The Colonial Blind Spots in Multilingual Autism Research: A Case for Decolonising Language Education
Today’s article critiques Multilingualism Impacts Executive Function and Core Autism Symptoms (Romero et al., 2024), exposing its colonial and ableist assumptions whilst arguing for decolonised, neurodivergent-affirming multilingual education.
Introduction
A recent study, Multilingualism Impacts Executive Function and Core Autism Symptoms (Romero et al., 2024), suggests that multilingualism confers cognitive benefits for autistic children, particularly in strengthening executive function (EF) skills such as inhibition and shifting. The authors argue that multilingual autistic children demonstrate fewer EF difficulties than their monolingual peers, and they propose that multilingualism may serve as a kind of natural intervention for some “core traits” associated with autism. On the surface, this appears to be a positive finding—one that challenges the assumption that multilingualism presents an additional burden for autistic learners. However, a closer examination of the study’s framing reveals deep-seated colonial and ableist assumptions about language, multilingualism, and autism.
The study operates within a monolingualist paradigm that treats language primarily as a tool for cognitive control rather than as a fundamental aspect of identity, literacy, and community. It measures multilingualism in terms of spoken proficiency, without addressing whether these children are fully biliterate or whether their home language is being preserved or eroded by their schooling environment. This is a crucial oversight, as it aligns with the longstanding colonial model of language education, which prioritises dominant languages for pragmatic use whilst diminishing the cultural and intellectual value of home languages. The study also reinforces deficit-based perspectives on autism, positioning EF difficulties as impairments to be mitigated rather than as natural variations in cognition. It fails to engage with alternative language processing models such as Gestalt Language Processing (GLP), which may offer a more nuanced understanding of how autistic multilinguals navigate language acquisition.
By framing multilingualism as an intervention that reduces perceived autistic deficits, rather than as a right that should be nurtured on its own terms, the study reinforces existing biases in both autism research and language education policy. Instead of advocating for multilingual education that genuinely supports home language literacy, it offers a narrow, instrumentalist view of multilingualism—one that validates bilingualism only when it appears to produce measurable cognitive advantages. This approach ignores the wider implications of language suppression, particularly in multilingual autistic communities where home language loss is already a significant issue. Rather than simply celebrating the study’s findings, we should be asking what is missing from its analysis and whose experiences have been overlooked. In doing so, we can begin to challenge the colonial underpinnings of language research and education and push for a more just and inclusive approach—one that centres multilingualism not as a cognitive tool, but as a lived, embodied reality that must be protected.
The Colonial Legacy of ELD and the Study’s Monolingual Bias
The study’s approach to multilingualism reflects a fundamental flaw in much of the existing research on language acquisition: it frames multilingualism solely in terms of spoken proficiency, completely ignoring literacy. This is a distinctly Eurocentric and colonialist oversight, one that reduces language to a functional tool for communication whilst disregarding its deeper role in identity formation, cognitive development, and cultural continuity. The study does not consider whether the multilingual children in its sample are fully biliterate, nor does it examine whether their home language is being maintained or gradually eroded through schooling. This omission is not incidental—it reflects the legacy of language education policies designed to replace home languages with dominant ones, rather than to cultivate genuine bilingual literacy.
This “replacement model” of language instruction has long been embedded in English Language Development (ELD) policies, which often prioritise English proficiency at the expense of a child’s home language. Rather than fostering full biliteracy, these programmes typically push for English dominance whilst allowing home languages to wither, a practice deeply rooted in colonial education systems that sought to assimilate indigenous and immigrant populations. The study does nothing to challenge this paradigm. By focusing exclusively on spoken language, it reinforces the assumption that multilingualism is valuable only insofar as it supports cognitive control in dominant languages, rather than recognising the inherent value of maintaining full linguistic competencies in multiple languages.
The implications of this erasure are significant. Many multilingual autistic children already face a literacy crisis under monolingual education policies that fail to support their home language development. If literacy is ignored in research on multilingualism, it becomes even easier for policymakers to justify ELD programmes that prioritise English at the expense of linguistic diversity. The reality is that multilingualism is not just about knowing two or more languages; it is about safeguarding linguistic traditions that have long been under threat from colonial education systems. If research like this study continues to measure multilingualism only through the lens of spoken proficiency, it will continue to uphold a framework that sees home languages as expendable rather than essential. Instead of reinforcing a monolingualist view of language development, the conversation should shift towards one that recognises multilingual literacy as a fundamental right, not just a cognitive bonus.
The Impact on Home Language and Identity: What This Study Ignores
One of the most glaring omissions in this study is its failure to explore whether multilingual children actually maintain their home language. Instead, it operates on the assumption that if a child can speak multiple languages, they are meaningfully bilingual. This neglects a crucial reality: many autistic children, particularly those in English-dominant environments, lose access to their home language due to systemic pressures from both education policies and societal expectations. Parents of autistic children are often advised—sometimes explicitly, sometimes through structural incentives—to prioritise English over their home language, out of fear that bilingualism may confuse or delay their child’s development. This pressure is particularly acute for families whose home language is already marginalised, reinforcing a broader pattern of linguistic suppression.
This reflects a colonial model of language control, in which multilingualism is considered beneficial only when it serves the interests of dominant institutions. If a child speaks multiple languages but cannot read or write in their home language, their multilingualism is incomplete—yet this study does not account for that distinction. In doing so, it inadvertently upholds a system in which home languages are tolerated as secondary skills but not recognised as equally valuable to English. The question that should be asked is not merely whether multilingualism provides cognitive benefits, but whether multilingual children are able to retain full linguistic and cultural access to their home language, or whether it is being slowly eroded by their schooling and social environment.
The danger of studies like this one is that they can be used to justify policies that continue the erasure of home languages under the guise of promoting bilingualism. If research frames multilingualism purely in terms of its cognitive advantages, rather than its role in identity, it risks reinforcing the very structures that force families to prioritise English at the cost of their linguistic heritage. True bilingualism is not just about speaking two languages—it requires literacy, cultural connection, and the ability to function in both languages across all domains of life. If a child grows up understanding and speaking their home language but cannot read or write in it, is that truly bilingualism, or just a softened version of linguistic assimilation? If multilingualism is to be genuinely supported, it must be protected not only as a cognitive asset but as a fundamental aspect of identity—something that cannot be reduced to the ability to switch between languages in conversation.
Gestalt Language Processing and the Study’s Ableist Framing
The study approaches executive function difficulties in autistic children as deficits to be corrected, rather than as natural variations in cognition that require different approaches to language development. This reflects a deeply ableist framing—one that assumes that the goal of education is to remediate perceived impairments rather than to support diverse ways of processing and using language. Nowhere in the study is there any discussion of Gestalt Language Processing or other neurodivergent language development models, despite the fact that a significant proportion of autistic individuals are Gestalt processors. Instead, the study positions multilingualism as a potential intervention to ‘improve’ EF skills, as though these skills need to be brought in line with neurotypical norms rather than understood on their own terms.
This omission is particularly problematic when considering how multilingual autistic children process language. Many GLPs acquire and use language holistically rather than analytically, meaning they do not learn language in discrete, rule-based units but rather in larger chunks or scripts. This has profound implications for literacy development, as it suggests that multilingual GLPs may require a fundamentally different approach to bilingual education—one that prioritises whole-language exposure, meaningful repetition, and natural language acquisition processes rather than traditional phonics-based or grammar-first instruction. The study’s narrow focus on EF overlooks the fact that autistic children may struggle in monolingual education systems not because of inherent cognitive deficits, but because these systems fail to accommodate their natural learning styles.
One of the first conversations I have with a student and their family when they join my class or caseload is simple: “In what language do you dream?” This question is crucial because it reveals the student’s deep linguistic grounding—the language that shapes their internal thoughts, emotions, and identity. If they say they dream in their home language, I emphasise the importance of building full adult literacy in that language, not just spoken fluency. I also highlight how their home language can serve as a scaffold for developing academic English, given that English is often a de facto foreign language in their lives. Too often, ELD models treat home languages as obstacles to English acquisition, when in reality, strengthening home language literacy is one of the most effective ways to support English Cognitive Academic Language Proficiency (CALP).
This is precisely the kind of thinking that is missing from studies like this one. Instead of framing EF challenges as deficits to be mitigated, multilingual education should be designed to work with neurodivergent language development rather than against it. A decolonised approach to language education would recognise that GLPs, autistic multilinguals, and other neurodivergent learners process language differently, and that the education system—not the student—must adapt. When research on multilingualism in autism fails to account for these realities, it does more than simply overlook an important factor; it reinforces an ableist paradigm that defines difference as disorder, rather than as a valid and valuable way of engaging with the world.
Decolonising ELD: Moving Beyond a Eurocentric Perspective
The study operates within a Eurocentric framework that assumes all multilingual learners experience similar conditions, failing to account for the vast differences in how multilingualism functions across dominant and marginalised communities. By situating its research in Miami—a city with a well-established bilingual Spanish-English culture—the study does not reflect the realities of multilingual learners in contexts where linguistic oppression is a defining feature of education policy. The multilingualism experienced by a child in a Spanish-speaking Miami household, where Spanish is widely spoken in the community, is entirely different from that of Indigenous children whose languages are systematically erased or African diaspora communities navigating linguistic fragmentation due to colonial histories. Yet the study does not engage with these distinctions, treating multilingualism as a uniform phenomenon rather than something shaped by power, access, and historical oppression.
This oversight is not just an academic gap; it has real-world consequences. The study suggests that multilingualism benefits autistic children, but it fails to address how colonial education systems actively suppress multilingualism in many communities. For Indigenous children, African diaspora multilinguals, and immigrant populations whose languages are under constant threat, multilingualism is not simply a cognitive asset—it is an act of survival, a resistance to forced assimilation. Yet studies like this one risk being used to reinforce deficit-based views of monolingual autistic students, implying that their lack of multilingual exposure is a personal shortcoming rather than the result of structural barriers that limit access to meaningful bilingual education. If multilingualism is only celebrated when it aligns with dominant language structures, then research like this does little to challenge the systems that erase home languages in the first place.
This is a pattern I have seen firsthand in my work with students navigating linguistic identity. Many of my students have been raised in environments where their home language is actively discouraged in schools, where they have been conditioned to see English as the only path to success. Yet when I ask them, “In what language do you dream?” their answer is often their home language, revealing the deep connection between language and identity that schooling systems attempt to sever. The transition to adulthood brings these tensions into sharper focus—students who have spent their entire lives being told to prioritise English suddenly realise they lack the full literacy needed to engage with their home language in professional or academic spaces. This is not an accident; it is the product of an education system designed to assimilate rather than empower.
A decolonised approach to multilingual education must go beyond simply celebrating the cognitive benefits of speaking multiple languages. It must acknowledge bilingualism as a right, not an intervention, and it must shift the burden from students to the education system itself. If autistic children thrive in multilingual environments, then the question should not be whether multilingualism can ‘help’ them but why so many autistic children are denied access to truly multilingual education. Studies like this one fail to engage with the structural forces that shape multilingual experiences, offering conclusions that reinforce rather than challenge existing hierarchies. To move forward, research must recognise that multilingualism is not neutral—it is political, shaped by histories of colonisation, forced assimilation, and systemic exclusion. Until these realities are centred, any discussion of multilingualism in autism research will remain incomplete.
The Policy Risks of Misinterpreting This Study
The study’s findings, if misinterpreted or applied without critical analysis, could easily be co-opted to reinforce the very colonial education policies that have long suppressed true multilingual education. If multilingualism is shown to improve executive function in autistic children, will schools use this as justification to push autistic students into bilingual speech programmes while continuing to deny them full literacy in their home language? Will this research be leveraged to support assimilationist bilingual models that promote English dominance while giving only superficial recognition to home languages? The risk here is not that multilingualism itself is harmful—far from it—but that it will be weaponised in ways that prioritise cognitive outcomes over linguistic justice.
Without careful scrutiny, this study could be used to argue for EF training through language exposure rather than pushing for systemic reforms in bilingual education. Instead of challenging the rigid monolingual structures of most education systems, it presents multilingualism as a potential ‘fix’ for autistic traits, reducing language to a tool for cognitive remediation rather than recognising it as a fundamental right. This is a dangerous framing. It positions multilingualism as valuable only when it produces measurable cognitive benefits, rather than as something that should be nurtured regardless of its utility to dominant institutions. The study does not call for any changes to bilingual education policies, nor does it acknowledge the ways in which autistic multilinguals are often denied meaningful opportunities to develop full biliteracy. Instead, it offers a narrow vision of language acquisition—one that centres outcomes over identity, function over freedom.
This is precisely the kind of thinking that my upcoming book Decolonising Language Education challenges. Bilingualism should not be a tool of assimilation but a right, and education policy must reflect that. The real solution is not simply to promote multilingualism for its cognitive ‘benefits’ but to enact systemic change in how multilingual education is structured—ensuring that students, particularly autistic and neurodivergent students, are given the opportunity to develop full literacy in all of their languages. Language should not be treated as a means of fixing executive function but as a core part of a student’s identity and learning experience. Until the focus shifts from individual outcomes to systemic reform, studies like this one will continue to reinforce the idea that multilingualism is valuable only when it serves the needs of dominant institutions, rather than the needs of the students themselves.
Final thoughts …
This study serves as yet another example of why decolonising language education is not just necessary but urgent. Whilst it presents multilingualism as beneficial for executive function in autistic children, it does so within a colonial framework that reinforces existing hierarchies of language rather than challenging them. It reduces multilingualism to a cognitive tool while failing to acknowledge the importance of home language literacy, the realities of Gestalt processing, and the broader systemic forces that shape language access. Instead of advocating for educational reform, it treats multilingualism as a potential intervention for executive function difficulties, sidelining the deeper issue: the structural suppression of non-dominant languages within education systems.
This is precisely what Decolonising Language Education seeks to address. The real conversation should not be about whether multilingualism can ‘help’ autistic children within existing systems, but about how those systems must change to respect linguistic diversity, support full biliteracy, and accommodate neurodivergent language processing. A decolonised approach to language education demands:
Full multilingual literacy, not just speech—because speaking multiple languages is not enough if literacy is denied.
Language as identity, not just a cognitive tool—because language shapes who we are, not just how efficiently we process information.
Educational reform that respects neurodivergent language processing—because autistic children do not need to be ‘fixed’; they need environments that work with their natural ways of learning.
The takeaway is clear: we don’t need ‘multilingualism as intervention’—we need a revolution in how we teach, preserve, and respect language. Multilingualism should not be treated as an experiment in cognitive enhancement but as a fundamental right. Until education systems prioritise linguistic justice over assimilation, studies like this will continue to reinforce colonial narratives under the guise of scientific inquiry. The challenge ahead is not just to prove that multilingualism is beneficial—it is to ensure that all children, particularly those from marginalised and neurodivergent communities, have the right to access and maintain their full linguistic heritage.