Each year, April is marked globally as Autism Awareness Month – a time when we are called to face the realities and statistics with open eyes and to commit to doing more: more inclusion, more compassion, and more action – whether we are parents, educators, or therapists.
As the number of children diagnosed on the autism spectrum continues to rise, it’s impossible to ignore the question of their safety and well-being in a world that, despite growing awareness, still often struggles to truly meet their needs.
Acts of bullying such as exclusion and ostracism are the reality for many children – and for those with special needs, the risk is exponentially higher. Yes, there has been progress in recognizing neurological differences. Yes, there is greater representation and visibility.
But the hostile, polarizing discourse that has intensified in Israeli society over the past two years seeps into our social DNA – affecting how we treat one another and our ability to embrace those who are different.
Autism is no longer an abstract term, and rising diagnosis rates have brought increased awareness. Autistic children are integrated into mainstream classrooms, special education classes exist in almost every school, and television and film portray authentic stories of life on the spectrum.
Children who are diagnosed receive support systems that help them navigate the neurotypical world at their own pace and according to their capabilities. They find appropriate frameworks and, most importantly, a name for the differences they experience daily.
This helps them feel like part of a community, find “their people,” and understand themselves and their place in the world in a deeper, more compassionate way.
But there’s another group – likely larger than we realize – of children who fall through the cracks every day. They are different, stand out, and have unique interests that rarely align with those of their peers.
They may be unusually sensitive, dreamy, or perceived as “spacey,” or conversely, overly serious and mature in a way that might alienate other children. Many of them crave friendship, someone who shares their passions and offbeat humor, someone who sees what makes them different as cool and fascinating.
These are the ones I call the invisible autistics
The autism spectrum has evolved. It is expanding every year, encompassing a growing range of neurological profiles with diagnoses that are crucial not only for academic or behavioral development but also for emotional well-being, self-identity, and mental health.
Many autistic adults diagnosed later in life describe profound feelings of alienation throughout childhood and adolescence – feelings that shaped who they became and left deep emotional scars. A late diagnosis, even if very late, often provides the validation and inner peace that invisible autistics seek their whole lives.
All they want is for someone to tell them why they are different – and that it’s perfectly okay to be who they are.
Those who grow up undiagnosed live in our neurotypical world while constantly masking their authentic selves. They suppress their unique sensory and emotional needs, investing every ounce of mental energy in hiding their autism, trying to blend into a society that still struggles to give them space without demanding they “normalize.”
Masking, now widely recognized, leads to autistic burnout – a state of extreme exhaustion caused by the relentless effort of people with autism to keep up with a world that doesn’t fit their true nature.
These “late bloomers” who choose to get diagnosed later in life often share similar stories: bullying, social exclusion, or, at best, deep loneliness during childhood. Their difference – unexplained, unnamed, and unsupported – left them exposed to neurotypical expectations they simply couldn’t meet as children.
Even today, they are everywhere – in every school, slipping through the cracks. Maybe because they get good grades. Maybe because they don’t disrupt the class. Maybe because they’re labeled as “just weird” or “extremely shy.”
But they are not like everyone else. They know it, but they don’t know what it means. They don’t “move the needle,” and the education system misses them – along with the chance to offer them and their families the right, accurate, and urgently needed support that can mean the difference between thriving and fading.
Principals, teachers, counselors, and coordinators – the sacred responsibility of identifying these children lies with you.
It is up to you to refer them to the right professionals and to search for the answers they need – answers that will ensure their safety, give them the support system they deserve, allow them to fulfill their unique potential, and help them walk a path toward an authentic life, unburdened by masks.
The writer holds a PhD in Literature, is a behavior analyst, and the head of communication kindergartens at Tipuli. https://tipul-li.com/