The Double Empathy Problem and Why Autistic People Are Not the Communication Problem
- 2 days ago
- 7 min read
Amy Noyes is a Neurodivergent-Affirming Coach and Consultant, specializing in late-identified Autistic and ADHD adults who are struggling with unmasking, burnout, and self-advocacy. Amy is passionate about creating consent-based space to guide clients in reconnecting with their needs, autonomy, and true selves.
A psychologist called an autistic therapist about a client they shared. The psychologist was conducting an autism assessment and wanted to know whether the client met the criteria. The questions came fast and clinical. Did the client lack reciprocity? Did they struggle with a typical back-and-forth conversation? Were there differences in eye contact and body language?
The therapist paused. They knew this client well. Their sessions were warm and easy. There was no failed conversation or missing reciprocity. There was a person who felt safe enough to be exactly who they were.
So, the therapist said so. The client did not appear to have difficulties in those areas. Then, because it felt honest, the therapist mentioned that they were autistic too.
Afterward, they worried. Had they just cost the client a diagnosis? But the more they sat with it, the clearer it became. The client’s communication was not impaired in their sessions. The client simply shared a communication style with the therapist. Their sessions felt good because no one was being asked to mask.
The person who appeared to struggle to connect during that phone call, the one who lacked warmth, curiosity, and conversational reciprocity, was not the autistic client. It was the assessor.
I think about this scenario a lot because it turns the usual story inside out. We are told that autistic people are the ones who cannot communicate. What if that was never the whole truth?
Not a deficit, but a mismatch in communication style
Autism is clinically defined, in part, by persistent differences or deficits in social communication and social interaction. That language is embedded in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, commonly known as the DSM, and it shapes how everyone, from teachers and doctors to family members, interprets an autistic person’s behaviour.
When something goes wrong in a conversation, the autistic person is often assumed to be the source of the problem. But there is another way to understand it, and it has a name. British autism researcher Damian Milton called it the double empathy problem.
The idea is simple, and it changes everything. Communication breakdowns between autistic and nonautistic people may not always be caused by a one-sided deficit. They may result from a mismatch. Two people with very different ways of processing and experiencing the world are trying to understand each other, and both may struggle.
The difficulty can run in both directions. For years, this was primarily a theory. There is now research supporting important parts of it.
Researchers led by Catherine Crompton at the University of Edinburgh conducted a study using a method similar to the game of telephone. A story was passed from one person to the next, and the researchers measured how much information survived the chain.
They tested three types of chains: autistic chains, nonautistic chains, and mixed chains containing autistic and nonautistic participants.
The autistic chains transferred information as effectively as the nonautistic chains. The mixed chains experienced greater difficulty maintaining information across the chain.
Read that again because it supports the central argument. Autistic people can communicate effectively with one another. In this study, they transferred information just as effectively as nonautistic participants did with other nonautistic participants. Greater difficulty appeared when communication crossed between different neurotypes.
Related research found that people generally reported stronger rapport during interactions with others of the same neurotype. Autistic participants also reported feeling more like themselves when interacting with other autistic people.
The difficulty was not located entirely within one person. It emerged, at least in part, in the space between two different ways of being.
The labour no one sees
If the breakdown is mutual, you might expect the effort to be mutual too. Often, it is not.
Autistic and ADHD people are frequently the ones asked to change. Learn to make eye contact. Manage your tone. Make small talk. Read body language. Suppress the stim. Build executive function strategies to meet social expectations that were never designed for you. We become fluent in a second language, the neurotypical one, and we speak it all day.
That fluency seldom runs the other way. Nonautistic people are rarely asked to learn our language. The bridge gets built from one side.
Building it costs something. Masking is not free. When you spend years sensing that your natural self is not welcome and rearranging yourself to make other people comfortable, the cost may emerge as anxiety, exhaustion, autistic burnout, and a quiet, corrosive sense of shame.
Jim Sinclair wrote about how autistic people may feel, from a young age, that the world around them wishes they were different. You carry that. It can become isolation. It can become self-doubt.
For many autistic people, it can become internalized ableism, the belief that the problem really is you. It is not simply you. It was never simply you. It was a mismatch between neurotypes, but only one person was repeatedly asked to fix it.
Advocacy is how you stop bridging alone
This is where self-advocacy comes in, and I want to be precise about what it means. Self advocacy is not being difficult. It is asking for what you need. It is setting a boundary that you can maintain. It is naming an access need. It is telling the truth about how you communicate instead of performing a version of yourself that drains you.
It carries real risks. You might be judged. You might be dismissed. You might be called too sensitive or told that you simply need to try harder socially. Those responses may reflect the mismatch. They are not a verdict on you.
Advocacy is how you place the responsibility for building the bridge back where it belongs, in the middle, where both people can meet.
Here are a few places to start. Use clear scripts. You do not owe anyone a performance. “I process information better in writing, so I will follow up on this conversation with an email.” “I need a minute before I answer that.” “Direct feedback works best for me. You can be straightforward.”
Ask for accommodations without apologizing for them. Written agendas. Cameras turned off. A quieter room. Additional time. These are not merely favours. They may be the conditions you need to do good work and maintain healthy relationships.
Choose authenticity over masking where it is safe to do so. Not everywhere and not all at once. Safety matters, and you get to decide. Every space where you can safely unmask is a space that may demand less of your energy.
What the other side of the bridge can do
If you are reading this and you are not neurodivergent, the double empathy problem is good news because it means you may be holding half of something you once thought belonged to us alone. You can learn how we communicate instead of judging it.
When directness sounds rude to you, consider that it may reflect honesty rather than disrespect. When someone’s sensory needs or communication style confuse you, become curious instead of reaching an immediate conclusion.
Ask open questions. Assume difference before you assume deficit. Practise the flexibility you may have been expecting from us all along.
None of this is charity. Mutual understanding is better for everyone in the room. The bridge holds more weight when it is built from both sides.
Meeting in the middle
Here is what I want you to take from the game of telephone. If you are neurodivergent, you have the right to be heard without becoming someone else first. Your way of communicating is not inherently broken. It is a language. It is valid, and the people worth knowing will make an effort to learn some of it.
If you are not neurodivergent, understanding begins with humility. It begins with listening. It begins with being willing to consider that you may have been wrong about where the problem was located.
We were not necessarily speaking incorrectly. We were speaking a different language in a world that often asked only us to learn theirs.
That can change. It changes the moment we stop expecting one side to do all the crossing and start meeting in the middle instead.
We can do it together
Here at ND Friendly Life, we can explore this together.
Instead of carrying the weight of every misunderstanding as though it were yours alone, you can explore the double empathy problem in a safe coaching environment. We can help you recognize that a communication breakdown does not automatically represent a deficit within you. It may reflect a mismatch, and you may have been expected to take responsibility for resolving all of it.
We can do this together. We specialize in supporting autistic and ADHD adults who were diagnosed or began identifying as neurodivergent later in life and who recognize these patterns of communication breakdown in their own experiences.
Through individual coaching, couples and family coaching, and supported self-assessment, we help you understand your neurodivergent experiences and build a life and career that work with your needs rather than against them.
All sessions are offered online, serving clients in Vermont and worldwide.
Want to learn more?
Damian Milton’s original paper on the double empathy problem, “On the Ontological Status of Autism: The Double Empathy Problem,” published in 2012.
Catherine Crompton and colleagues’ research on information sharing between autistic peers, “Autistic Peer to Peer Information Transfer Is Highly Effective,” published in 2020.
Nick Walker’s “Throw Away the Master’s Tools: Liberating Ourselves from the Pathology Paradigm,” which explores the neurodiversity paradigm and the idea that there is no single correct kind of mind.
Curious to learn more? Whenever you're ready, you can learn more or book a free consultation on our website.
Read more from Amy Noyes
Amy Noyes, Autistic and ADHD Coach and Advocate
Amy Noyes is a late-identified Autistic, ADHD, and PDA individual with a deep commitment to helping others discover and embrace their authentic selves. They understand how living in environments not designed for neurodivergent ways of being can lead to internalized ableism. Amy believes that uncovering one’s neurodivergence can unlock self-understanding, self-acceptance, and the ability to create spaces that truly support our brains. With degrees and professional experience in Autism Studies, Transpersonal Psychology, and Social Work, Amy has dedicated their life to supporting anyone who wants to better understand their true self.
