Kids at school threatened me—I masked who I was for 34 years (2024)

I always felt different. Fitting in was never an option. Growing up in a disciplined, Black and Southern household, I was instilled with morals and values I emulate today.

I was raised to have good manners, respect the elderly, and be grateful for what I have. I learned from childhood to adulthood that my parents are not my friends. In their eyes, I will always be a child. A phrase I heard often by them was, "You haven't walked this Earth longer than me." Ultimately, I try to be mindful of how I talk to my parents as an adult. They will not hesitate to correct me if I cross the line.

The desire to obtain acceptance during middle school, high school, and college were my obsession. Two major examples of me trying to fit in was attempting to be friends with the popular girls and wearing name brand clothes. With the popular girls, I tried to hang out with them at school and show interest in their conversations about clothes, hair, and boys.

It was hard to keep up with this form of hiding "masking" because I did not care about those sorts of things. I longed to do anything so I could showcase my child qualities. Wearing name brand clothes did not help the bullying to stop either. My peers could tell I was trying really hard to fit in with them.

Being an undiagnosed Black girl of Autism and ADHD was horrifying. I got threatened by girls to be thrown in trash cans, had pine cones thrown at me, and rumours spread around school.

At my middle school, some female teenagers were already having sex unlike me. I started liking boys around seventh grade. A girl that wanted to be popular spread a sexual rumour about a boy I liked, I was so embarrassed. All of it led to several suicide attempts at 13, depression, and extremely low self-esteem. Poetry was my outlet from those dark places in my life. I felt seen, known, and heard.

My work life was rough and liberating. I worked a total of 20 jobs in the space of 15 years. I never stayed in a job for more than two years due to my meltdowns. I would get very mad. Either I would lash out at a coworker or supervisor because I had difficulty explaining myself or I cried a lot to not flip on someone, but I loved teaching and working in public schools.

In October 2023, I got my official diagnosis of Autism and ADHD at age 34. The turning point leading to my diagnosis was a conversation with my mother. I have no idea what we were talking about, but my mother mentioned that I could be autistic.

The results gave me the courage to share my story as a neurodivergent Black woman in America. There is such a negative stigma around my conditions.

In hindsight, I realised that I was able to mask my traits for 34 years due to my parental upbringing. My parents put in time to prepare me for the real world. My dad is a retired high school teacher at the same school I was taught in. Looking back, I am glad my dad stayed there. He taught me consistency, hard work ethic, and passion. My dad loves to teach and I love poetry.

I spent a lot of time with my father throughout the years. Whether it was going to the library in the summer for elementary school all the way to daddy-daughter dates, my dad was patient with my quirks.

I felt like I could be myself around him, but when I left his presence, I had to put on my pretend mask of intelligence.

My mother taught me how to conduct myself in public from her various job experiences. She had no problem checking me whenever I got out of line or behaved inappropriately. This is why no teachers or doctors detected my ADHD. My mother is still this kind of lady. I appreciate her more in my adulthood because I became resistant to challenging circ*mstances.

I remember asking my mom why she seemed to give me such a hard time. She told me, "The world is not going to treat you like an egg, why should I?" This may sound harsh to some people, but I think my mom saw something I could not see in myself. She saw the potential to do great things. My parents really shaped who I am.

These days, it feels mind-blowing to know I spent years unaware of my Autism and ADHD. I recognize the purpose behind all of it now. I began writing poetry at 13 and since then, it has become my passion. Since my autism is basic, it makes the poetic messages richer and valuable. I cannot write on my own. The poetry is divinely given by God.

Naturally, writing is very difficult for me. I have trouble spelling words correctly and I get confused in retaining definitions if I do not repeatedly view them. The best way to describe receiving poetry from God is like talking on the telephone.

Although I masked my ADHD and Autism to try to fit in, it was an epic fail. Unmasking has freed me to truly live. I think we fail when we try to be someone we are not.

I do believe in acting civilised in public, but masking my identity was extremely overwhelming. I am ready to unravel. I am not going to hide my Autism and ADHD. I am not going to treat them as diseases.

Traci Neal is a neurodivergent poet living in Columbia, SC. She has been featured in the New York Times, Mahogany (Hallmark) writing Community, and NPR- Poetry Moment.

All views expressed are the author's own.

As told to Carine Harb.

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