Addressing SV Against Autistic People Through a Neuroaffirming Lens

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⚠️ Content Warning

This article discusses sexual violence against autistic people. It includes references to abuse, trauma, and systemic harm. Please prioritise your wellbeing — feel free to pause, skip sections, or step away at any time.

Introduction

Sexual violence is a profound violation of autonomy and safety. Yet for autistic people — particularly autistic women, non-binary, and gender-diverse individuals — the risk is not only higher but compounded by systemic failures in recognition, protection, and response. Autistic people experience sexual violence at alarming rates, but these realities are often rendered invisible by both autism research and broader social narratives (Douglas & Sedgewick, 2023; Fox, 2024). Instead of centring autistic survivors’ voices, dominant frameworks have too often pathologised or dismissed their experiences. This blog post affirms autistic ways of knowing, advocates for relational and systemic change, and calls for a cultural shift that recognises safety as a fundamental human right, not a privilege reserved for those who conform to neuronormative expectations.

Understanding Social Vulnerability in Context

Vulnerability to sexual violence is created, not inevitable — it emerges from the layers of systemic marginalisation, relational exclusion, and ableist social structures that autistic people are forced to navigate daily (Fox, 2024). This vulnerability is not inherent to autism itself; rather, it is the result of how society fails to accommodate, affirm, and protect neurodivergent ways of being. One of the most critical elements shaping this vulnerability is communication differences. Autistic people often communicate in ways that are more direct, literal, or concrete and may not easily detect or interpret hidden social cues, unspoken relational dynamics, or manipulative intent. While these communication styles are valid and meaningful, they exist within a world shaped by neuronormative assumptions, where ambiguity, subtlety, and social performance are often used to navigate relationships. Perpetrators may deliberately exploit these mismatches — for instance, by taking advantage of an autistic person’s trust in explicit agreements or by manipulating moments of sensory or emotional overwhelm to silence resistance or evade accountability.

Compounding these risks is the experience of social exclusion and loneliness, which many autistic individuals report from early childhood. Being systematically excluded from peer groups, relational opportunities, or social spaces fosters not only isolation but also a profound hunger for connection. When genuine relational safety is scarce, individuals may become more vulnerable to those who offer conditional "acceptance" or affection, masking exploitative motives. Here, social exclusion and exploitation are deeply intertwined — not because autistic people are inherently naive, but because chronic social deprivation leaves anyone, neurodivergent or not, grasping for belonging. This makes it all the more urgent to create affirming communities where autistic people can experience mutuality, respect, and relational safety outside of coercive or conditional dynamics.

Another subtle but powerful layer of vulnerability comes from internalised ableism — the deeply ingrained societal message that autistic ways of thinking, sensing, and relating are inferior or broken. When autistic people grow up absorbing these messages, they may begin to doubt their own instincts, override their embodied signals of discomfort, or hesitate to assert boundaries in situations that feel unsafe. Over time, this erosion of self-trust can weaken the natural protective responses that might otherwise help someone reject coercive or dangerous situations. Importantly, this is not a reflection of personal weakness but a reflection of social harm — a relational wound that builds over years of having one's valid needs, perceptions, and boundaries dismissed or pathologised.

Finally, autistic people face profound barriers in accessing protective education about consent, relationships, and sexual safety. Mainstream sex and relationship education often assumes a neurotypical audience, failing to address the unique learning needs, communication styles, or sensory realities of neurodivergent individuals (Douglas & Sedgewick, 2023). Even worse, some autistic individuals experience outright harmful education — teachings rooted in compliance, "good behaviour," or social conformity, which encourage masking and appeasement rather than authentic boundary-setting. Without clear, tailored frameworks for recognising coercion, understanding consent, or identifying healthy relational dynamics, autistic people are left to navigate complex interpersonal landscapes with fewer tools and supports.

When we zoom out, we can see that these layers are not isolated — they are interlocking systems of vulnerability. Preventing sexual violence against autistic people is not simply about teaching autistic individuals about how to hold healthy boundaries and navigate consent — it is about dismantling the systemic conditions that erode relational safety, weaken self-trust, and isolate neurodivergent people from community-based protections. Addressing this vulnerability requires a collective commitment to reshaping educational practices, rebuilding social networks, and transforming cultural narratives about autistic lives.

The Connection Between Autism and Increased Risk of Sexual Violence

Research paints a concerning picture, autistic individuals — particularly women and gender-diverse people — experience significantly higher rates of sexual assault and coercion compared to non-autistic peers (Douglas & Sedgewick, 2023). What makes these rates even more concerning is the pattern of repeated victimisation autistic people face over the lifespan — not isolated incidents, but recurrent harms compounded by the structural marginalisation they encounter in multiple social arenas (Fox, 2024).

Critically, the issue is not only the high prevalence of violence — it is also the profound failure of response systems when autistic survivors seek help. Time and again, survivors report that their disclosures were misunderstood, minimised, or outright dismissed because their trauma responses did not align with neuronormative expectations (Fox, 2025). An autistic survivor may shut down, lose access to verbal speech, script memorised lines, or appear unusually calm under stress — not because they are unaffected, but because these are protective neurological responses (Douglas & Sedgewick, 2023). Yet too often, these responses are misread by police, healthcare providers, and even therapists as signs of “not distressed enough,” “unreliable,” or “lacking credibility,” leading to failures not just of care but of justice.

Autistic survivors are not just navigating the aftermath of sexual violence — they are forced to navigate the disbelief. Disbelief is not passive; it is an active form of institutional betrayal that compounds trauma, isolates survivors further, and reinforces the very systems that allowed harm to occur in the first place. It is not enough to count rates of victimisation; we must also reckon with how institutional practices — shaped by ableism, neurotypical norms, and systemic bias — create secondary wounding for autistic survivors who seek support.

Challenging Harmful Myths About Sexual Violence and Autism

For autistic survivors of sexual violence, the harm doesn’t end with the assault itself — it continues in the ways their experiences are misunderstood, dismissed, or reshaped by harmful social myths. One of the most damaging myths they face is the belief that “if they didn’t verbally say no, it wasn’t assault.” This notion profoundly fails to capture the reality of what many autistic survivors go through in moments of threat. Faced with overwhelming sensory input, danger, or confusion, autistic survivors often experience freeze, shutdown, or scripted compliance responses — automatic neurological survival strategies that prioritise moment-to-moment safety over verbal protest or physical resistance. These are not signals of consent; they are protective adaptations to survive trauma (Fox, 2024). Yet autistic survivors frequently describe how their experiences are invalidated because the systems around them — legal, cultural, therapeutic — narrowly define resistance in neuronormative, verbal terms, leaving them vulnerable to disbelief and dismissal.

Another painful and pervasive myth is the idea that autistic survivors “should have known better” or “should have recognised danger.” This belief places blame squarely on the survivor and ignores the larger relational and structural dynamics that shaped their vulnerability. Many autistic survivors share that, from a young age, they were socialised to override their own discomfort, to mask distress, and to conform to social expectations — even when it came at the expense of their own boundaries and instincts (Fox, 2024; Fox, 2025). They recount moments when, deep down, something felt wrong, but years of being told they were “too sensitive,” “misreading situations,” or “overreacting” made it hard to trust their inner alarm bells. This is not a personal failing; it is a relational wound, shaped by ableist social conditioning that devalues autistic ways of sensing, knowing, and expressing.

Barriers to Disclosure and Accessing Support

Even after surviving the profound trauma of sexual violence, autistic individuals often encounter further harm when they seek help — a second wave of trauma delivered not by perpetrators, but by the very systems designed to offer care and protection. One of the most significant barriers they face involves communication mismatches. Police and healthcare providers often expect survivors to recount their experiences through clear, linear, verbal narratives. Yet autistic survivors may communicate through fragmented or delayed memories, scripted or rehearsed responses, shutdowns, or a flattened affect that masks internal distress. Perhaps most insidious is the bias and disbelief autistic survivors face when they do attempt to disclose. Professionals unfamiliar with neurodivergent trauma responses may dismiss serious allegations, minimise harm, or interpret autistic expressions of distress as “inappropriate” or unreliable (Douglas & Sedgewick, 2023).

Beyond communication, the environments where disclosures are typically made — such as crisis centres, emergency departments, or police stations — are frequently overwhelming, disorienting, and inaccessible for autistic people. Bright lights, loud sounds, chaotic spaces, and unfamiliar social interactions can trigger sensory overload or shutdown, inhibiting a survivor’s ability to engage fully in the disclosure process. These environmental factors are rarely acknowledged in mainstream service design, yet they play a crucial role in shaping whether autistic survivors can safely and effectively access help.

Importantly, these barriers are not isolated incidents or unfortunate oversights — they are symptoms of a broader pattern of systemic neglect rooted in neuronormative and ableist assumptions about whose voices are valid, whose distress matters, and whose safety is worth protecting. Addressing these failings requires more than surface-level adjustments; it demands a structural reimagining of how care, justice, and healing are extended to neurodivergent survivors.

What Needs to Change: Individual, Relational, Systemic, and Cultural Shifts

True empowerment is not about teaching autistic people to mask better, behave more neurotypically, or fit into harmful systems. Instead, it is about building relational confidence, self-trust, and community support — shifting the focus from individual adaptation to collective transformation. At the heart of empowerment is the strengthening of embodied self-trust: teaching that discomfort, shutdowns, overwhelm, and refusal are not overreactions but valid, protective signals of danger. Autistic people have often been socialised to doubt or override these instincts, but healing and safety require reclaiming them as trustworthy and worthy of respect. True empowerment also depends on fostering peer-led relational education: creating spaces where autistic people can learn from one another about healthy relationships, boundaries, consent, and healing in ways that align with neurodivergent relational styles.

Importantly, these individual and community practices must be supported by transformational change at systemic and cultural levels. Empowerment cannot flourish in isolation from broader shifts in how society responds to neurodivergent lives. Professional education and accountability are essential — training police, courts, healthcare workers, and therapists to recognise autistic trauma responses such as shutdowns, scripting, and non-verbal distress, and embedding neuroaffirming practices across all stages of crisis intervention, evidence-gathering, and therapeutic care. Critically, these reforms must be led or co-designed by autistic people to ensure they reflect lived realities.

Likewise, consent and boundaries education for autistic communities must move beyond compliance-based frameworks. Effective education centres self-trust, sensory awareness, body autonomy, and relational red flags, using diverse and accessible communication methods (visual, written, sensory-adapted) to teach practical, affirming relational skills. Explicitly addressing the differences between shutdown responses and consent, and providing strategies for exiting unsafe situations, equips autistic people with tools they can use on their own terms.

Support services, too, require a radical redesign: creating sensory-considerate, flexible, and relationally safe spaces for disclosure and healing. Offering alternative communication methods, ensuring service environments are co-created with autistic communities, and prioritising autonomy and agency at every step are essential for building services that truly serve.

Finally, perhaps the most transformative layer of change is challenging cultural narratives — shifting the conversation from “fixing” autistic people to dismantling the ableist structures that allow violence to persist. This includes questioning gendered expectations that pressure autistic individuals, especially women and gender-diverse people, to accommodate or endure harm. It also involves amplifying autistic voices in media, education, advocacy, and policymaking, ensuring that those most affected are shaping the stories we tell about safety, violence, and justice.

Conclusion

Sexual violence against autistic people is a consequence of systemic ableism, cultural neglect, and relational injustice. Empowerment begins when we dismantle the structures that deny autistic people their full humanity. It grows when we affirm neurodivergent ways of resisting, surviving, and thriving. It flourishes when autistic survivors lead the way, not by conforming, but by rewriting what safety, justice, and healing look like on their own terms. It is about making space for all minds, all bodies, all experiences — with dignity, with agency, with care.

Support Services

If this article has brought up difficult feelings, resources and support are available:

• 1800RESPECT (Australia)
  24/7 confidential support for people impacted by sexual assault, domestic or family violence.
  📞 Call 1800 737 732 | 🌐 Visit 1800respect.org.au

• Lifeline Australia
  Crisis support and suicide prevention.
  📞 Call 13 11 14 | 🌐 Visit lifeline.org.au

• National Disability Abuse and Neglect Hotline
  A free, independent service for reporting abuse or neglect of people with disability.
  📞 Call 1800 880 052 | 🌐 Visit jobaccess.gov.au/complaints/hotline

• Blue Knot Foundation
  Support for adult survivors of complex trauma, including childhood sexual abuse.
  📞 Call 1300 657 380 | 🌐Visit blueknot.org.au
  

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References

Douglas, S., & Sedgewick, F. (2023). Experiences of interpersonal victimization and abuse among autistic people. Autism, 28(7), 1732–1745. https://doi.org/10.1177/13623613231205630

Fox, J. (2024). The impact of intersectional disadvantage on autistic women’s experiences of interpersonal violence: A narrative review. Autism in Adulthood. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/10.1089/aut.2023.0100

Fox, J. (2025). Neuro-queering feminism: Creating space within feminism to address autistic experiences of gender oppression. Feminism & Psychology, 35(1), 75–93. https://doi.org/10.1177/09593535241306532