For a very long time after getting my autism diagnosis at age 20, I assumed I had low support needs. I was originally diagnosed with Asperger’s when that was still a thing and thought that meant I had low support needs.

People who don’t know me well tend to assume I’m “very Autistic” because of the way I speak, while people close to me think I’m only “mildly Autistic” because they see me as smart, capable, and independent.

I think part of the reason why I initially identified as having low support needs was because I was so sick of being infantilised and underestimated by people who didn’t understand me. I wanted to prove that I was much more intelligent and capable than they thought.

I only began to consider that I might have medium/moderate support needs just last year, after reflecting on how my culture and environment shaped my perception of support needs:

I’ve always assumed that I had low support needs. But I recently realised that my support needs only appear low in the context of my country, Singapore. It’s socially acceptable here to live with your parents as an adult, so I’ve always had help with household chores, cooking, errands, answering phone calls, and more. Public transport is super convenient and easy to navigate, so driving is unnecessary. Small talk with strangers and acquaintances isn’t common. Most things in this country are run in an orderly and predictable manner.

Since I live with my parents, my mom handles phone calls for me. She also usually accompanies me to medical appointments and speaks on my behalf. When I’m shopping or ordering food on my own, I can usually get away with pointing at what I want (or nodding/shaking my head) without having to speak much.

Had I lived in another country, I’d probably be considered medium support needs instead. People who have low support needs in other countries probably wouldn’t get diagnosed or even realise they’re Autistic if they grew up in Singapore. (But that’s just personal speculation based on my experiences.)

Even after this realisation, I hesitated to fully identify as having medium support needs, instead positioning myself as “low-medium support needs.” Despite finding it hard to relate to many low support needs Autistic people on social media—while identifying more with those with higher support needs—I attributed this to cultural differences.

In Singapore, many doctors and therapists still think you can only be Autistic if you have high support needs, an intellectual disability, and require 24/7 care. It’s very hard to get diagnosed here if you don’t fit into that narrow view of autism. (The fact that I only got diagnosed at 20 and not at an early age despite my obvious traits is proof of this!)

Once I started connecting with more Autistic people in my country, I realised how different I was from those with low support needs—and how much I had in common with those with medium support needs. I think the biggest difference is that it’s impossible for me to fully mask or be perceived as neurotypical or non-disabled by others—being semi-speaking alone ensures that I’m always perceived as disabled.

Our lived experiences also tend to be vastly different (I acknowledge that this is just my generalised observation; it’s important to remember that experiences vary within all support need levels). Growing up, my strengths were rarely acknowledged, leading to many opportunities being denied to me. My struggles were scrutinised and pointed out as my defining traits, resulting in a lifetime of infantilisation and dehumanisation. In contrast, based on what I understand from some friends with low support needs, their experience was often the opposite: their strengths defined them, while their struggles were dismissed or overlooked. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to argue who has it “worse,” but to show how these different experiences lead to distinct kinds of harm.)

My friends with low support needs also sometimes struggle to understand why I’m so comfortable sharing such vulnerable aspects of my life online. Given my selective mutism, I didn’t have the privilege of speaking up for myself for most of my life. Sharing my stories online is the most effective way I have to finally get my “voice” heard. It’s also my way of reclaiming control over my narrative, after years of believing I couldn’t trust my own self-perception and that others had a more accurate view of me. The vulnerability I show in my posts isn’t because I’m looking for validation, but rather to finally share my truth.

I think it’s perfectly natural for our understanding of our own autism to evolve over time. I’m now recognising that I have medium/moderate support needs, not “low-medium.” I’m still processing what this means for me; all I know for now is that I’ll no longer compare myself to others with low support needs.