Why Finding a Cure for Autism is Dangerous

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Written By Jen Friel

Let’s get something out of the way right now: autism is not cancer. It’s not the flu. It’s not some villain lurking in your DNA waiting to be “defeated” with the right pharmaceutical sword. Autism is a way of existing in the world. It shapes how we think, feel, love, and connect. It’s not a disease. It doesn’t need to be eradicated — it needs to be understood.

And yet, time and time again, I see headlines, fundraising campaigns, or even casual conversations drenched in this fantasy about a magical “cure” for autism. The pitch usually goes something like: “Imagine a world where autism no longer exists.”

But here’s the problem: that world would also be missing me. And the millions of other autistic people who make up a huge, vibrant, weird, and necessary part of humanity. Wanting a cure doesn’t just erase autism — it erases autistic people. And if that doesn’t sound dystopian to you, you might need to rewatch literally any sci-fi movie about “perfecting humanity” and notice how it ends. Spoiler: badly.

This is why I want to break down why searching for a cure is dangerous — not just in a “hey, be nice to autistic people” way, but in a very real, society-level, mental-health-level, ethical-level way.

(After all, as a late diagnosed autistic woman WITH a special interest in autism … these news headlines have ROYALLY pissed me off.)

The Problem with the Word “Cure”

“Cure” is a loaded word. It implies that something is wrong, broken, defective — something that needs to be fixed or eliminated. When you apply it to autism, you’re not just talking about curing meltdowns or sensory overwhelm. You’re talking about curing the entire neurology that makes me me.

Let me put it bluntly: autism is not an illness. You can’t “catch” it from sitting next to me on the bus. You can’t “prevent” it with a special kale smoothie or a Pinterest mom’s essential oils kit. Autism is a neurodevelopmental difference — my brain is wired differently, and that’s not inherently bad.

Here’s the danger: once you label autism as something that requires a cure, you automatically frame autistic people as less than. Broken. Tragic. A burden. And when society sees us as broken, it stops seeing us as human. That’s how you end up with ableism baked into schools, workplaces, healthcare, and even family dynamics.

It also fuels the billion-dollar “cure industry,” where pseudoscientific treatments prey on scared parents who’ve been told their child’s life is doomed unless they find a fix. These families aren’t seeking a cure because their kid is miserable — they’re seeking it because society told them their kid is defective.

The language matters. “Cure” isn’t neutral. It carries the weight of stigma, shame, and fear. And autistic people live with the fallout.

Autism Is Neurological Diversity, Not a Disease

One of the biggest misunderstandings about autism is the assumption that it’s some kind of malfunction. Like my brain came off the assembly line with a missing bolt and a flashing “check engine” light. But that’s not what’s happening here. Autism is a form of neurological diversity — meaning, it’s a natural variation in how human brains are wired.

Think about it: humanity has never been one-size-fits-all. We have tall people and short people. Left-handed folks and right-handed folks. Night owls who thrive at 2 a.m. and morning people who somehow enjoy existing before coffee (I don’t trust them, but they exist). Autism is part of that same spectrum of human variation.

The difference? Society decided that left-handedness is quirky, being tall is useful for basketball, and being a night owl is inconvenient but acceptable. Autism, though? That got shoved into the “defective” bin. And once you’re seen as defective, everyone feels entitled to “fix” you.

But here’s what’s rarely acknowledged: autism comes with strengths. Hyperfocus can turn into expertise. Pattern recognition makes us incredible analysts, coders, and artists. Our honesty cuts through the fake fluff most people swim in. Even sensory sensitivities — while overwhelming at times — often mean we notice details others miss.

Does that mean autism is always sunshine and rainbows? Absolutely not. Trust me, I’ve had enough meltdowns in grocery store aisles to confirm that life on the spectrum can be brutal. But difficulty doesn’t equal disease. Struggle doesn’t mean broken.

When you frame autism as neurological diversity instead of pathology, you open the door to acceptance. You stop asking, “How do we erase this?” and start asking, “How do we support this person so they can thrive as themselves?”

And that shift in perspective is everything. Because autism isn’t separate from who I am — it is who I am. You can’t cure me without erasing me.

The Real Dangers of “Cure Culture”

The idea of curing autism isn’t just a harmless thought experiment — it has real, tangible consequences for autistic people and their families. And yes, I’m talking about mental health crises, snake-oil scams, and the slow erasure of entire identities.

1. Mental Health Impact

Let’s start with something personal: the mental toll of being told you need to be cured. Imagine going through life constantly hearing that you’re “too much,” “wrong,” or “broken.” That’s what cure culture does to autistic people every single day.

When your existence is framed as a problem to solve, it’s hard not to internalize that message. Anxiety skyrockets. Depression sneaks in. Suicide rates among autistic adults are alarmingly high — and researchers often point to stigma, social rejection, and the pressure to “normalize” as major contributors.

I’ve lived this. I’ve had moments where I thought if only I were quieter, calmer, less… autistic, maybe the world would like me more. But here’s the kicker: trying to erase myself doesn’t fix me — it just erases the parts of me that make me human. Cure culture doesn’t help; it harms.

2. Exploitation and Pseudoscience

Then there’s the $1 billion cure industry. That’s right — people make actual money from convincing desperate parents that autism can be “fixed.” And the methods? Often dangerous, unproven, or outright abusive.

We’re talking bleach therapies (yes, bleach), extreme diets, unregulated supplements, and hours of compliance training that make a child feel like a machine instead of a person. Families spend thousands chasing these so-called solutions, all because society sold them the idea that their child’s natural wiring is a catastrophe that must be avoided at all costs.

I get it — parents want the best for their kids. But the real crime here isn’t love; it’s misinformation. Cure culture preys on fear, not compassion. And autistic kids (and adults) pay the price.

3. Erasure of Autistic Identity

Finally, let’s talk about identity. Autism isn’t a wardrobe accessory you can remove. It’s not just behavior or quirks — it’s perception, thought patterns, emotional processing, and yes, personality.

Pushing for a cure is pushing for erasure. It’s saying, “We would rather you not exist as you are.” And that… yeah, that’s dangerous. It’s not hypothetical — it’s literally existential for anyone who identifies as autistic.

When you erase autistic identity, you erase the contributions, creativity, and perspectives that autistic people bring to the world. The result isn’t a “normal” society; it’s a poorer one. Less innovative, less compassionate, and less interesting.

The point is simple: cure culture doesn’t just threaten autistic bodies or brains — it threatens lives, mental health, and identity.

Whose Needs Does a Cure Really Serve?

Here’s the reality: the obsession with curing autism isn’t actually about autistic people.

Shocking, right?

Sure, parents and caregivers often genuinely want what’s best for their children. They worry about struggles, bullying, and the challenges of navigating a world built for neurotypical people. I get that. But the messaging behind the “cure” is society saying, loud and clear: “We’re uncomfortable with you as you are, so we need to change you.”

And make no mistake — it’s society that’s uncomfortable. Schools designed for conformity. Workplaces designed for social fluency and constant small talk. Healthcare systems that don’t accommodate sensory or communication differences. The push for a cure is less about autistic people thriving and more about making the rest of the world feel comfortable.

Even the “good intentions” of parents can get co-opted into cure culture. I’ve seen families spend thousands on unproven therapies, not because they think their child is evil, but because they’ve been told that an autistic life is inherently tragic. That’s society whispering in their ears, feeding anxiety and guilt, and offering the illusion of control in exchange for compliance with harmful treatments.

Let’s be blunt: if autism were truly erased tomorrow, who would benefit? Non-autistic society, mostly. The people who designed this world, who built systems assuming everyone thinks, senses, and socializes like them. Autistic people? We’d lose our communities, our identities, and the unique ways we contribute to the world.

So yes, a cure sounds comforting on paper. But peel back the layers, and it’s mostly about the comfort of people who don’t need to change. Meanwhile, the people actually living autism every day — the ones who would be “cured” — are left out of the conversation entirely.

What Autistic People Actually Need Instead

Let’s get real: we don’t need a cure. We need support, understanding, and acceptance. That’s it. That’s the “secret formula” people keep overlooking while pouring millions into a cure that would erase us.

1. Acceptance, Not Erasure

Autistic people need to be seen, heard, and respected as we are. Not as problems to solve, not as projects to complete, and certainly not as mistakes in the genetic code. Acceptance doesn’t mean we ignore challenges; it means acknowledging both strengths and struggles without judgment.

When society accepts autism as a valid way of existing, autistic people thrive. Anxiety drops. Confidence grows. Relationships become more authentic. Imagine a world where I don’t have to mask my true self just to survive daily social interactions. That world isn’t hypothetical — it’s achievable through acceptance, not cures.

2. Support in Areas of Challenge

We all have struggles. Autistic people just happen to have different ones: sensory sensitivities, executive function difficulties, social communication differences. Support looks like:

  • Tools for executive function (timers, visual schedules, structured routines)

  • Sensory accommodations in schools and workplaces

  • Communication tools (text, AAC devices, or alternative methods for those who need them)

Support doesn’t aim to erase autism; it empowers autistic people to navigate a world not built for us. It’s the difference between helping a person thrive and trying to reshape them into someone they’re not.

3. Inclusive Education and Workplaces

Schools and workplaces often expect everyone to fit the same mold. Surprise — that doesn’t work for millions of autistic people. Inclusive systems aren’t about lowering standards; they’re about removing barriers.

For example:

  • Flexible deadlines for tasks that require high executive function

  • Quiet spaces to decompress in overstimulating environments

  • Clear, direct communication instead of relying on subtle social cues

These aren’t luxuries; they’re basic accommodations that allow autistic people to contribute fully and meaningfully.

4. Research Focused on Quality of Life

Instead of investing millions into “curing” autism, research should prioritize quality of life:

  • Mental health support and accessible therapies

  • Sensory-friendly public spaces

  • Effective support for independent living

This research benefits autistic people directly, rather than chasing an impossible goal that erases our identities.

5. Community and Connection

Finally, autistic people need community. We need each other. Spaces where we can exist without masking, without judgment, without the constant pressure to be “normal.” Connection is life-changing. It’s validation. It’s proof that we are not broken, just different.

Acceptance, support, and inclusion are not radical. They’re not complicated. And they’re infinitely more ethical and effective than any so-called cure. Because we don’t need to be fixed. We need to be seen.

Voices from the Community

One of the most important points I need to hammer home: if you want to understand autism, listen to autistic people. I can write a thousand words, but nothing beats the perspective of people living it every day.

Temple Grandin

Temple Grandin, a world-renowned animal scientist and autistic advocate, has said it best: autism is not something to cure; it’s something to understand. She’s often pointed out that autistic people can think in pictures, notice details others miss, and solve problems in ways neurotypical people can’t. Wanting to erase that isn’t just dangerous — it’s short-sighted.

Lydia X. Z. Brown

Activist Lydia X. Z. Brown highlights how cure-focused narratives can be violent. They imply that autistic lives are inherently less valuable. Brown’s work reminds us that advocacy isn’t about making us more “acceptable” — it’s about demanding the resources, accommodations, and respect autistic people deserve.

Autistic Voices Everywhere

Beyond famous advocates, there are millions of autistic voices speaking up every day: online communities, blogs, social media, conferences, and local support groups. The recurring themes?

  • We don’t need to be fixed.

  • Support, understanding, and inclusion make more difference than any cure.

  • Autistic identity is not a tragedy.

These voices are crucial because they shift the conversation from theory to reality. Cure culture isn’t about helping autistic people; it’s about comforting non-autistic people who can’t handle difference. Listening to us dismantles that narrative.

The takeaway is simple: autistic people are experts in autism. If you want to improve lives, change policy, or create research that actually matters, start by centering our experiences. Anything else is just guesswork — and potentially harmful guesswork at that.

Reframing the Conversation

If we’re going to talk about autism, it’s time to ditch the word cure and start talking about care, support, and acceptance. Language matters, and the words we use shape how society treats autistic people — and how we treat ourselves.

Cure vs. Care

“Cure” implies that something is wrong and needs to disappear. “Care” implies that someone deserves support, understanding, and respect. Big difference, right?

Care looks like:

  • Providing tools to navigate the world without erasing who we are.

  • Celebrating autistic strengths instead of just focusing on challenges.

  • Creating communities where difference is not just tolerated, but valued.

Care doesn’t erase identity. Cure does. Care empowers. Cure diminishes.

Shifting From Pathology to Acceptance

Pathology-based thinking tells us that autism is a problem. Acceptance-based thinking tells us that autism is a difference — a neurological variation that contributes to human diversity.

This shift isn’t just semantics; it changes everything:

  • Schools stop punishing stimming behaviors and start providing sensory accommodations.

  • Employers stop expecting conformity and start offering flexible work environments.

  • Families stop seeking unproven “cures” and start learning how to truly support their autistic loved ones.

Listening Over Fixing

The ultimate reframing? Stop trying to “fix” autistic people. Start listening. Start asking: What do you need to thrive? What makes life better for you?

When society starts asking those questions instead of chasing a cure, autistic people stop being seen as problems. We start being seen as fully human, fully capable, and fully worthy — quirks, meltdowns, and all.

The Bottom Line

The pursuit of an autism cure represents both a dangerous and misguided approach because it endangers mental health while enabling exploitation and eliminating autistic identity and serving neurotypical comfort needs above autistic dignity.

Autism exists as a natural aspect of human existence rather than a medical condition. People with autism experience the world through their own distinct mental processes which shape their perception of reality. The human experience gains depth through autistic strengths and unique perspectives which accompany the difficulties of autism. The pursuit of a cure disregards all the valuable aspects of autism brings to society. The message to autistic people through this approach declares that their current state lacks value. Such treatment stands as an absolute wrong.

The real requirement for autistic individuals consists of receiving acceptance together with support and respect rather than seeking a cure. The path to acceptance requires schools to provide inclusive learning environments and workspaces with accommodations and mental health services and a culture that embraces neurodiversity instead of showing fear toward it. Every initiative must prioritize autistic voices and base its decisions on our direct experiences.

The main takeaway from this post should be that attempting to cure autism would result in the elimination of autistic individuals. The world becomes better when we provide proper care to autistic individuals. There’s no contest.

The world doesn’t need fewer autistic people. It needs more understanding. More empathy. More spaces where autistic people can thrive as themselves. And until society learns that, every conversation about a “cure” will remain not just dangerous, but deeply unethical.

If you’re reading this and you’re not autistic, ask yourself: how can you support, include, and celebrate autistic people instead of imagining a world without us?

Start listening.

Start learning.

Start valuing neurodiversity.

That’s the real change we need.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK.

… but for realsies, I did give a TedX Talk … pre-diagnosis:

FAQ:

Q1: Why shouldn’t we try to cure autism?
A1: Autism is a natural variation in human neurology, not a disease. Searching for a cure can harm mental health, erase identity, and reinforce stigma.

Q2: What do autistic people want instead of a cure?
A2: Autistic people need acceptance, support, accommodations, and communities that value neurodiversity — not eradication.

Q3: Is autism a disease?
A3: No. Autism is a neurological difference that shapes perception, thought, and behavior. It is part of human diversity, not a medical defect.

Q4: What are the dangers of cure-focused approaches?
A4: Cure-focused approaches can lead to mental health struggles, exploitation by pseudoscience, and the erasure of autistic identities.