Book Reflection: Unmasking Autism by Devon Price

Devon Price’s Unmasking Autism is one of the most accessible and validating reads I’ve come across on neurodivergence. It cuts through the clinical jargon and gets to the lived reality of what it means to be autistic in a world that often demands performance over presence. Price doesn’t just define autism. They dig into the emotional labour behind masking, the pain of invisibility, and the long, slow journey toward reclaiming your true self.

Reading it felt like someone had written my story before I even knew how to tell it.

“Masking is not deception. It’s self-protection.” — Devon Price, Unmasking Autism

I’ve been masking for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories of this duality was during a parent–teacher night in junior school. My teacher described me as quiet, shy, always watching, rarely speaking — a model student who barely made a sound. My parents were confused. “Really? Freddy? She never stops talking at home.”

They couldn’t reconcile these two versions of me. But what they didn’t see was that I was terrified of getting things wrong, of drawing attention to myself, of being perceived. At school, I stayed small. At home, I finally felt safe enough to release the pressure.

That was the beginning of my masking.

When I started at NAS (National Art School), I saw it as a fresh start. I had spent high school quietly observing the socially successful — how they moved, spoke, connected. I’d studied it like a script. When uni began, I pulled together everything I’d learned and created a new persona: bright, confident, magnetic. And it worked. People came to me. I made friends effortlessly.

My look also became part of the mask. I shaved off my eyebrows. I wore glitter and bold colours. My makeup became drag-inspired, theatrical, expressive. And in that art school environment, it resonated. It made me stand out in a good way.

But the energy it took to maintain that version of myself caught up with me.

“When an Autistic person masks their traits for long enough, they can lose the ability to function in basic ways. This is Autistic burnout.” — Devon Price

By my final year of NAS, I was burnt out. I had no language for it at the time. I just knew I had nothing left. Every bit of energy had gone into being social, being upbeat, being everything I thought I needed to be. I wasn’t diagnosed yet. I just thought I was failing.

Then COVID hit. I had just graduated, and suddenly I was completely alone. For the first time in years, there was no one to perform for. No reason to keep the mask on. That time — isolating, confronting, quiet — is when I began to see myself more clearly. I was officially diagnosed with autism in 2020, and slowly, I began the process of unmasking.

It wasn’t easy. In therapy, we spent years talking about the mask and how deeply entangled it was with my self-worth. I didn’t even know what unmasking meant at first. I just knew that my need to be liked and accepted had been running the show for far too long.

“The mask becomes so automatic that the Autistic person starts to believe that their true self is too much, too intense, or not lovable.” — Devon Price

And yet... masking has brought me success. I’ve landed every job I’ve applied for. I’m comfortable with public speaking, especially when I have a script. I’ve won awards at MECCA for positivity and customer experience. I know how to perform the “best version” of myself — and that version is often very well received.

But it’s not the whole story.

Now, I use masking more intentionally. I see it as a tool, not my identity. I still mask in professional spaces, but around my boyfriend, my family, and a few close friends, I can finally drop it. That might mean I’m monotone. I might not make eye contact. I might be quiet or blunt. And that’s okay. I’m not performing. I’m just being.

That’s what authenticity means to me now. Not constant self-disclosure or vulnerability. Just the freedom to choose when I perform and when I rest.

“You are not too much. You are not too intense. You are exactly enough — just as you are.” — Devon Price

Unmasking Autism gave me the language I didn’t know I needed. If you’re autistic, it will likely feel like a mirror. If you’re not, it’s a much-needed lens.

Because the people around you might seem fine — even thriving — but you don’t see the mental gymnastics they’re doing to be palatable. You don’t see the burnout. You don’t see the energy it takes to simply exist in public.

Neurodivergent people are constantly adapting to a world that wasn’t designed with us in mind. What would it look like if we didn’t have to?