“Twenty years ago, autism in children was 1 in 10,000. Now it’s 1 in 34. WOW! Something’s really wrong.”
When I read these words, tweeted by the president of the United States, I felt a familiar mix of anger and dread. Not because the numbers are alarming—they’re not—but because this kind of rhetoric fuels fear, stigma, and harm against autistic people. When paired with the endorsement of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a prominent figure in the anti-vaccine movement, for secretary of health and human services, it raises serious concerns about the intersection of ableism, anti-science rhetoric, and normalization of harmful ideologies.
Let’s start with the numbers. The claim that autism rates have skyrocketed from 1 in 10,000 to 1 in 34 is not only misleading but also inaccurate. According to the CDC, the current rate is approximately 1 in 36 children and 1 in 45 adults. This shift isn’t evidence of a crisis—it’s evidence of progress. We’ve gotten better at recognizing autism, understanding it as a spectrum, and diagnosing it accurately. What was once overlooked or misdiagnosed is now being identified, and that’s a good thing.
But when these numbers are framed as a problem, it perpetuates the idea that autism is something to be feared or eradicated. It ignores the fact that autism is a natural variation in human neurology, not a disease or a tragedy.
Autism is not a crisis. It’s a neurodevelopmental difference that has always existed. The increase in diagnosis rates reflects better awareness, not an epidemic. Yet, the president’s tone suggests otherwise, feeding into the same fearmongering that has long been used to justify harmful, anti-science agendas.
The tweet’s underlying message is clear: autism is a problem to be solved. This is ableism in its purest form. It dehumanizes autistic people, reducing us to statistics and burdens rather than individuals with unique strengths, challenges, and contributions.
When this kind of rhetoric comes from someone with influence, it legitimizes harmful stereotypes and policies. It reinforces the idea that autistic people are less valuable, less deserving of respect, and less worthy of inclusion.
Instead of listening to autistic voices or medical science, someone has chosen to spread fear and misinformation and fuel stigma and discrimination. It’s not just about numbers or politics; it’s about the message it sends to autistic people and our families. It tells us that we are a problem to be fixed, rather than people to be understood and supported.
The endorsement of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. for secretary of health and human services adds another layer of concern to this rhetoric. Kennedy has built much of his career on spreading misinformation about vaccines (as well as other health issues). By endorsing a prominent figure in the anti-vaccine movement for a position that is designed to run the office ostensibly created to protect the health of the population of the United States, the president is aligning himself with a person who has repeatedly spread misinformation about vaccines and autism. This isn’t just a fringe theory; it’s a dangerous narrative that has contributed to vaccine hesitancy, outbreaks of preventable diseases, and harm to public health.
By aligning himself with such rhetoric, the president is signaling a troubling prioritization of fear over science and a willingness to amplify voices that undermine public health. This is not just irresponsible—it’s deeply concerning.
Instead of spreading fear about autism, we should be talking about how to create a more inclusive world for autistic people. We should be advocating for better access to resources, accommodations, and community support.
Instead of promoting figures associated with anti-vaccine rhetoric, we should be investing in public health policies that are grounded in science and equity. We should be working to ensure that everyone—autistic or not—has access to the care and support they need to thrive. The real crisis isn’t autism—it’s the ableism and anti-science rhetoric that keeps us from building a world where everyone, neurodivergent or not, can thrive.
Government leadership has a responsibility to hold those in power accountable for spreading fear and misinformation. When leaders amplify harmful narratives, they undermine public trust, endanger marginalized communities, and erode the foundations of equitable and evidence-based policymaking.
We must demand better from those who wield influence. We must push for policies grounded in science, equity, and inclusion. And we must ensure that the voices of autistic people and other marginalized communities are not just heard but centered in these conversations. The stakes are too high to do otherwise.