We’re Perfectly Normal Autistic People: A Deconstruction of Neurotypicality Worship in Science

Why are so many studies obsessed with measuring autistic people against the supposed gold standard of the neuro-majority? It’s as though the scientific community can’t resist the urge to frame us as anomalies, endlessly dissecting our behaviour to determine how far we’ve “deviated” from what they’ve decided is normal. The University of Montreal’s recent study on brain synchronisation in autistic and neuro-majority social interactions is no exception. With its focus on “distinctive socio-cognitive behaviours that deviate from typical patterns,” it clings tightly to a deficit-based narrative, subtly implying that autistic people are dysfunctional versions of the neuro-majority rather than fully realised individuals with our own strengths and ways of being.

This framing is not just outdated—it’s harmful. By treating neuro-majority traits as the unexamined default, studies like this perpetuate the idea that autistic traits are inherently inferior or in need of correction. This isn’t harmless research; it’s a continuation of a long history of pathologising autistic people, often to justify interventions designed to make us conform, not thrive. Beneath the guise of science lies a troubling undercurrent of ableism, one that reinforces systemic barriers and invalidates our lived experiences. In today’s article, we’ll explore the study’s flawed assumptions and methodology, its troubling echoes of eugenic thinking, and the broader societal implications of its conclusions. Along the way, we’ll ask: who benefits from these studies, and why do they continue to ignore what autistic people actually value in communication and social connection?

The Problem with the Abstract

The abstract of the study begins with the phrase, “Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is defined by distinctive socio-cognitive behaviors that deviate from typical patterns.” On the surface, it might sound like neutral scientific language, but let’s be honest: this phrasing is anything but. By framing autistic traits as “deviations” from the “typical,” the authors position the neuro-majority as the universal default, casting autistic people as outliers who fall short of the ideal. This isn’t just a matter of semantics—it’s a reflection of the deeply entrenched ableism that permeates much of autism research. When was the last time you heard a study describe neuro-majority behaviours as “distinctive” or in need of explanation? Exactly.

The language here is no different than saying left-handedness deviates from the norm of right-handedness, as if we should all strive to fit into the dominant mould. It’s reductive, outdated, and ultimately absurd. This approach not only pathologises autistic ways of being but subtly reinforces the idea that the neuro-majority holds a monopoly on what’s valuable or acceptable in human behaviour. By starting with a framing that treats autistic differences as deficits, the abstract sets the tone for the rest of the study, ensuring that any findings will be interpreted through a lens of deficiency rather than diversity. Let’s call this what it is: a biased foundation for a biased investigation.

The ‘Neurotypical Benchmark:’ A Flawed Standard

The study leans heavily on the idea that neuro-majority brain synchrony is the standard for “successful” social interaction, a choice that reeks of bias masquerading as objectivity. The researchers measured synchrony between autistic and neuro-majority participants, using neuro-majority pairings as the baseline for what they deemed “normal” interaction. It’s as if the study set out to confirm what it already believed: that autistic differences are deviations from the correct way of being. This isn’t just scientifically lazy—it’s a dangerous echo of utilitarian thinking that historically framed those who diverge from the norm as less valuable. If this sounds uncomfortably close to the logic behind Aktion T4, it’s because it is. Back then, lives deemed unproductive or “deviant” were classified as burdens to be eliminated. Whilst this study isn’t advocating such extremes, the undercurrent is disturbingly similar: difference is deficiency, and deficiency is a problem.

This framing perpetuates the harmful myth that neuro-majority ways of interacting are inherently superior, leaving little room for the validity of autistic social styles. But let’s take a step back and ask: if neuro-majorities are so socially adept, why do so many of them struggle to understand us? Maybe neuro-majorities just aren’t that great at listening. The study doesn’t consider this possibility, of course. Instead, it reinforces the narrative that autistic individuals need to be more like the neuro-majority to participate meaningfully in society, ignoring the fact that genuine connection is a two-way street.

The irony here is rich: whilst neuro-majority norms are treated as the ultimate measure of success, they often fail to account for the complexity and diversity of human interaction. Rather than assuming we’re the problem, perhaps it’s time to question why neuro-majority communication is held up as the gold standard. After all, their so-called “typical” ways of interacting don’t seem all that impressive when you really examine them.

Historical Context: Eugenics and the Utility of Difference

Autism research has long been haunted by its eugenic roots, where difference was pathologised, measured, and ultimately weaponised against those who didn’t fit the mould. Hans Asperger’s work during the Nazi era exemplifies this, as he categorised autistic individuals into those with “useful” traits, worthy of survival, and those without, who were discarded under Aktion T4. This grim legacy wasn’t confined to Germany. The University of Montreal itself contributed to the early 20th-century eugenics movement, pushing theories that framed deviations from societal norms as deficiencies in need of correction. Unfortunately, studies like this one show that those old habits die hard, even when dressed up in modern neuroscience.

In this study, “synchrony” is defined as the alignment of brainwave activity and behaviours during social interaction, specifically focusing on how well autistic and neuro-majority individuals imitate each other’s gestures. Sounds harmless, right? But the subtext is clear: neuro-majority patterns are the unexamined baseline, and the degree to which autistic individuals can align with those patterns becomes a measure of their social competence. This inherently pathologises autistic interaction styles by reducing them to their “failures” to fit neuro-majority expectations. From a neurodivergent perspective, synchrony isn’t about copying gestures in lockstep or achieving some predefined rhythm; it’s about connection, understanding, and finding common ground—concepts this study ignores entirely.

The study’s focus on turn-taking and leadership adds yet another layer of judgment. The researchers observed that autistic participants were more likely to “follow” than “lead” during imitation tasks, presenting this as evidence of a social deficit. But let’s reframe this through a neurodivergent lens: what if autistic individuals are simply engaging in a matristic style of interaction, one that values collaboration, mutual support, and non-hierarchical relationships over dominance and control? Autistic ways of connecting often prioritise observing, understanding, and responding thoughtfully rather than asserting authority or performing dominance. This is a strength, not a weakness. By framing leadership in narrowly neuro-majority terms, the study fails to recognise that many autistic individuals approach relationships with an ethos of reciprocity and shared engagement rather than competition.

This fixation on “leadership” as a marker of social competence reeks of the same utilitarian thinking that eugenics relied on—valuing traits that align with dominance-driven societal norms whilst dismissing those that foster cooperation, care, and interconnectedness. In reality, the matristic tendencies often seen in autistic relationships could teach the neuro-majority a thing or two about building meaningful, egalitarian connections. Instead, studies like this one double down on the assumption that the neuro-majority’s hierarchical approach is the only valid way to interact, further pathologising difference rather than celebrating diversity.

So, what are we really measuring here? Is it synchrony, or how well autistic people can mimic neuro-majority behaviours to make everyone else comfortable? From a neurodivergent standpoint, this obsession with conformity misses the point entirely. True connection doesn’t come from mirroring someone else’s behaviour on command; it comes from mutual understanding and respect. If studies like this one stopped trying to cram autistic people into neuro-majority templates, they might actually learn something about the richness of human interaction. Instead, they perpetuate the same tired hierarchies that have always devalued neurodivergent lives.

The Study Design: A Recipe for Misinterpretation

The study’s design is a prime example of how experimental methodology can pave the way for misinterpretation. The researchers chose to focus on imitation and synchrony tasks, assuming these would reveal something meaningful about social interaction in autistic individuals. Participants were placed in separate rooms, shown their partner’s hand movements on a screen, and instructed to perform meaningless gestures that they could imitate—or not. This setup tells us very little about how autistic people interact in real-world, meaningful social contexts. Instead, it isolates them in an artificial scenario where the stakes are low, the context is unfamiliar, and the rules are dictated entirely by neuro-majority expectations. In essence, it reduces social interaction to a game of follow-the-leader and then penalises autistic people for not playing it “correctly.”

One glaring oversight is the study’s failure to account for Gestalt Language Processors (GLPs) - a majority of the autistic population. GLPs process language and social interactions in chunks, often relying on pre-learned scripts to navigate new situations. If a GLP participant was placed in this entirely novel context without a prepared script to guide them, their engagement would naturally be more cautious or inconsistent. This isn’t a sign of social deficiency—it’s an entirely reasonable response from someone whose communication style thrives on familiarity and context. By failing to identify and control for GLPs in the participant pool, the study skews its findings, interpreting what may be a natural processing difference as evidence of a broader social impairment.

And let’s talk about the broader assumptions baked into this methodology. The entire experiment seems to hinge on the idea that social interaction can be distilled into synchrony and imitation, as though the most meaningful connections in life involve mimicking someone else’s hand gestures. What about the diversity of ways humans communicate? What about emotional resonance, shared interests, or genuine understanding? Apparently, if you’re not playing follow-the-leader with the right amount of enthusiasm, you’re doing it wrong. The lack of imagination here is staggering. Real-world social interactions—whether neurodivergent or neuro-majority—are far richer and more complex than this study’s simplistic tasks could ever capture.

By clinging to such a narrow and neuro-majority-centric model of communication, the study fails to respect the richness of autistic interaction styles. Worse, it sets up autistic participants to fail by forcing them into a framework that disregards their natural strengths and approaches. If the goal was to understand autistic sociality, this design is less a step forward and more a leap into misunderstanding.

Bidirectional Responsibility: The ‘Double Empathy Problem’

The Double Empathy Problem flips the script on traditional notions of autistic social deficits, highlighting how misunderstandings arise from a mutual disconnect between autistic and neuro-majority individuals. This concept is central to deconstructing the University of Montreal study, which subtly implies that the responsibility for bridging the communication gap lies solely with autistic people. By focusing on differences in synchrony and turn-taking, the study reinforces the idea that autistic individuals need to adapt to neuro-majority norms. But let’s pause here: if the neuro-majority struggles to understand autistic people, why isn’t that considered their deficit?

The study completely ignores this bidirectional dynamic, framing autistic behaviours as deviations from an ideal rather than legitimate expressions of a different social logic. Autistic communication often prioritises clarity, sincerity, and connection over performance or adherence to arbitrary norms like eye contact or scripted turn-taking. Yet, the researchers focused on how well autistic participants could mimic neuro-majority synchrony patterns—a one-sided test that ignores the responsibility of neuro-majorities to meet us halfway. This perpetuates a lopsided narrative: when neuro-majorities misunderstand us, it’s our “deficit,” but when we misunderstand them, it’s still our “deficit.” Convenient, isn’t it?

And let’s talk about alexithymia, a co-occurring condition in more than half of autistic individuals (myself included), which complicates emotional expression and perception. The study fails to consider the potential influence of alexithymia, a condition that significantly shapes how some autistic individuals engage emotionally. Alexithymic individuals often lean toward being highly empathic, experiencing intense emotional resonance with others even when they struggle to identify or articulate their own feelings. In a study like this, where participants are isolated and interacting through a screen with no real energy connection or shared emotional context, these individuals are likely to feel adrift. This isn’t a failure of social skills—it’s a natural response to a setting devoid of the emotional cues and connections that typically anchor their interactions. By ignoring the role of alexithymia, the study strips away critical nuance, conflating the natural struggles of alexithymic participants with broader autistic traits. The result is a design that measures conformity to neuro-majority norms, not authentic interaction or connection.

From a neurodivergent perspective, this study’s methodology misses the mark entirely. True empathy is a shared responsibility, requiring effort and openness on both sides of any interaction. Yet neuro-majorities often fail to grasp autistic emotional states, not because we are inscrutable, but because they haven’t been taught to value or decode our unique ways of expressing and perceiving emotions. This isn’t our failure; it’s theirs. By framing their study around unidirectional measurement—asking how well autistic participants synchronise with neuro-majority norms—the researchers overlooked an opportunity to explore mutual adaptation. They could have illuminated how both groups might learn from and connect with one another. Instead, they doubled down on a tired trope: that the burden of understanding belongs solely to autistic people.

So, what do we end up with? Another study that pathologises autistic people for not mirroring neuro-majority behaviours whilst giving neuro-majorities a free pass for their inability—or unwillingness—to meet us halfway. The Double Empathy Problem isn’t an issue with how autistic people communicate; it’s a glaring indictment of society’s unwillingness to question its own biases and assumptions. Perhaps it’s time for neuro-majorities to expand their understanding, to learn our language as much as they expect us to learn theirs. Empathy, after all, isn’t a one-way street—it’s a shared journey, and the map is only complete when everyone contributes.

From Prevention to Oppression: Where the Study Leads

The framing of autism as something to be “prevented” rather than supported reveals a deeper issue embedded in this study and others like it. When researchers focus on aligning autistic traits with neuro-majority norms, they are not championing inclusion or understanding—they are tacitly endorsing the eradication of difference. Prevention is a word that carries the weight of eugenics, implying that autistic lives are burdens to be minimised or avoided entirely. It shifts the conversation from how we can build a society that values neurodiversity to one that treats it as a problem to be solved. This isn’t just a semantic issue—it’s an ethical one. A society that sees difference as something to be prevented rather than accommodated inevitably reinforces systems of oppression.

This kind of thinking is already reflected in Canadian policies, where Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD) has been increasingly offered to disabled and neurodivergent individuals in the absence of meaningful support. Rather than investing in services that allow autistic people to thrive—accessible housing, specialised healthcare, inclusive education, and employment opportunities—society offers them the door out. When life becomes unbearable due to systemic neglect, MAiD becomes less of a “choice” and more of a coerced response to a society that refuses to meet basic needs. It’s a modern reflection of utility-based thinking: if someone’s life doesn’t align with societal expectations or productivity norms, why invest in it?

And here’s the real absurdity: instead of building the metaphorical ramps that would allow autistic individuals to access the world equitably, we’re stuck debating whether the problem lies with the stairs or the people who use mobility aids. Prevention over accommodation sends a clear message—difference is unwelcome, and it’s easier to remove the individual than to confront the systems that exclude them. It’s not just lazy; it’s dehumanising.

Studies like this one, with their fixation on “synchrony” and neuro-majority benchmarks, feed into this oppressive framework. They frame autism not as a valid neurotype but as a deviation to be corrected or erased. The irony, of course, is that what’s actually needed is the opposite: acceptance, accommodation, and a society willing to embrace all ways of being. Until that shift happens, “prevention” will remain a dog whistle for exclusion, and the systems that prioritise it will continue to fail those who need support the most.

A Call for Paradigm Shift

It’s time for a radical shift in how autism research is conducted—one that starts by centring neurodiversity and amplifying autistic voices. For too long, studies have treated autistic people as subjects to be studied, measured, and corrected, rather than as experts on our own lives. A neurodiversity-informed approach means involving autistic researchers in meaningful ways, particularly on issues that directly affect us. Imagine if the people designing these studies actually understood autistic communication, processing styles, and lived experiences. Better yet, imagine if Institutional Review Boards (IRBs) included autistic members who could veto this kind of garbage before it ever got approved. The question isn’t “How can autistic people better synchronise with neuro-majorities?”—it’s “Why are researchers still wasting resources on studies that reinforce harmful narratives instead of funding what autistic people actually need?”

A neurodiversity-informed framework would reframe the entire research process. Instead of treating autistic traits as deviations to fix, we could focus on the structural barriers that prevent autistic people from thriving. Autistic individuals face 80%+ unemployment rates across the Global North and widespread housing insecurity—where are the studies investigating solutions to those systemic issues? Why aren’t researchers asking us directly what would improve our lives? Imagine if the time, money, and energy spent on measuring how well we play follow-the-leader were redirected into research on creating equitable education systems, workplace inclusion strategies, and accessible housing. Wild idea, I know.

It’s not just the research priorities that need fixing; it’s the incentives driving them. Right now, funding tends to flow toward studies that promise to “fix” autism or bring us closer to neuro-majority norms. What if we funded acceptance as enthusiastically as we fund conformity? What if studies were rewarded for respecting autistic perspectives, rather than pathologising them? The truth is, autistic people don’t need more studies telling us how we don’t measure up. We need studies—and researchers—willing to listen, support, and advocate for a world that values us as we are.

Final thoughts …

The University of Montreal study is yet another example of research that misses the point entirely, rooted in outdated assumptions and framed through the lens of neuro-majority superiority. By treating autistic traits as deviations from a supposedly ideal norm, the study reinforces harmful stereotypes and fails to consider the unique strengths and perspectives that autistic individuals bring to social interactions. Its methodology—focused on synchrony and imitation—ignores the depth and nuance of real-world communication, reducing interaction to a one-sided performance that benefits only the neuro-majority. The study’s failure to account for critical factors like Gestalt Language Processing and alexithymia further underscores its lack of nuance, conflating natural differences with deficits.

But it’s the implications of this research that are most troubling. By framing autism as a condition to be corrected or prevented, studies like this feed into a broader societal narrative that views autistic lives as lesser or burdensome. This isn’t harmless science; it’s a continuation of systemic oppression, reflected in everything from inadequate support systems to policies like Canada’s MAiD, which offer death over dignity. At its core, this study isn’t about understanding autism—it’s about maintaining neuro-majority comfort at the expense of autistic authenticity.

Here’s the truth: we’re not failed neuro-majorities; we’re successful autistics. Our ways of communicating and connecting aren’t deficits—they’re simply different. And maybe it’s the neuro-majority that needs to step up its game, learning to meet us where we are rather than demanding that we conform to their narrow expectations. If researchers want to do something useful, they can start by challenging the systems that exclude us, rather than reinforcing them. Until then, autistic people will keep thriving in ways that defy their metrics, reminding the world that we are, and always have been, perfectly normal autistic people.