Autism and languages: how multilingualism has given me a voice

We are joined by Guest Contributor Abi Appleby, whose recent Autism diagnosis has led her to reflect on her experiences as a multilingual person and the role that languages have played in shaping her identity and self-expression. In this blog, she explores how learning languages provided comfort, confidence and a space to communicate more authentically.

I have recently been diagnosed as Autistic, which has opened a whole new way of understanding myself. I am in a place of acceptance and discovery and feel connected to people around me. But it hasn’t always been that way. As a child, I was quiet and I spent a lot of the time wondering why I didn’t fit in. I didn’t feel at one with the rest of the world. In fact, it could be said that I was a foreigner. My diagnosis has shed light on this identity, and provided insight into feeling a little bit… different.

At secondary school, French grammar became one of my first-to-emerge special interests and throughout my teenage years the French language was a place of joy. The rules of conjugation provided the structure that other learning lacked, making it my ultimate safe place when I needed some control. It was rigid and it was familiar. Not only this, but it was something I was good at, providing a name - and a developing identity - for an otherwise timid and anxious schoolgirl. I followed my passion for French through to my bachelor’s degree, where I also picked up Italian, meaning I could go back to my roots of learning the grammar rules all over again.

Naoise Dolan, writes in Wired Our Own Way (2025) that:

nobody has ever given [her] as hard a time for [her] social mistakes in foreign languages as they do for the ones [she] make[s] in English

Perhaps this apparent acceptance of mistakes when speaking with a foreign accent makes languages a suitable mask to hide behind. This may well be the case for neurotypicals too, but is probably more evident for Autistic people who may experience difficulties socialising and for whom the contrast may be more obvious.

For example, when speaking French, I personally feel less pressure from other people to behave in a certain way, speak a certain amount, say the correct things - and to do all of this coherently and without mistake. The accent provides a scapegoat for my mistakes, perhaps even an excuse for them. And with that, I find a freedom with which I allow myself to learn and improve as I go along, subtracting the perfectionist trait I hold myself to when I communicate in my mother tongue.

Like Dolan, I am not made to feel wrong when I speak a foreign language, but rather praised for making an effort. This makes it easier for me to socialise because I do not often find myself in a freeze response following criticism or error. Another example is that conversations tend to be dominated by the native speaker, which takes away the pressure on me to guide the flow.

This approval and acceptance of mistakes extends beyond linguistic errors, and includes social norms, which is particularly significant for me as someone who struggles to navigate non-verbal aspects of socialising. This is because I find myself on a level playing field with neurotypical language learners: if the culture is new to all foreigners, then I’m not handicapped for not understanding or partaking in social norms, and this offers me reassurance.

Perhaps also coming into play is a sense of control which I exert onto my identity: by choosing to speak a different language, I am making myself the ‘foreigner’, to compensate for the sense of otherness I felt as a child. In other words, the foreign accent matches how I have always felt on the inside, but brings with it a positive spin, this time replacing years of insecurities with power and identity.

But can the foreign accent take it one step further than covering up insecurities or masking social anxiety? Is it fair to say that Autistic people could even thrive through a foreign accent, to the point of it providing a channel through which to authentically communicate, or to find an undiscovered voice?

I think so. When I speak a foreign language I feel free. Just as an actor is able to create and mould a character, I’m able to invent myself to match the confidence I sometimes feel when speaking a foreign language. I allow myself the permission to be my true, Autistic self. My imagination and creativity are able to glow as I ponder and select vocabulary, and cogs are able to whir as I code sentences inside my head. Speaking a foreign language truly opens up a new world to explore which is beyond the familiar but which, to me, feels safe.

Dolan, N. (2025) ‘Life as a Second Language’, in Wired Our Own Way. Dublin: New Island Books.