My Neurotypical Costume

John Scott Holman struggled with undiagnosed autism for nearly 25 years. His diagnosis has enabled him to embrace his individuality and move forward. He writes and speaks publicly about his life with autism, hoping to inspire greater understanding and acceptance.

“I want friend like me.” – Frankenstein’s Monster, The Bride of Frankenstein


Most people enjoy taking one day out of the year to don a convincing mask or costume. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, not because I enjoy disguising my true identity, but because I get so tired of it. October 31st is the one day of every year when no one expects me to pretend to be normal.

As a child, I divided each year into two categories – Halloween, and the 364 boring days. “Scotty boy, why are you still awake?” my mother would ask. “It’s after midnight. I knew you shouldn’t have eaten all that candy. Halloween is over. Get in bed.”

“I’m planning my costume for next year. I’ll go to sleep when I’m finished.”

I’ve always been intrigued by the macabre, the supernatural, and things that go bump in the night. I identify with the misunderstood outsiders (a.k.a. the villains). The Wizard of Oz always made me cry – that poor witch! She didn’t ask to be green and ugly. Is it a crime? Ask Kermit the Frog – “it’s not easy being green.”

At eight years-old, I became obsessed with Universal Horror Films of the 1930s; Frankenstein; The Wolfman; Dracula; The Mummy; The Invisible Man. These “monsters” were my friends and allies. They too were mislabeled, misunderstood, and mistreated, and their stories helped me to feel less alone.

In sixth grade, I saved up my money and bought a very realistic, rubber Frankenstein mask. I wore it to school on Halloween day and was teased relentlessly. It probably didn’t help matters that the mask was entirely too big for me – I could barely see out of it and kept running into walls.

The next year, my parents helped me to throw a massive Halloween party. My entire class was invited, and my mom made sure it was the kind of party that no seventh grader would want to miss. I dressed up as Groucho Marx. About a hundred costumed seventh graders were gathered around watching the infamous shower scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, when I dropped a fake body off the balcony and into the crowd! That year was much more fun – serves the bullies right!

Read more of John Scott Holman's post in the Autism Speaks blog HERE.