Examining Object Personification in Autism: Insights and Critiques from an Autistic Perspective
A fairly recent study circulating LinkedIn caught my attention as an autistic person fascinated by the way my neurodivergent siblings and I interact with the world. The paper, entitled “Object Personification in Autism: This Paper Will Be Very Sad If You Don’t Read It,” explores the phenomenon of ascribing human-like qualities to non-human objects, a tendency they found to be more common among autistics compared to our neurotypical peers. Through an online survey, the researchers discovered that 56% of autistic respondents reported personifying objects, compared to just 33% of non-autistic respondents. Additionally, autistic individuals who personified objects tended to do so more frequently than their neurotypical counterparts.
As someone who has always had strong emotional attachments to stuffed animals (e.g., fribbit), I was quite drawn to this study. The idea that my deep connections with my cherished companions might be related to my autism was an interesting concept, one that prompted me to reflect on the many ways in which my neurodivergent mind shapes my experiences and relationships, both with people and with objects.
However, as I delved deeper into the paper, I found myself grappling with some of the assumptions and interpretations put forth by the researchers. Me being me, I couldn’t help but notice the neurotypical lens through which the study seemed to be framed, and the potential limitations this perspective might impose on our understanding of object personification in autism.
In today’s article, I aim to provide a balanced review of the study, acknowledging the valuable insights it offers whilst also critically examining some of its underlying assumptions. Drawing on my own experiences and my observations of the autistic community, I will explore alternative explanations for our tendency to personify objects and question the deficit-based narratives that often dominate discussions of autism and social cognition. Ultimately, my goal is (as always) to amplify autistic voices and perspectives in the broader conversation about autism research, and to advocate for a more nuanced, strengths-based approach to understanding the beautifully diverse ways in which autistic minds engage with the world.
Summary of the study
White and Remington’s study employed an online survey to gather data from 87 autistic and 263 non-autistic adults. The survey consisted of demographic questions, the Autism Quotient 10 (AQ-10) to assess autistic traits, a series of questions about participants’ tendencies to personify objects, and the Anthropomorphism Questionnaire to measure the degree to which individuals attribute human-like characteristics to non-human entities. The researchers found that a significantly higher proportion of autistic respondents (56%) reported personifying objects compared to non-autistic respondents (33%). Furthermore, among those who personified objects, autistic individuals tended to do so more frequently than their neurotypical counterparts, with 31% of autistic personifiers reporting daily personification compared to just 16% of non-autistic personifiers.
The authors propose several explanations for the increased prevalence of object personification among autistic individuals. They suggest that personifying objects may serve as a way for autistic people to reduce feelings of social disconnection and loneliness, as previous research has shown that ascribing human-like qualities to non-human agents can promote a sense of social connection. Additionally, the researchers posit that object personification could be a coping mechanism for autistic individuals to alleviate anxiety and reduce uncertainty, as anthropomorphising non-human entities has been found to make them seem more predictable and understandable. Finally, the authors consider the possibility that object personification in autism may be related to synaesthesia, a condition characterised by the blending of sensory and cognitive experiences, which has been found to be more common among autistics.
Whilst the study provides insights into the prevalence and potential functions of object personification in autism, it is essential to critically examine the assumptions and biases that may underlie the research. As someone who finds comfort and companionship in my stuffed animals, I question the notion that this behaviour is inherently problematic or abnormal. The framing of object personification as a “deficit” or a “coping mechanism” suggests that the researchers may be approaching the phenomenon from a neurotypical perspective that pathologises autistic experiences and behaviours that deviate from societal norms.
Instead of viewing object personification as a symptom of social and emotional deficits, I propose that we consider it as a valid and meaningful way for autistic folks to express our creativity, empathy, and unique way of engaging with the world. For me, forming deep emotional bonds with stuffed animals is a natural and integral part of my identity, one that brings me joy, comfort, and a sense of connection. Rather than seeking to “fix” or “normalise” this behaviour, I believe we should strive to understand and appreciate the diverse ways in which autistics navigate and make sense of our surroundings.
By challenging the deficit-based narratives surrounding object personification in autism, we can create space for a more inclusive and affirming understanding of neurodiversity. This shift in perspective not only validates the experiences of autistic people like myself but also opens up new avenues for research that seeks to explore the strengths and unique capacities of the autistic mind.
Autistic reflections on object personification
As an autistic adult (and trans woman … though it has nothing to do with the study, I just wanted to throw that in because I’m having so much fun and joy at saying it), my experiences with stuffed animals and Squishmallows (in my house, we call them Squishletts). have been an integral part of my life. From a young age, I have found solace and companionship in these soft, plush friends. I still cherish a few of my childhood stuffed bears (made for me by my grandmother and my aunt), which hold a special place in my heart and serve as tangible reminders of the comfort and security they provided me growing up. Each of these “friends” has a unique name and personality, and I have always treated them as if they were sentient beings with thoughts and feelings of their own. This deep emotional connection with my stuffed animals has been a constant throughout my life, providing me with a sense of stability and unconditional love in a world that can often feel overwhelming and unpredictable.
In recent years, I have noticed a growing trend within the online autistic community: the popularity of Squishmallows. These soft, adorable plush toys have taken the internet by storm, and it seems that autistics have particularly embraced them. Scrolling through social media feeds, it's common to see autistic content creators showcasing their Squishmallow collections, often displayed prominently in the background of their photos and videos. Many autistic folks openly express their love for these squishy companions, sharing stories about their favorites and the comfort they bring.
The prevalence of Squishmallows within the online autistic community is a testament to the profound connection many of us feel with these inanimate objects. It’s a connection that goes beyond mere collectibles or cute decorations; for many of us, Squishmallows serve as essential sources of emotional support and self-regulation. The act of cuddling, squeezing, or simply being in the presence of these soft, comforting objects can provide a sense of calm and security in moments of stress or sensory overload.
Moreover, the mainstream popularity of Squishmallows has had an unexpected but welcome consequence for autistic adults who have always cherished stuffed animals. Suddenly, our love for these plush companions is seen as socially acceptable, even trendy. This newfound acceptance has provided a sense of validation and belonging for many of us who may have previously felt self-conscious or “too old” for stuffed animals. It has created a space where we can openly express our affection for these objects without fear of judgment or ridicule.
The experiences of autistics with stuffed animals and Squishmallows closely align with the findings of the study. The higher prevalence of personification among autistic respondents in the study mirrors the widespread love for Squishmallows and other plush toys within the autistic community. Furthermore, the study’s suggestion that personification may serve as a way to reduce social disconnection and alleviate anxiety resonates with the comfort and emotional support many of us derive from our stuffed companions.
By examining these real-life examples in the autistic community, we can develop a more nuanced understanding of this phenomenon. Rather than viewing it solely through a deficit-based lens, as the study’s authors seem to do, we can recognise the value and meaning that these relationships hold for us. Our love for stuffed animals and Squishmallows is not a symptom of social or emotional impairment, but rather a reflection of our unique way of engaging with the world and finding comfort in the face of challenges.
Critiquing neurotypical assumptions
The study provides insights into a phenomenon that has long been observed and discussed within the autistic community. However, it is crucial to examine the underlying assumptions and biases that may influence the researchers’ interpretations of their findings. As an autistic person, I find the framing of personification as “paradoxical” given autistic social challenges to be problematic. This characterisation seems to stem from a neurotypical perspective that views autism primarily through a deficit-based lens, focusing on the challenges autistic individuals face in social interactions and emotional understanding.
The authors’ surprise at the high prevalence of object personification among autistics reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the autistic experience. They seem to assume that difficulties in social communication and interaction necessarily preclude the ability to form deep, meaningful connections with non-human entities. However, this assumption fails to recognise the complex and diverse ways in which autistics navigate our social world and form attachments.
Furthermore, the study’s reliance on the “theory of mind” deficit explanation for object personification in autism is reductionistic and fails to capture the nuances of autistic cognition and empathy. The “theory of mind” concept, which posits that autistic individuals struggle to understand and attribute mental states to others, has been increasingly challenged by autistic researchers and advocates. Many argue that “theory of mind” tests and assumptions are based on neurotypical norms and fail to account for the unique ways in which autistic individuals process and express social understanding (ya’ think?!).
Instead of defaulting to deficit-based explanations, we should consider alternative reasons for the strong affinity many of us feel toward our favourite things. For instance, the consistency, predictability, and non-judgmental nature of stuffed animals and other personified objects may provide a sense of safety and comfort for folks who struggle with the unpredictability and social demands of neurotypical interactions. Additionally, the act of personifying objects may allow folks to express their creativity, imagination, and empathy in ways that feel more natural and intuitive to them.
It is essential to recognise the limitations of neurotypical perspectives in autism research. Studies like this, whilst seemingly well-intentioned, often inadvertently perpetuate stereotypes and misunderstandings about the autistic experience. By approaching autism from a primarily deficit-based perspective, researchers risk overlooking the strengths, abilities, and unique qualities that characterise autistic people.
To develop a more comprehensive and accurate understanding of object personification in autism, it is crucial to center autistic voices and perspectives in the research process. Autistic people should be actively involved in the design, execution, and interpretation of studies that aim to explore our experiences and behaviours. By collaborating with autistic researchers and community members, we can begin to challenge the assumptions and biases that have long dominated autism research and move towards a more inclusive, strengths-based approach.
Ultimately, the critique of neurotypical assumptions in the study highlights the need for a paradigm shift in autism research (yes, I know I keep saying that). By questioning deficit-based narratives and embracing the diversity of autistic experiences, we can develop a more nuanced and empowering understanding of object personification and other aspects of autistic life. This shift in perspective not only benefits the autistic community but also enriches our collective understanding of the beautiful complexity of the human mind.
Strengths and limitations of the study
Whilst the study has notable limitations, it is essential to acknowledge the authors’ efforts to include autistic experiences and anecdotal reports in their research. By basing their inquiry on the accounts of autistic individuals shared in online forums and other platforms, the researchers demonstrate a willingness to listen to and learn from the autistic community. This approach represents a step towards more inclusive and participatory autism research, which has historically been dominated by neurotypical perspectives and assumptions.
However, the study’s methodology and potential biases must also be critically examined. The reliance on an online survey to gather data, whilst practical and efficient, may not fully capture the complexity and nuances of autistic individuals’ experiences with object personification. The use of quantitative measures, such as the Autism Quotient 10 and the Anthropomorphism Questionnaire, may not adequately account for the diverse ways in which autistics express their relationship with objects.
Furthermore, the study’s sample, which was recruited through convenience sampling and online platforms, may not be representative of the broader autistic population. The researchers’ decision to exclude participants who did not have English as their first language, whilst intended to control for potential confounding factors, may have inadvertently limited the diversity of autistic experiences represented in the study.
It is also important to consider the potential biases that may have influenced the researchers’ interpretations of their findings. As previously discussed, the framing of object personification as :paradoxical” and the reliance on deficit-based explanations, such as the “theory of mind,” suggest that the authors may be approaching the topic from a primarily neurotypical perspective. This perspective may limit their ability to fully understand and appreciate the meaning and value of object personification for autistics.
To address these limitations and develop a more comprehensive understanding of object personification in autism, it is crucial to imagine what autistic-led research on this topic might look like. Autistic researchers, with their lived experiences and unique insights, are better positioned to design studies that accurately capture the diversity and complexity of autistic experiences. They can develop research questions and methodologies that are grounded in the priorities and perspectives of the autistic community, rather than being imposed from a neurotypical standpoint.
Autistic-led research on object personification might employ qualitative methods, such as in-depth interviews or focus groups, to gather rich, detailed accounts of autistic peoples’ relationships with objects. These methods would allow for a more nuanced exploration of the emotional, sensory, and cognitive aspects of object personification, as well as the social and cultural contexts in which these experiences occur.
Furthermore, autistic researchers could actively involve the autistic community in the research process, from the initial design stages to the interpretation and dissemination of findings. This participatory approach would ensure that the research is responsive to the needs and concerns of autistics and that the results are communicated in a way that is accessible and meaningful to the community.
By centering autistic voices and perspectives in the study of object personification, we can begin to develop a more accurate and empowering understanding of this phenomenon. Autistic-led research has the potential to challenge the dominant narratives and assumptions that have long shaped autism research and to generate new insights that can inform more inclusive and supportive practices.
Thus, whilst the study has some strengths, it is essential to recognise its limitations and the need for more autistic-led research in this area. By embracing the expertise and lived experiences of autistic individuals and actively involving us in the research process, we can move towards a more comprehensive and nuanced understanding of a multitude of aspects of autistic life.
Implications and future directions
The findings of the study have some interesting implications for our understanding of autistic experiences and the ways in which we can better support the autistic community. One of the key takeaways from this research is the need to recognise and validate the various coping mechanisms and strategies that autistic people employ to navigate our social and sensory world. Object personification, as the study suggests, may serve as a way for us to reduce feelings of social disconnection, alleviate anxiety, and find comfort in the face of challenges.
Rather than viewing object personification as a deficit or a symptom of impairment, we should seek to understand the underlying reasons why autistics may form deep emotional attachments to inanimate objects. By acknowledging the value and meaning of these relationships, we can develop more supportive and inclusive environments that allow us to express our unique ways of coping and engaging with the world.
Furthermore, the study’s findings highlight the need for more research on personification-related distress and support needs within the autistic community. Whilst the authors briefly mention that some autistic individuals report feelings of sadness or despair when confronted with objects they perceive as lonely or hurt, they do not delve deeply into the potential negative impacts of object personification on mental health and well-being.
Future research should prioritise the experiences and perspectives of autistic individuals who may struggle with the emotional burden of their personification tendencies. By conducting in-depth qualitative studies and engaging directly with autistic individuals, researchers can gain a more nuanced understanding of the challenges and support needs associated with object personification. This knowledge can inform the development of strategies that promote our overall well-being.
Importantly, this future research should be conducted in close collaboration with the autistic community, embracing a participatory approach that values the expertise and lived experiences of all autistics (not just the convenient). Participatory autism research, which involves autistic individuals (of all diagnostic levels as well as the self-diagnosed, in a variety of the world’s languages) as active partners in the research process, has the potential to generate more accurate, relevant, and empowering insights into the autistic experience.
By including autistic perspectives in the design, implementation, and interpretation of studies on object personification and other aspects of autistic life, researchers can ensure that their work is grounded in the priorities and concerns of the autistic community. This approach can help to challenge the dominant deficit-based narratives that have long shaped autism research and to develop a more strengths-based, neurodiversity-affirming understanding of autistic experiences.
Moreover, participatory research can contribute to the empowerment and self-advocacy of autistics, providing opportunities for us to shape the direction and focus of research that directly impacts our lives. By amplifying autistic voices and centering autistic expertise, we can create a more inclusive and equitable research landscape that benefits both the autistic community and the broader field of autism studies.
Thus, the implications of the study extend far beyond the specific findings of the research. By highlighting the importance of understanding and supporting autistic coping mechanisms, calling for more research on personification-related distress and support needs, and advocating for participatory autism research, we can begin to transform the way we approach the study and support of autistic individuals.
As we move forward, it is crucial that we continue to listen to and learn from the autistic community, recognising our unique perspectives and experiences as valuable sources of knowledge and insight. Only by working in partnership with autistic folks and centering our voices in the research process can we hope to develop a more accurate, empowering, and inclusive understanding of autism and the diverse ways in which autistics navigate and make sense of the world.