, this recent study resonates deeply with my personal experiences. It underscores the importance of recognising and respecting the unique sensory needs of autistic people. For me, this means embracing the pleasurable aspects of touch whilst safeguarding my sensory boundaries. This balance is a vital part of my journey as an autistic trans woman, helping me navigate social interactions and maintain my well-being.
Information is power
Despite the profound importance of understanding touch for autistic individuals, there remains a significant lack of unbiased information available on this topic. Much of the existing literature and resources are entrenched in the medical model of disability, presenting autistic people as broken or in need of fixing. This perspective fails to recognise the innate differences in sensory processing as variations rather than deficits. Consequently, the narrative often revolves around ‘normalising’ autistic sensory experiences rather than embracing and understanding them as they are.
This biased viewpoint obscures the potential for autistic individuals to explore and enjoy their sensory experiences. When information is presented through a deficit-based lens, it undermines the autonomy of autistic people, suggesting that their experiences need to be corrected rather than validated and accommodated. This approach neglects the fact that, when given the right tools and environments, autistic individuals can learn to understand and harness their sensory systems effectively.
Understanding how one’s body works and finding safe, appropriate environments can transform sensory experiences from overwhelming to pleasurable. For example, with the right support and knowledge, an autistic person can learn to identify which types of touch are soothing and which are distressing. This awareness allows them to set boundaries and create sensory-friendly environments, enhancing their quality of life.
My own journey as an autistic trans woman highlights the potential for sensory pleasure when one understands and respects their body’s needs. Before my transition, the sensory overload from football gear created intense discomfort, but it also fueled my effectiveness on the field. Now, with a deeper understanding of my sensory system and the changes brought about by HRT, I can experience touch in a way that is profoundly pleasurable and fulfilling. This shift was made possible by learning about my body’s responses and creating a supportive environment that respects my sensory boundaries.
Unfortunately, such positive, empowering information is scarce. The prevailing discourse needs to shift towards a social model of disability, where sensory differences are acknowledged and valued. Autistic folks should have access to resources that help them understand and optimise their sensory experiences, rather than being pressured to conform to neurotypical standards. By embracing this approach, we can move towards a society that respects and celebrates neurodiversity, providing autistic people with the tools to thrive.