The steep price of Applied Behaviour Analysis
In this blog, our Guest contributor shares their deeply moving lived experiences of Applied Behaviour Analysis (ABA) and the impact this has had upon them as a Neurodivergent person.
As an Autistic individual, reflecting on my experience with ABA is like re-tracing a path through a landscape of good intentions, complex outcomes, and profound personal growth.
My journey with ABA began in childhood, when it was introduced as a structured intervention to help me navigate a world that often felt overwhelming. It was framed as a way to ‘smooth the edges’ of my Autistic traits, enabling me to blend into neurotypical spaces. Now, through the lens of neurodiversity-affirming understanding, I see this chapter of my life with a blend of appreciation for the care I received, critical awareness of its shortcomings, and a deep commitment to honouring my authentic self.
“The goal, it seemed, was to sculpt me into a version of myself that others found more palatable, rather than nurturing the unique ways I experienced and expressed myself.”
My early encounters with ABA were a whirlwind of structured sessions, each punctuated by rewards and gentle corrections. I remember the vibrant stickers I earned for tasks like sustaining eye contact, responding promptly to my name, or suppressing my stimming — the rhythmic hand-flapping that anchored me in moments of sensory overload. These achievements were celebrated as milestones, yet they often left me with a lingering sense that my natural ways of being were obstacles to overcome. The goal, it seemed, was to sculpt me into a version of myself that others found more palatable, rather than nurturing the unique ways I experienced and expressed myself. While I gained practical skills, I also absorbed a subtle message: my Autistic traits were problems to be fixed.
ABA undeniably equipped me with tools that helped me navigate a neurotypical world. I learned to manage sensory overload in crowded classrooms, to interpret social cues that once baffled me, and to communicate verbally in ways that opened doors to friendships and opportunities. These skills were like scaffolding, supporting me in environments rarely designed for neurodivergent needs. In school, I could participate in group activities, and later, in professional settings, I could engage in meetings with less anxiety. Yet, the cost of this progress was steep. The emphasis on compliance over self-expression often silenced my ability to advocate for my needs. I spent years believing that my need for routine, my sensory sensitivities, or my stims were flaws to be hidden, rather than strengths to be embraced.
“The emphasis on compliance over self-expression often silenced my ability to advocate for my needs.”
Reflecting now, I see how ABA’s focus on behaviour modification sometimes overshadowed my emotional and sensory experiences. Sessions rarely explored why I stimmed or why certain environments overwhelmed me. Instead, the priority was on outward conformity — sitting still, looking “engaged,” or responding in socially expected ways. This approach, while well-intentioned, left me grappling with an internal conflict: the desire to be accepted versus the need to be myself. It wasn’t until I discovered the neurodiversity paradigm that I began to unlearn these lessons. My Autistic traits — my intense focus, my unique perspective, my sensory attunement — are not deficits but integral to my identity. This realisation was like shedding a heavy cloak, allowing me to move through the world with greater self-acceptance.
Through a neurodiversity-affirming lens, I now reframe my ABA experience as a chapter in a larger story of self-discovery. I wish those early interventions had prioritised my autonomy, helping me build skills while celebrating my neurotype. Support that centred consent, sensory regulation, and self-advocacy would have empowered me to thrive without compromising my authenticity. Instead of stickers for eye contact, I could have been taught to communicate my sensory needs or to use stimming as a tool for self-regulation. Such an approach would have nurtured my confidence and equipped me to navigate the world as my whole self.
“My Autistic traits — my intense focus, my unique perspective, my sensory attunement — are not deficits but integral to my identity.”
Today, I advocate for support that amplifies Autistic voices and honours Neurodivergent experiences. My time with ABA, while formative, underscored the need for interventions that embrace difference rather than seeking to erase it. I am grateful for the dedication of those who supported me, but I envision a future where Autistic children are empowered to flourish as their authentic selves, free from the pressure to conform. This reflection is not a rejection of my past but a reclamation of my narrative — a testament to my resilience and a celebration of my neurodivergent joy.
