Introduction

Attitudes, opinions, practices, and laws that devalue disabled people and privilege non-disabled people are motivated by ableism (terms used follow Bottema-Beutel et al., 2021). This phenomenon is deeply embedded in political, economic, and cultural structures, and manifests itself in a variety of forms that affect both individual perceptions and social practices. Campbell (2001) defines ableism as:

A network of beliefs, processes, and practices that produces a particular kind of self and body (the corporeal standard) that is projected as the perfect, species-typical, and therefore, essential and fully human. Disability then is cast as a diminished state of being human (Campbell, 2001, p.44).

The above is one of the most popular definitions. However, the term ableism originated in the civil rights movements in the United States and United Kingdom during the 1960s and 1970s to challenge prejudice and discrimination against people whose bodily structures and abilities were considered ‘deficient’. Since then, several definitions have come to light, most of them centered on ‘body normativity’. For example, Sanmiquel-Molinero and Pujol-Tarrés (2020) conceptualize it as a set of hegemonic social practices that project the ‘body standard’ as the norm. In the same line, Hutcheon and Wolbring (2012) describe ableism as a socio-cultural preference for certain abilities. This constitutes a discriminatory perspective that generates negative labeling of people who have a non-normative body morphology, disqualifies them, devalues them, dehumanizes them (Mareño Sempertegui, 2021). In this sense, ableism promotes the idea of a ‘perfectible’ body, even further stereotyping, creating prejudice, discrimination, and social oppression towards disabled people (Bogart and Dunn, 2019), to the point of believing that it is better not to have a disability than to have one (Sharma and Hamilton, 2019).

Nevertheless, when the condition is not physical—and the body may be normative or the appearance is unexpected—society’s network of beliefs may be distorted, and this is the case with autismFootnote 1. Some autistic people, especially when they have a late diagnosis as occurs with autistic women and gender dissidents, must put up with phrases such as ‘How can you be autistic, if you…’ (Garcia-Molina, 2024). In this type of invisible disability, ableism is present in the form of questioning the need for specific support. This repeated demand for explanations about the required adaptations is a common experience among those who navigate in a normative space from bodies that, to outsiders, appear normal (Moral Cabrero et al., 2020). If being a woman—or gender dissidentFootnote 2—is added to the invisible condition of disability, the denial of the experience of disability and equal rights becomes in ableism (Olkin et al., 2019). In fact, ableism intersects with other systems of oppression, including racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia (Gillborn, 2015). First introduced by Crenshaw (1989), intersectionality as a theoretical model examines the ways in which different social identities, such as race, gender, or disability contribute to more systemic discrimination (Cho et al., 2013; Huang et al., 2020). This means that ableism is compounded by experiences such as sexism (Bottema-Beutel et al., 2021). In fact, in school environments, the intersectionality of gender and disability is often ignored, and power dynamics particularly affect disabled girls and women (Ferreira, 2023; Palombi, 2012), as is the case of autistic girls and gender dissidents (Cohen et al., 2022). Consequently, when the condition is invisible, ableist assumptions—such as expecting individuals to conform to neurotypical norms or doubting the legitimacy of autism without visible markers—can lead individuals to forgo disclosing their diagnosis. This decision is often driven by fear of being disbelieved, stereotyped, or subjected to discrimination and stigma (Cage and Troxell-Whitman, 2020; Daniels and Mandell, 2014; Farsinejad et al., 2022; Garcia-Molina, 2024; Thompson-Hodgetts et al., 2020).

For this reason, the past school experiences of autistic women and gender dissidents who received a late diagnosis can offer valuable insights into the true nature of ableism, especially when there is no physical condition, even no diagnosis at that time. In Spain, autistic women are frequently misdiagnosed, with current estimates suggesting a diagnostic ratio of approximately one woman for every four men (Confederación de Autismo España, 2024). Many women receive a diagnosis later in life (Garcia-Simon et al., 2025; Gargallo-Nieto et al. n.d.). To date, there is no available data regarding gender-dissident individuals in Spain. Thus, these narratives can highlight unheard forms of marginalization and incomprehension as a result of ableism in school, characterized by an educational approach based on the idea of the standard student, that is, a normative student in learning processes, the behavioral dimension, and socio-affective development (Moya, 2022).

Ableism at school

Different authors (Aydemir-Döke and Herbert, 2022; Conover et al., 2017; Dolmage, 2017; Olkin et al., 2019; M. Price, 2011) have identified several forms of microaggressions in schools that generate power dynamics (Friedman, 2019). One of the manifestations of ableism is what has been termed ‘ableist microaggressions’, covert forms of discrimination, which were defined by Pierce et al. (1978) as behaviors that communicate contempt or insult someone for being a member of a social group. Later, Bell (2013) defined them as brief and common verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults that may have a detrimental or unpleasant psychological impact on the target person or group. These acts, incorporated into everyday interactions, are sometimes difficult to identify because of the subtlety with which they are developed by people in the closest environment, such as health professionals, and specialized services, or strangers (Kattari, 2020; Nadal et al., 2014; Palombi, 2012). Microaggressions in school can comprise denial of individual identity, patronizing treatment, invasion of privacy, desexualization or de-genderization, infantilization, minimization of the abilities of disabled students, and being treated with low expectations as dependent and incompetent (García-Santesmases, 2017; Nario-Redmond, 2019; Storey, 2007). These attitudes again reinforce the notion that disability is something to be ‘corrected’ or ‘normalized’, rather than understood and valued as a part of human diversity (Campbell, 2001). So, as Wolbring and Guzmán (2010) have argued, schools can be key environments where both implicit and explicit attitudes towards disabled people are formed and perpetuated. These attitudes often reinforce ableism through policies, structures, practices, and discourses that do not fully recognize the rights and needs of these students (Moya, 2022). Thus, the school—far from being a transformative agent (Freire, 2017) with respect to the prevailing belief system towards disability—would continue to perpetuate, reproduce, and encourage ableism (Parekh, 2023; Wolbring and Guzmán, 2010). This occurs regardless of whether the student’s disability is visible or explicitly identified—as in the case of autism.

Autistic students are used to experiencing exclusion from peers, such as social rejection, victimization, loneliness, and bullying (Cappadocia et al., 2012; Cribb et al., 2019; Garcia-Molina, 2022; Goodall, 2018; Rowley et al., 2012; E. Williams et al., 2019; Zeedyk et al., 2016); as well as strained relationships (Eisenhower et al., 2015) and disproportionate exclusionary discipline by teachers (Miller and Meyers, 2015). In most cases, the autistic participants described stress and fear of being stigmatized because of their peers’—and teacher’s—ableist conceptions of autistic people (Cohen et al., 2022). Thus, school would become a place where initial decisions about disclosure would be made, depending on the stigma that teachers and peers would have associated with autism (Botha et al., 2022). Consequently, even when the autistic students had no formal diagnosis in their school days—as is the case of all our participants—camouflage would be the most used strategy in response to stigma (Perry et al., 2022).

Ableism in Spanish schools

In addition to the negative attitudes shaped in daily life, common practices in schools often reinforce social hierarchies and perpetuate the segregation of disabled students. The Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (Informe de La Investigación Relacionada Con España Bajo El Artículo 6 Del Protocolo Facultativo, 2017) concluded that Spain’s education system violates the right to inclusive, quality education by maintaining a model that excludes, among others, autistic students. Currently, autistic students are generally integrated and have access to inclusive education, with 80% attending mainstream schools (Confederación Autismo España, 2021). Despite advances in educational inclusion, schooling rules and procedures that perpetuate the marginalization and segregation of students with disabilities/differences have continued to be applied (Rodríguez Díaz and Sánchez Padilla, 2022). So, although there are laws moving in the right direction and ongoing reforms (see I Plan de Acción Estrategia Española En Trastorno Del Espectro Del Autismo 2023–2027, 2023), a significant proportion of autistic students, who could benefit from mainstream education, remain enrolled in special education schools (Latorre Cosculluela et al., 2023; Sisto et al., 2021). In addition, in our region of Spain, autistic students enrolled in mainstream schools are often placed in specific classrooms known as ‘Communication and Language-Specific Units’. In these classrooms, between five and eight autistic children spend part of the school day with other autistic children, and they spend the rest of the school day in their regular classrooms with non-autistic students (Conselleria d’Educació, Cultura, Universitats i Ocupació, 2024). The methodology of ability groups, although pioneered 20 years ago, limits the opportunities for social interaction and joint learning, reinforces stigmas and prejudices that associate disability with incapacity (Nario-Redmond, 2019; Parekh, 2023), causes marginalization, and restricts access to resources and support that could promote inclusive education (Lalvani, 2015; Reber et al., 2022). Despite the absence of a formal diagnosis—as was the case for our participants throughout their schooling—students with any type of support needs (even if minimal, e.g., learning difficulties) were placed outside their regular classroom, in separate classes with specialized teachers aimed at reinforcing academic skills and behaviors (Caballero, 2024). Consequently, the invisibility of disability/diversity in the classroom, where differences are avoided and not openly discussed, contributes to a lack of understanding and reinforces negative stereotypes. In fact, by not explicitly addressing disability, schools reinforce the idea that it is shameful or inappropriate (Bialka et al., 2023).

The current study

The attitudes and practices discussed above can contribute to the internalization of ableism by autistic students (Ostiguy et al., 2016), leading to stigma, exclusion, and social marginalization. This not only undermines their self-esteem, emotional well-being, and academic performance but also limits future opportunities for success, perpetuating a cycle of inequality, discrimination, and barriers to full societal participation (Brittain et al., 2020; Cohen et al., 2022; Conover et al., 2017; Kattari, 2019; Keller and Galgay, 2010; Lalvani, 2015; Nario-Redmond, 2019; Ostiguy et al., 2016; Palombi, 2012; Parekh, 2023; Reber et al., 2022; Sharma and Hamilton, 2019; Storey, 2007; Timberlake, 2020).

Understanding the concept of ableism and how it manifests in vulnerable groups, such as the autistic community with the intersectionality of gender–disability, is critical for educational agents. It is important to focus on what autistic individuals’ first-hand experiences are telling us so future teachers can be trained to reduce—hopefully, eradicate—ableist practices and attitudes. To our knowledge, few studies specifically focus on how autistic women and gender dissidents perceive ableism, when remembering their school years after receiving their diagnosis. None of them focused on the Spanish population. Revisiting the past with the perspective of a late diagnosis of autism offers a unique insight into group dynamics and teacher-student relationships. The absence of an appropriate diagnosis during one’s schooling does not shield autistic students from ableist aggression; on the contrary, it can result in a lack of adequate support while simultaneously increasing their vulnerability to abuse (Ballester-Galí and Garcia-Molina, 2025).

Building on these considerations, and adopting an anti-ableist and fully neuro-affirmative approach—aligned with the social model of disabilityFootnote 3, the disability affirmation modelFootnote 4, and the neurodiversity paradigmFootnote 5—this study aims to answer the following research question: How do Spanish autistic women and gender-dissident individuals with a late diagnosis experience ableist attitudes and practices in educational settings, particularly from teachers and peers?

Method

Participants

Five Spanish (Caucasian) individuals (three women, one person of non-binary gender, and one gender-fluid person), aged between 24 and 36 years (M = 28.4, SD = 4.9) with a late diagnosis (M = 26.6, SD = 4.6), participated in the study. They all met the following criteria: (a) identified as woman or gender dissident, (b) had a late diagnosis, (c) were over 18 years of age, and d) spoke Spanish. Participants with co-occurrences were included, as Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (also Inattentive Type), giftedness, and learning difficulties—among others—are prevalent in the autistic population.

All participants were enrolled in mainstream schools and spoke about experiences from around 10–15 years ago. The participant Marina was included because she is also the mother of a four-year-old autistic girl who is currently in school. To achieve our main aim, participants were excluded if they were engaged in home-schooling. Demographic information was collected from participants and subsequently explained. For instance, to assess socioeconomic status, we inquired about annual income, occupation, household composition, and the participants’ age at the time the events they described took place. See Table 1 for more information. Most participants are identified under a pseudonym to guarantee confidentiality. However, two participants chose to use their real names, as they are public advocates and viewed this as a political and affirming act of self-representation.

Table 1 Participants’ demographic information.
Full size table

Procedure

Ethical approval for this research was granted by the Ethics Commission of the Universitat Jaume I of Castelló (CD/08/2022) and the Universidad Católica de Valencia.

An advisory group within our research team—comprising mostly autistic or neurodivergent members: students, professionals, researchers, and collaborators—co-developed and reviewed a semi-structured interview (see more information in the Participatory Methods section). Therefore, topics reflected the research objective, previous research, clinical knowledge, and the priorities of members of the autism community (Gowen et al., 2019). The primary objective of the interview was to invite people who have experienced ableism to build a story about their experience within the educational system. Thus, we proposed generic categories that we were interested in covering—to avoid asking specific questions unless the participant required it. These categories, were: (i) demographic data (age, gender, cohabitation, employment situation, etc.), (ii) diagnosis, (iii) relationships, and (iv) ableism. For the current study, data were extracted from all the blocks, although the most specific ideas and questions about ableism in school were situated in the third and fourth blocks: personal experiences in the educational system, relationships during the school stage (teachers, peers, friends…), and ableist practices in the educational system.

The participants for the interviews were contacted via emails sent to associations, foundations, and entities within the Valencian Community, Spain, as well as through direct contact with people involved in this research.

In total, five participants were contacted and included in the study. All were interviewed face-to-face: in-person (N = 1) and via video call (N = 4), depending on their preference. All responses were open-ended and participants were able to explain their experiences without any time or word limits. Most interviews lasted approximately two hours, with one extending beyond three hours. The in-person interview was conducted in a safe and anticipated environment (through pictures), allowing her to participate in the way she felt most comfortable (e.g., configuring the space according to her sensoriality, use of fidgets…).

Generally, a main researcher (IG-M or RS-P) conducted the interview with the support of another through the video call chat—but not recording—who indicated whether any information was missing and made notes on key aspects. These aspects were registered in a document for each participant—called “Serendipity”—for the process of future analysis. All interviews were recorded with a tape recorder (only audio) for subsequent transcription and analysis. After transcription, the participants were offered the possibility of obtaining a transcribed copy of their interview in case they wanted to modify or eliminate any part of it—or all of it.

Participatory methods

We conducted this study as part of the research team Autistic women and gender-dissident individuals, coordinated by the first author of this manuscript. More than half of the individuals involved in the project are autistic. At the outset, an advisory group was established, consisting of autistic researchers (N = 3), collaborators (N = 3), a participant from the current study, and a translator. This group contributed to the development of the research design and the semi-structured interview schedule, ensured ethical and ideological alignment with community priorities, and supported the interpretation of findings from a lived-experience perspective. In addition to academic dissemination through peer-reviewed manuscripts, we regularly share our results with the broader public through workshops, videos, and community meetings.

Data analysis

Data analysis was carried out through the Reflexive Thematic Analysis approach within a participatory model Braun and Clarke (2006, 2023), focused on identifying both semantic and latent meanings in the data, following an inductive approach. Namely, the coding and development of the themes were directed by the content of the data itself, remaining closely aligned with participants’ own understandings of their experiences, and interpreting what lay beneath the surface of participants’ accounts.

The process that was considered for the analysis consisted of an iterative process of going back and fore between the data, codes, and patterns, involving several rounds of refinement and team discussion, guided by Braun and Clarke’s six-phase framework (2006, 2023):

  1. (i)

    Familiarizing with the data, taking notes and highlighting the aspects considered most relevant, generating an interconnection of the data set.

  2. (ii)

    Coding the entire data set (in our case, through Atlas.ti software), which was done multiple times to identify and refine the meaningful features most closely aligned with the study’s initial aims and conceptual framework.

  3. (iii)

    Generating initial themes, which, once analyzed in depth, led to the development of the potential themes.

  4. (iv)

    Reviewing these themes, which involved combining, refining, or discarding them as needed.

  5. (v)

    Defining and naming the themes to articulate the ‘story’ of each one.

  6. (vi)

    Producing the final report by integrating the analytic narrative with illustrative data extracts.

It should be noted that this process was recursive, with movement back and forth between different phases. Thus, in the reflexive approach we adopted, the core values lay in critical reflexivity, collaborative discussion, and the interpretive sensitivity of the research team. Most participants are identified under a pseudonym to guarantee confidentiality.

Positionality statement

The authors prefer not to disclose their identities in detail. However, among them is a formally diagnosed autistic individual, and all authors identify as neurodivergent with extensive experience working with autistic people. Their personal knowledge and lived experiences have significantly shaped the study’s overall approach and their relationships with participants.

Results

Theme and subtheme names can be seen in Fig. 1.

Fig. 1
figure 1

Themes and subthemes.

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Theme 1. Internalizing the label: from attitudes to practice

This theme reflects how ableist attitudes and practices by both teachers and peers can make participants believe and internalize that they are less, inferior, or deficient.

Subtheme 1.1. Ableist attitudes and microaggressions

The microaggressions experienced by the participants represent a broad spectrum, ranging from infantilization “Alba is stupid, poor thing, we have to protect her” or humiliation, such as “We know that Alba is ‘special’ and it has always been difficult for her, and she has passed and with flying colors, and what about you?” (Alba), to more subtle and normalized forms of social exclusion. These microaggressions were often perpetuated by peers but went unnoticed or unaddressed by teachers, who remained passive in the face of peer discrimination and rejection. In Thea’s case, exclusion was systematically enacted during collaborative classroom tasks, where she was consistently left out of group work:

If there are five who don’t want to go with me [in a classroom group activity], obviously they’re going to say they don’t want to be with me, then I’ve always been the last one to be picked or no one wanted to do the work with me. So the teacher always had to say, ‘Come on, Thea, just join this group…’[with apathetic resignation] (Thea).

This led all the participants, even without an autism diagnosis at this time, to experience the stigma of being different without fully understanding what was happening. “Since I was a little girl I felt very different, but the psychologist always said ‘there is something, but it is so little, so little, that I do not know what it is’” (Thea). When a suspicion of autism arose, societal clichés and stereotypes would emerge, and the participants would hear and internalize these perceptions, complicating the understanding of their own identities: “Autism you? No, not autism, it is very difficult for you to relate (a psychologist to Thea)”, or:

Autism is an invisible thing then… I have heard a lot of typical phrases like ‘we’re all somewhat autistic’, ‘that happens to me too’… […] Before knowing if (my daughter) was on the spectrum, I told my daughter’s teacher that I was autistic, to speak to me more literally. She answered: ‘You? You can’t be, you’re a doctor!’ (Marina).

Added to this difference were other comments from teachers and peers who blamed them for being the way they were: “A priest on Ash Wednesday, while putting the ashes on me, told me ‘study more, do your homework, try harder’ and a teacher asked people to pray for me every day in class […] The teachers told me not to upset my parents and to go to Vocational Training” (Alba), internalizing not only the guilt, the low expectations toward them, and that less was expected of them, but in the end, they came to think badly of themselves: “I wondered if maybe I was a bad person” (Laura).

Subtheme 1.2. Common ableist practices

Some of the common practices described by the participants, far from helping them, were seen by their peers as undeserved ‘privileges’, a term used ironically by Alba to reflect how others reacted to her supports: “this also generated jealousy and envy […] because I had therapy appointments during school time” (Alba). However, these reactions were less about envy in the strict sense and more about peer discomfort with visible differences, which often manifested as bullying or mockery. What was framed as ‘special treatment’ frequently became another reason for social exclusion and ridicule. For instance, Alba recalled being routinely placed in the last row “so that no one could see how bad I was doing”, which reinforced her sense of shame and invisibility.

Similarly, Thea described how taking exams with additional support led to further stigmatization:

I had already noticed that I was learning a little bit slower than the rest, but it turns out that I was even more visible because, in addition to the fact that I took longer to do the multiplications, for example, they made me do the exams with the work in front of me. Then it was one more reason for my colleagues to laugh at me. So, it was like, okay, you’re helping me to finish the exam, but I don’t know if you’re really helping me… (Thea).

This reflects how school assessments, even when adapted, can reinforce ability hierarchies and stigmatization when accommodations are not framed within a culture of inclusion.

Other practices described as ableist included repeated testing and the emphasis on performance-based assessment: “the number of [standardized] tests they made me take every year” (Thea), “even now, when I see a blank booklet [referring to a test] I get anxious” (Marina). These practices reinforce ability-based hierarchies and perpetuate segregation by categorizing students according to their perceived abilities. According to the participants, both standardized tests and autism assessments were described as ableist:

The tests to assess one’s own autism are very ableist. Intelligence tests… all the tests of patterns, numbers, etc. […] I am not going to do well, neither in those that are based on time, I have anxiety, my brain does not work with timing, I do not process so quickly […] Not even the things that are supposed to be good for me are, nor are they adapted, nor are you aware, it is so invisible that you are not even aware (Alba).

Now, whether still in college or having dropped out due to the ableism they experienced in that environment, they relived those days and reflected on the practices they endured:

You are judged by what you are capable [or not capable] of doing… In other words, skills that autistic or neurodivergent people in general find difficult, such as presenting in class, paying attention for a long time, being in noisy environments, and few adaptations at the sensory level… And all of that prevents us from being in this system efficiently. What’s going on? That if it’s a system that judges you by your [dis]abilities, you’re at a disadvantage all the time, you know? (Jamie).

As Marina states: “It’s very unfair that [neurotypical people] have such an advantage, because I’ve tried so hard…”.

Subtheme 1.3. Intersectionality

Intersectionality is often ignored in school environments, not only the intersectionality of gender and disability, as related in Alba’s response: “When I was five years old, a neurologist told me that I looked like I might be autistic, but then it was not contemplated that women could be autistic” (Alba); also, ableism intersects with other systems of oppression, such as homophobia, with some patterns of societal attitudes and popular opinions that lead autistic individuals to completely camouflage their identities:

I have felt invalidated by my gender identity. And, I think that today what most makes me feel alone is the way I experience my relationships [based on relationship anarchy]. Because there is a monogamous norm that applies to all areas of life. So, I do feel that people have a hard time understanding my relational model and I receive a lot of comments like ‘You’ll get over it’, ‘it’s your age’, ‘I don’t understand it’, ‘I couldn’t’… (Jamie).

You think, well, if you’re a girl, you’re expected to be a feminine girl, which I never have been my whole life, truthfully […]. And how do you compensate for the fact that you’re very weird and that you’re a lesbian? Well, if I can’t be a normal girl in general, at least with all these weights that I’m already dragging around, well, at least I’m going to try to be a bit cute, right? So you kind of cling to femininity a lot and such, but that’s not because it might be what came most naturally to me, but because it’s what, at that moment, guaranteed that they would leave me in peace, really (Laura).

In addition, victimization and microaggressions can intensify with intersecting identities, such as the intersection of gender with an invisible condition alongside a visible one, for example:

By the end of Primary school, we often made the typical group work murals. […] It was very difficult for me to pick up a marker (because I can’t see very well) and if you add to it that I have to paint quickly and I can’t go outside the lines […]. I do it very slowly and the other one finishes […]. Then the time came when they said: ‘It is not worth doing the work with Thea because she doesn’t do anything’ (Thea).

Although this topic will be taken up again in Subtheme 2.3. Mate crime and bullying, it is important to recognize how peers emphasize the ‘otherness’ to continue targeting them:

They teased (me) for being fat, for being anorexic, for being very weird then for being very lesbian, because I cut my hair like a boy. Then it was already very obvious to everyone that I was weird on another level (Laura).

Theme 2. The schoolyard as a reflection of society

Just as societal hierarchies and power dynamics influence how disabled individuals are treated in society at large, they are likely to be mirrored in the schoolyard. Theme 2 reflects broader societal tendencies to marginalize autistic participants in a small microcosm.

Subtheme 2.1. Teachers are not a safe space anymore

Participants said that they liked to be with the teachers more than their peers in, for example, the schoolyard:

They [classmates] bullied me. So, it was easier for me to relate to the teachers. […] (in the schoolyard) Often the teachers would say to me ‘Hey, why don’t you go with your classmates? You have to be with your classmates, you shouldn’t be here ’ […] If I’m here, I’m sitting on a bench. Nothing bad is going to happen to me because I am with the teachers, so they will not bully me, that is, they will not bother me or insult me. I’m not in danger (Thea).

However, this relationship changed as the participants grew older, and the teachers became an unsafe place, labeling the participants as ‘conflictive’ or with ‘few skills’ both academically and socially, which often led to punishment: “So you say, hey, punished, punished again” (Marina) for not knowing how to act:

The adults in my life (including teachers) were no longer a safe place for me, not at all, I have felt very judged by them all my life. Then no, that is, I no longer felt close to anyone. […] My problem was that I was super dysregulated and what they did was punish me. It was, then: punished without recess, go to the Headmaster… I remember my teachers telling me ‘I don’t know what to do with you, because your problem is not academic’ (Jamie).

Subtheme 2.2. Friendship and belonging to a group

All participants said that they spent their school years without friends, alone in the schoolyard, and that often, if they had any, it was just one friend, with a very intense friendship, but one that often did not afford anything good.

My only childhood friend, I actually stopped going with this little girl because she wrote that […] she didn’t like me […] she really insulted me. For whatever reason. And I was shocked. And I thought: I can’t go back to this girl (Marina).

As they reached adolescence, the participants highlighted the need to adopt a different persona (camouflage): “(my persona) was more like, aggressive, you know? She was the alternative gal, going out with a bloke from high school that was a year older” (Marina), or conforming to the type of person society deemed more appropriate to them—a form of rejection rooted in exclusion, where the dominant social circle decides on students’ behalf where they should belong, often grouping autistic individuals with ‘the others’ (other aspects, other ways of thinking, other ways of feeling…):

Well, I ended up going with the marginalized group, so, I blamed myself in the sense of how annoying, I wanted to be with everyone and I could only be with the marginalized group […] and I can only be the girlfriend of the outcast boy in the class, because of course, since I am an outcast, then (it’s) logical, I say. […] Thus, I was not completely alone in the schoolyard, I was with them, but friends, friends, we were not (Thea).

This narrative reflects both a survival strategy and a deep sense of resignation. Thea’s use of the terms ‘marginalized’ and ‘outcast’ refer to peers who, like herself, were also positioned outside normative expectations. Yet, her blaming herself for ending up with them reveals a form of internalized stigma: she interprets her place in that group not as solidarity but as failure.

Subtheme 2.3. Mate crime and bullying

This subtheme is not included in the Friendship section because the aggressors—who apparently were their friends, were not. In fact, some of the few ‘friends’ the participants mentioned having, actually took advantage of or even bullied them:

From 6th grade in Primary to 4th grade in Secondary school, a ‘friend’ who picked me up every day to go to school together, would constantly slap me upside my head. I assumed that was normal (Alba).

I met them in the playground because I saw it as impossible with the boys. At first, I would try to make a joke or if they insulted me, I would downplay the insults and kind of join in with them like ‘Yes, I’m a natural repellent for men’, or ‘Oh yes, I’m Gollum’ (Thea).

From Primary to, I don’t know, maybe 2nd year of Secondary. Because of the physique issue, for being fat, for being ugly […] and then in adolescence, well, for being very weird. They couldn’t mess with me anymore for being fat because, unfortunately for everyone, I had anorexia, so that’s as far as it went (Laura).

Theme 3. Invisibility of needs, invisibility of identity

This theme emphasizes invisibility as a synonym for going unnoticed, unseen, beyond the margins, not knowing what is happening, or who they really are, and attempting to conform to others’ worlds or, minimally, to avoid bothering them.

Masking in school: invisibility, going unnoticed not only by classmates but also by teachers

Participants felt different: “I already knew I was different to the others” (Thea), which led them to camouflage themselves, not in a social way to make friends or belong to a group, but rather “you end up adapting just because you don’t want any hassle” (Laura), so that it would not be noticeable that they were the ‘weird’ ones, to go unnoticed:

So I have to try so no one notices that I am different or deny, although I know that I am different, deny that I am, to try in some way to fit in, or if not fit in one hundred percent, at least that they pay me some attention (Thea).

Some participants described themselves in the following terms: “I was a plant, […] I wasn’t a burden” (Marina), to the point that no one noticed whether or not they were in class:

(I) am a girl who is also quiet, isn’t a nuisance, doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t seek attention, if I was in class, it was as if I wasn’t, because in reality, you know she’s there because you’ve called the register and you saw her or because you saw her things on the desk. In other words, being in class, I could easily escape from class and no one would notice (Thea).

All participants agreed with Marina when she said, “I entered school to be able to leave”. By this they meant they remembered wanting to endure school simply as a means to an end.

Psychosomatic: when what is unseen becomes visible/physical

Everything described, not only in this topic but in the previous ones, led them to somatize all the stress, emotions, anxiety, and challenges they experienced: “I had a lot of anxiety in class […] the rhythm, the immediacy, the ‘you have to answer now’” (Jamie), which even led to serious problems:

I established a very independent and very self-confident character. Now, I vomited every morning from anxiety, psychosomatized a lot, took medication. Which are all these things you can’t see, right? Out of anticipatory anxiety, because I already had to get into my character and do that, and I wasn’t like that either (Marina).

Other difficulties were described, such as ‘meltdowns’ or ‘burnouts’: “In the end, it’s like a horrible burnout, you can’t take it anymore, and on top of that, you don’t know, well, how to accept support, because that’s being a burden then” (Laura).

Identity

All the experiences they lived and shared have perpetuated situations of exclusion and social marginalization, and has also had impact their self-esteem and identity. Ableist attitudes can affect how they look at themselves: “Ableism influences how you see yourself and is very harmful because you are a child or a teenager” (Alba), and also indirectly, by forcing them to become the person society expects them to be to avoid something worse:

Masking can be a privilege, because in my case, it has allowed me to relate in a more or less normative way, to study a career… But it is also a way to hide your neurodivergence. So, people who cannot mask are going to be extremely violated by society, for reasons… In other words, in the end, ableism is based on capitalism, which is… for the capabilities that you have, for productivity, really (Jamie).

Reaching the point where they have internalized this behavior from school agents to such an extent that they would not want to see their own children go through similar situations due to the pain it could cause them: “The world is pretty terrible for autistic people. I don’t want to bring into the world a child who faces the ableist difficulties that I am facing” (Jamie), or, when they are already mothers, fighting and advocating so that their identities are respected:

“It is an exhibition made so that my daughter, when she is older, does not have to make the effort that I am making. I do it for her. If society comprehends and understands, the upcoming generation will not have to mask” (Marina).

Discussion

The current study aimed to understand how autistic women and gender-dissident individuals recognize ableist attitudes and practices of peers and teachers during their childhood and adolescence.

In their reflective stories about their school days, participants reported both ableist attitudes and practices, as well as instances of internalizing ableist labels imposed on them by others. As argued by Parekh (2023), and Wolbring and Guzmán (2010), these experiences perpetuate, reproduce, and reinforce ableism, regardless of the visibility or explicitness of the student’s disability.

A particularly troubling finding is that participants narrated that some teachers consistently failed to address peer discrimination (e.g., remaining passive), thereby normalizing social exclusion within the school environment (Curd and Nguyễn, 2024). This passivity functioned not as neutral inaction, but as a tacit endorsement of ableist behaviors, allowing exclusionary dynamics to persist unchallenged. Participants described how ableist attitudes—such as infantilization and patronizing treatment—emerged from both peers and teachers, reinforcing one another in a cyclical pattern. These behaviors were reported not as isolated incidents, but as patterns reproduced through the hidden curriculum in which students learned to copy exclusionary practices modeled or tolerated by authority figures. When educators fail to actively frame their responses within a culture of inclusion, they inadvertently contribute to a climate where ableism is not only perpetuated but structurally embedded (Moya, 2022; Parekh, 2023; Wolbring and Guzmán, 2010).

Moreover, ableist practices, such as standardized testing, are highlighted. Participants reflected critically on the numerous intelligence and performance assessments they were subjected to during their school years due to their learning styles or low academic achievement. These tests, rather than providing useful information to support the teaching-learning process for these students, instead promote their segregation and contribute directly to their social exclusion, reinforcing a deficit-based perspective, being treated with low expectations (Moya, 2022; Nario-Redmond, 2019; Storey, 2007).

In addition, we must consider the intersectionality of autistic participants. Their peers often emphasize their ‘otherness’ to further target them. The participants reported that other marginalized identifies (e.g., gender, weight, types of relationships, other visible and invisible conditions, and low-income backgrounds) led them to experience varied social outcomes based on these intersecting identities. This varied treatment includes victimization and microaggressions, as well as significant biases that negatively impact them, perpetuating—even increasing—segregation and stigma (Cohen et al. 2022; Parekh, 2023).

Participants placed particular emphasis on schoolyard relationships. First, the schoolyard often serves as a tool for punishment by teachers—as seen with the common consequence of ‘no recess’—punishing children by removing what they enjoy most when they do not behave as expected. However, the schoolyard is not always a place that students like. In fact, it often reflects the social dynamics present outside the school setting. On the one hand, a space marked by the absence of consistent adult supervision, which makes it a common setting for peer conflict and bullying during ‘playtime’ (Craig and Pepler, 1998). On the other hand, a space where students can observe who is included within peer groups and who remains isolated, positioned outside normative expectations. As reflected in the participants’ narratives, some students found themselves relegated to groups of perceived ‘outcasts’ not as an act of solidarity, but as failure. This may point to what has been described as lateral ableism—a dynamic in which people from marginalized groups unconsciously reproduce ableist norms or hierarchies among themselves (Olkin et al., 2019). In environments where value and inclusion are distributed unevenly, the internalization of low social worth can lead neurodivergent students to see proximity to other ‘outsiders’ as yet another confirmation of their own otherness.

All these attitudes, practices, and experiences lived by the participants affect their identity (Cohen et al., 2022), and at the same time, lead them to engage in masking—a response to the stigma that has developed around autism (Pearson and Rose, 2021). As participants explained, the primary reason for masking—beyond wanting to belong to a group—was to remain unnoticed, to the point where neither teachers nor classmates knew whether they were present in class. As they put it, they would come to school just to be able to leave. This idea is in line with a recent study of Curd and Nguyễn (2024).

These processes of identity formation were not shaped solely by neurodivergence, but also by the gendered expectations imposed on them throughout childhood and adolescence (Cohen et al., 2022). Participants were expected to be ‘good girls’: obedient, compliant, quiet, emotionally available, and physically attractive. Those who did not conform—whether due to their neurodivergent traits, non-heteronormative orientations, or gender dissidence—experienced amplified stigma and greater pressure to mask. The intersection between neurodivergence and gendered norms shaped how they were perceived by others and, more critically, how they came to perceive themselves.

All the situations described were so painful that participants expressed a strong desire to change how autism is perceived by society. Their experiences of exclusion, stigma, and misunderstanding motivated them to advocate for a shift in societal attitudes towards autism, e.g., being activists and openly disclosing their diagnosis…, with the aim that the next generation of autistic individuals will not have to endure the same struggles.

Bringing all the ideas together, the role of the teacher is crucial in shaping students’ educational experiences—regardless of whether or not a formal diagnosis is present. Educators’ attitudes and practices can either support or hinder the inclusion and well-being of neurodivergent students. It is essential, as Timberlake (2020) suggested, for educators to challenge the norms, practices, and policies that perpetuate ableism in schools. Moreover, there is something undeniably systemic in schools that perpetuates ableism. As Chapman (2023) and Russell (2020) suggested, the very foundations of the educational system are historically linked to capitalist ideologies, which prioritize standardization and productivity over diversity. Schools, as institutions built upon these capitalist frameworks, inherently struggle to accommodate neurodivergent individuals, whose experiences and needs deviate from the ‘normal’ body and mind that capitalism demands. To truly dismantle ableism, we must engage in a profound re-evaluation of the foundational structures of schools, which remain incompatible with true inclusivity, especially regarding neurodiversity. As researchers, we may take a step further by developing tools to identify ableism, while also embracing our role as science communicators—offering training and guidance on anti-ableist frameworks for schools.

Limitations and future research

There are some limitations to our study. First, the relatively small sample size—justified by our inclusion criteria, which focused on young Spanish women and gender-dissident individuals with a late autism diagnosis. While the insights provided by our participants offer valuable perspectives, a larger and more diverse sample, including individuals with varied intersecting identities, would be necessary to more fully capture the breadth of experiences within the autistic community. This study highlights the need for more voices to be heard. Future research should prioritize the inclusion of a wider variety of experiences in different educational environments (e.g., university), particularly from individuals across different socio-economic backgrounds, cultures, gender identities, and different conditions or disabilities. Expanding the diversity of participants would provide a more comprehensive understanding of how ableist attitudes and practices affect autistic individuals in various contexts.

Conclusion

This study underscores the critical role that schools play in fostering coexistence and mutual understanding among students, focusing on those memories of autistic women and gender-dissident identities. The participants’ retrospective experiences reveal the need for creating a more inclusive and respectful environment where diversity—understood in its broadest sense, as it is important to remember that the participants had an invisible condition and were not yet diagnosed—is not only acknowledged but embraced. Educators play a crucial role in combating ableism in schools, as they have the power to influence the educational and social experiences of disabled students, but also to foster a school environment that values diversity and supports all students, regardless of their abilities.