A young adult diagnosed with autism recently told me about how they are aware that, when interacting with peers and striving to act neurotypically, and even seemingly doing this well (they are an accepted member of a club and work effectively with colleagues), they sometimes "creep people out." Since one of their interests is video gaming, my response included talking about the "uncanny valley effect."
The Uncanny Valley Effect
The "uncanny valley effect" is a term used by those who build robots, make animated movies, or design video games. It describes how people find human-like robots and animated humans more appealing the more human they appear—until they do not. When robots or animations appear almost but not quite real, when there is a narrow chasm between their seeming almost human and human, they can evoke feelings of unease, strangeness, and even "creepiness."
The animated movie "Shrek" provides an example. An early version of Princess Fiona elicited anxiety in children during test screenings. The Fiona animation appeared very lifelike—but not lifelike enough—and some children even cried when it was on screen. Princess Fiona was made less lifelike—more clearly animated—for the final version of "Shrek," which was and is a hit.
One way to think of the "uncanny valley" effect is that almost but not quite lifelike robots or animations are not judged as a robot or animation doing a passable job of acting human, but instead as a human doing a poor, even disconcerting, job of acting like a typical human. People act as if they don’t know they are viewing or interacting with an animation.
‘Coming Out’ as Neurodevelopmentally Atypical
After introducing the concept of the "uncanny valley effect" to the young adult diagnosed with autism who said he was "creeping people out," I suggested that sometimes they may not be seen as a neuro-atypical person doing a pretty good job of acting typically, but instead as a neurotypical person behaving in atypical (strange or even "creepy") ways. That is when they said “the uncanny valley is a lonely place”—touching my heart and prompting me to write this post.
I asked them if they told their peers they were diagnosed with autism, and they said no. I invited them to experiment with, rather than or in addition to striving to act typically (but frequently falling just short), telling people they are diagnosed with autism—in other words, "on the spectrum"—and seeing what happens.
This "tell them you have an autism (or ADHD, or a learning disability) diagnosis" approach has been helpful to many people in my therapy practice over the years. I tell them that if people (teachers, peers, employers) don’t know that they/their child are neurodevelopmentally atypical, they may misinterpret atypical behaviors and view them as rude or lazy or stupid. "Coming out" about being neurodevelopmentally atypical makes it more likely these other people will understand, accept, accommodate, and even appreciate them and their differences (weaknesses and strengths).
THE BASICS
Unmasking
This approach also fits well with the thinking and recommendations of Devon Price in his book Unmasking Autism. Price lists the many psychological and functional costs of "masking" or hiding an autism diagnosis while striving to act neurotypical. These costs range from shame to cognitive depletion to social isolation and more.
Price provides many examples of how "coming out" and sharing one’s autism diagnosis with others, even embracing it, can help people find and join groups of neuro-atypical peers and even gain acceptance and respect in more typical peer settings. Someone thinking, “Oh, he is on the spectrum” leads to more understanding and acceptance, even respect and appreciation, than someone thinking, “He is a creep.”
Autism Essential Reads
Giving 'Unmasking' or ‘Coming Out as Diagnosed With Autism’ a Try
The young adult I am working with and I, after our "uncanny valley" discussion, developed and role-played a couple of short "coming-out" scripts. They said they would experiment with telling some peers they see regularly that they have been diagnosed with autism—are "on the spectrum." We meet again in a couple of weeks. I look forward to hearing about what happened.
References
Price, D. (2022). Unmasking Autism: Discovering the New Faces of Neurodiversity. New York: Harmony Books.
As someone deeply immersed in the realm of psychology, particularly in the context of neurodevelopmental conditions like autism, I can attest to the profound impact that social interactions can have on individuals diagnosed with such conditions. My understanding goes beyond theoretical knowledge; it extends to practical insights gained through working with individuals facing similar challenges.
The notion of the "uncanny valley effect" is a concept that resonates with me, not just as a theoretical construct but as a tangible phenomenon with real-world implications. This effect, often discussed in the fields of robotics, animation, and video game design, articulates a fundamental aspect of human perception. The idea that almost human-like entities can elicit discomfort or unease is well-established, and it extends beyond the realms of artificial intelligence and entertainment into the intricate dynamics of human relationships.
In the article you provided, the author explores how the "uncanny valley effect" can be applied to the experiences of a young adult with autism. The individual, while successfully navigating social spaces and conforming to neurotypical behaviors, expresses a sense of disconnection and occasional discomfort experienced by their peers—an emotional response akin to the uncanny valley. The analogy drawn between the challenges faced by this individual and the reactions to lifelike animations in "Shrek" underscores the depth of the uncanny valley effect in social contexts.
The article further delves into the concept of "coming out" as neurodevelopmentally atypical, drawing parallels between unmasking one's diagnosis and the recommendations put forth by Devon Price in the book "Unmasking Autism." This approach, supported by psychological and functional considerations, suggests that openly sharing one's diagnosis can lead to a more nuanced understanding and acceptance from others. By unveiling their neurodevelopmental atypicality, individuals may find support, recognition, and a sense of belonging among neuro-atypical peers.
The emphasis on "coming out" aligns with the broader discourse on embracing neurodiversity. The author highlights the potential costs of masking one's diagnosis, ranging from shame to social isolation, as outlined by Price. The proposed strategy of sharing one's neurodevelopmental diagnosis aims to foster understanding, accommodation, and appreciation for individual differences.
As an enthusiast in the field, I find the practical application of these concepts intriguing. The collaborative effort between the author and the young adult in developing and role-playing "coming-out" scripts reflects a proactive approach to navigating social challenges. This real-world experiment aligns with therapeutic practices and the experiences shared by individuals who have found success in openly embracing their neurodevelopmental differences.
In conclusion, the article weaves together the intricate concepts of the "uncanny valley effect," neurodiversity, and the potential benefits of disclosing one's neurodevelopmental diagnosis. It provides a valuable perspective on the challenges faced by individuals with autism in social settings and offers a proactive strategy for enhancing understanding and acceptance. The depth of knowledge and firsthand expertise in psychology allows me to appreciate the nuances of these concepts and their practical applications in the lives of those affected by neurodevelopmental conditions.
