14/04/2026
This weekend I went to a flea market. I’d been there years ago, and remember it as being a glorious jumble of stalls, each selling something different. Being there was like being in a treasure hunt with no map, you had no idea what you might find – and that was the point. Expect the unexpected.
Now, however, it was different. As we approached, we saw something curious. The stalls weren’t full of junk anymore. And they weren’t all different. In fact, there was a strange homogeneity. There was stall after stall selling knock-off football shirts, trainers, and not-quite-designer jackets. Sometimes this was interspersed with a stall selling wireless headphones and electronic devices.
At first we hoped that this was just round the edges, and we’d get to the real market soon. But after twenty minutes of pounding the streets we realised that this was the real market now. The junk and the diversity and spontaneity had gone. Everything looked the same.
It was disappointing. We left. We couldn’t really understand how and why this had happened – did anyone actually prefer the football shirts? And why, in that case, was there a need for hundreds of stalls, all selling the same thing? Why had it all become the same?
It made me think about something I’ve noticed happening online. One of the best parts of being a clinical psychologist is the sheer diversity of people who I have met through my work. They tell me the stories of their lives, often telling me about things they have never said to anyone before. They tell me intimate details and trust me not to share. They surprise me – and maintaining my capacity to be surprised is important. I’ve learnt that making assumptions is rarely a good idea. It limits me and it limits those I work with. Even though there’s a temptation to put people into a mould, no one really fits.
My work has shown me that there is no unitary ‘lived experience perspective’, and that we should never generalise from an individual to everyone else. This is particularly true in autism. If you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person goes that saying – and if you’ve heard one story of an autistic life, that’s all you’ve heard.
But online, something strange is happening. Here, there’s a homogenising going on. We’re told there is only one way to think about autism, and that should apply to everyone. Some people’s lived experience is being generalised as if it applies to everyone – and when that happens, we’re losing diversity. It’s become unacceptable to even hear some views, because they are portrayed as harmful or bigoted. They are met with outrage.
The way that social media works facilitates this homogenization. Shaming and fury have a silencing effect. People quickly learn what can be said and what can’t. They keep quiet when they disagree, because they know what could happen. I know this is happening because many people tell me so – quietly, in private spaces. They say ‘I’d never say this where others could hear’.
And in the process, we’re losing the distinctive voices. We’re losing the sheer variation of human experience. And in autism, this really matters, because the breadth of the autism spectrum means that one size will never ever fit all.
When we assume it does, we are going to miss really thinking about what going on. That can do genuine harm. It can lead us to people not getting the help and support that they need. It can mean that we end up back at the start, with stereotypes and restrictive narratives – it’s just that this time, it’s a different set of stereotypes.
Diversity and divergence is the norm for human beings – and if you’re hearing the same story all the time, then there’s probably something wrong.
