Is an autistic adult who’s 100% nonverbal capable of giving, let alone holding, eye contact? Let’s take a look at this fascinating topic.
As a direct service provider, I recently had the opportunity to work with a woman I’ll call Payzley.
She’s in her 20s or early 30s, and is completely nonverbal. This means she’s not capable of uttering even “yes” or “no.”
At one point, Payzley made a grunt when I asked a question.
On numerous occasions she tried to get my attention (e.g., when I was nearby while she was looking at clothes in a store) by making what can best be described as gasping sounds.
She wanted to get some words out, but they just wouldn’t come.
Every time this happened, her eyes were smack on mine.
She also kept wanting to show me the price and sizing tags on clothes. Every time she presented a tag before me, her eye contact was spot-on.
She also kept looking at me while we ate lunch, seated across from each other.
I need to point out that Payzley’s eye contact, whenever it occurred, was short-lived.
It seemed to be generated long enough just to get my attention and make sure that I was responding to whatever she wanted to communicate (she didn’t use any communication technology).
I also need to point out that I never tested her eye contact to see how long she’d hold it, because every time she met my eyes, I gave her just enough to acknowledge her communication efforts – but I didn’t keep looking.
Thus, I don’t know how long Payzley would’ve maintained eye contact had I kept prolonging it.
Instead I looked at the clothing tag, or, I gazed away. I found it awkward maintaining it for longer than necessary.
This may have been partly because she was nonverbal, and the fact that I’m autistic myself probably played into it, as I felt that holding eye contact with a completely nonverbal individual brought with it an odd sense of “don’t overdo it.”
Mental Age of an Autistic with Zero Spoken Language
There are people who believe that since, on average, a typical 12-month-old baby can say some words, and by 18 months, the average baby can say up to 50 words – that an autistic adult who can’t say even a single word must have a mental age under 12 months.
Imagine a 10-month-old suddenly in the body of an adult.
They won’t have a clue what to do at a clothing rack beyond maybe feeling the various textures.
Payzley kept checking the tags, showing me them, holding the clothes up and then looking up at me, as though she wanted me to express a spoken opinion (which I did).
At the start of the day, I gave her a pen and paper and told her to write out where she wanted to go.
With a loose grip she printed g-o. I asked if she wanted to go to Goodwill; she nodded (her host home provider just minutes before had told me she likes to shop at Goodwill).
A 10-month-old wouldn’t be able to do that.
After Goodwill I asked Payzley to write out what she wanted to do next.
She wrote out u-n-c-k. I said I didn’t know what that was.
She placed the pad in a more firm position and printed u-n-c-h.
A 10-month old wouldn’t know how to do this. In fact, a toddler wouldn’t know, either.
How old would a typical child have to be to be “smart enough” to try to spell out “lunch”?
At the store, Payzley went to the back where the restroom was, dress in hand, knowing there were no fitting rooms. I had not instructed her to do this.
I said we had to wait for an employee to unlock the door. During the wait, a woman came out of the restroom, and Payzley shot right in.
In a stall, door locked, she was trying on the dress. A 10-month-old, even a preschooler, wouldn’t have the cognitive ability to do this.
Can a toddler, even a preschooler, print their full name? Payzley did.
Her table manners were better than that of most typical adults.
At another store she bought a necklace (she can’t count money; I assisted).
The cashier removed its tag. Payzley then hung it back where she found it. I said, “You can’t do that; you already bought it.”
She then retrieved it, but removed another one from the display and pointed to the tag; it was cheaper.
All the while there was plenty of eye contact as all of this unfolded.
Payzley was trying to communicate that she realized that a similar-looking necklace was a little cheaper and wanted it instead.
A baby wouldn’t grasp this concept. Nor would a preschooler. I’m not even sure a second-grader would be price conscious and understand that they could make an exchange and get a little refund.
I told Payzley to go to the cashier to get a refund and buy the new necklace. She understood this directive, but I made sure she got the right refund back.
However, with her multiple purchases that day, she knew to put the receipts in her purse (her host home provider said she’s supposed to). I doubt a baby – in an adult’s body with fine motor control – would understand to take receipts, fold them and put them in a purse.
Clearly, Payzley has an intellectual disability, but her receptive language (what she understands) far exceeds her expressive language (what she can speak).
Final Observation: Typical Eye Contact
Putting all of that aside, I’d say that given the circumstances, her eye contact was normal.
There’d been no reason for her to prolong it with me, but when it would seem that eye contact would be a natural byproduct of various situations, she gave what seemed to be the right amount.
And no, she wasn’t masking by looking at my nose or forehead instead.
Payzley’s very young mental age doesn’t correspond to the self-awareness of trying to act neurotypical by faking eye contact.
So with absolute certainty, I believe that this nonverbal autistic adult’s eye contact was as authentically normal as a neurotypical’s — given the unusual circumstances.
Now, how much eye contact would Payzley have given if she were fully verbal? Who knows?
How much would she had given if she understood long speech? Who knows? She understood only short speech, such as, “Are you having a good time?” and, “Do you want to use the bathroom?”
If I were to explain to an NT what I’d done all weekend, their eyes would be on mine the entire time (while mine would mostly be gazing away, as I find eye contact while long-talking distracting).
But if I were to give a rundown of my weekend activities with Payzley, I’d anticipate she wouldn’t hold eye contact simply because she wouldn’t understand that level of communication, rather than finding eye contact uncomfortable.
Lorra Garrick has been covering medical and fitness topics for many years, having written thousands of articles for print magazines and websites, including as a ghostwriter. She’s also a former ACE-certified personal trainer. In 2022 she received a diagnosis of Level 1 Autism Spectrum Disorder and subsequently has developed an intense interest in ASD.
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