WOMEN AND SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE 'SPECIAL INTERESTS'
The invisible fixation that masks neurodivergence in women.
For many neurodivergent women and girls, special interests—those deep, all-encompassing passions that provide joy, comfort, and focus—are often brushed aside, misinterpreted, or even celebrated in ways that delay crucial diagnoses. While autistic boys might exhibit interests that society views as unusual, such as train timetables or numbers, the special interests of autistic women and girls often fly under the radar precisely because they align with societal norms.
My 9-year-old daughter, for example, whose love for animals is so intense that it permeates every area of her life. She watches animal documentaries with a fervour that rivals the most dedicated naturalists, drawing intricate diagrams and memorising obscure facts. It is a beautiful passion—one that earns praise rather than raised eyebrows.
For me, my interests are more than mere hobbies. My love for psychology borders on obsession. I watch lectures in the bath, analyse daily interactions through theoretical frameworks, and consume every academic paper I can find. Add to this my relationship with books—an all-consuming fixation that has become so much a part of me that my daughter often remarks, “You’re either reading or sleeping.” In her eyes, it’s a binary existence, largely because my fibromyalgia, a common comorbidity with neurodivergence, forces me to balance bursts of focus with deep physical exhaustion.
During my autism diagnosis process, however, even the female psychologist administering my ADOS (Autism Diagnostic Observation Schedule) assessment dismissed my fixation with psychology. She claimed it didn’t count because I was building a career out of it. Fortunately, my psychiatrist, who had worked with me for nearly two years, disagreed.
He recognised what others had overlooked, my special interests consumed me.
Whether it was books, psychology, or research, their intensity defined my day-to-day existence, regardless of whether they appeared “useful” or “acceptable.”
The Gendered Nature of Special Interests
This experience is far from unique. Autistic girls and women often develop fixations that are perceived as socially acceptable: fashion, pop culture, animals, reading, or even academic subjects. A girl who spends hours perfecting her drawing of a favourite boyband or memorising the history of Tudor queens might be seen as quirky or diligent. A boy displaying the same level of intensity for his passion—say, memorising bus routes—is far more likely to trigger concern and an assessment.
This discrepancy stems from outdated stereotypes about autism. Historically, the diagnostic criteria were developed based on male presentations of the condition. Autistic traits in women are still under-recognised because women are often better at masking or camouflaging their differences. Their special interests, too, are easily missed because they conform to gender norms.
Socially Acceptable Obsessions and the Cost of Being Overlooked
For neurodivergent women, socially acceptable special interests are a double-edged sword. On one hand, they provide a lifeline—a source of comfort, identity, and control in a chaotic world. On the other, they allow clinicians, educators, and even family members to miss the signs of autism.
Society celebrates women who are “dedicated,” “passionate,” or “hardworking.”
It does not ask why they cannot stop talking about Jane Austen or why they spend 12 hours straight researching Victorian fashion.
In fact, these intense fixations are often dismissed as phases, quirks, or “normal female interests.” A teenage girl who meticulously categorises her wardrobe may be called stylish; a woman who spends every free moment buried in books might simply be “a reader.” Yet, for neurodivergent individuals, these fixations are not passive hobbies. They can consume energy, dictate routines, and become central to a person’s identity.
This disconnect is compounded during the diagnostic process. Many clinicians still fail to recognise the depth of autistic special interests when they align with societal norms. My fixation with psychology and books—arguably “productive” pursuits—was initially discounted, as though the societal value of my interests negated their obsessive nature. Yet usefulness has nothing to do with the underlying intensity. Whether it’s a girl memorising animal facts, a woman losing herself in fiction, or someone like me unable to detach from psychological theories even while soaking in the bath, the compulsive focus is unmistakable.
The consequences of missed diagnoses are profound. Without understanding why their brains work differently, neurodivergent women and girls often internalise their struggles. They may mask their exhaustion, believing that their fixations are merely “hobbies” they take too far. They might feel ashamed for spending hours on something society views as trivial or excessive. The emotional toll of this misunderstanding can lead to burnout, anxiety, and depression. For those, like myself, who also live with chronic conditions such as fibromyalgia, this exhaustion is magnified.
Recognising Special Interests for What They Are
It is time for a shift in perspective. Special interests—no matter how “normal” they appear—can be key indicators of neurodivergence. Whether it’s animals, psychology, boybands, or books, their intensity, depth, and centrality to a person’s life are what matter most. Clinicians must look beyond surface-level acceptability and recognise the ways that gendered stereotypes obscure autistic traits.
For neurodivergent women like myself and for girls like my daughter, these passions are more than hobbies—they are lifelines.
They deserve to be seen, respected, and understood as part of the complex reality of autism. After all, spending hours immersed in a book or watching psychology lectures in the bath might look like dedication. But for those of us who live it, it is much more: a reflection of how our brains work, and a call to understand and embrace neurodivergence in all its forms.