Once again, autism is making headlines for the wrong reasons. Tylenol has been claimed to cause autism, despite repeated statements from scientists that no credible evidence supports this. These myths spread quickly, but they do nothing to help autistic people.
It’s easy to see why this narrative has gained traction. Many parents seek an explanation for why their child is different, and they want to believe a single choice could have prevented hardship. But autism is highly genetic, and large-scale studies have not found convincing evidence that Tylenol causes it.
The bigger problem is not the claim itself, but the way it frames autism as an avoidable outcome of a “bad decision.” This framing stigmatizes autistic people and harms families. Instead of chasing unproven causes and cures, we should direct our energy toward the challenges we know are real.
Autism isn’t a tragedy to be averted; it reflects the diversity of human thought and interaction. Yet prevention narratives suggest otherwise. They encourage pity, drive discrimination and fuel misplaced efforts to eradicate autism instead of supporting autistic people.
My own research shows how stigma shapes real-world attitudes. People who have less accurate knowledge about autism, or less exposure to autistic people, are more likely to hold discriminatory views toward them. These attitudes filter into classrooms, workplaces and communities, shutting autistic people out of opportunities that should be open to everyone.
When political figures like President Donald Trump and Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. speak about autism, their words carry weight. Unfortunately, their rhetoric reinforces stigma that harms the autism community.
Blame and parental guilt: The suggestion that autism is caused by Tylenol use during pregnancy frames autism as the result of a parent’s “poor decision.” This kind of rhetoric can make parents hesitant to seek a diagnosis, worried they will be blamed.
Deficit-based assumptions: Kennedy has portrayed autistic people through stereotypes that highlight what they supposedly cannot do, like saying they’ll “never play baseball.” These deficit-based views encourage others to underestimate autistic people’s abilities, making it harder for them to be seen as capable, and creating barriers to employment and independent living.
Epidemic or disease framing: Both Trump and Kennedy have used language suggesting autism is an epidemic or a disease to be cured. This framing is especially dangerous. It casts autistic people as unwanted or defective, fueling discrimination and even policy proposals that aim to reduce the number of autistic people rather than improve their quality of life.
These narratives all share one thing in common: They strip autistic people of their humanity. Autistic people are not statistics, epidemics or the byproducts of parental mistakes. They are human beings who deserve dignity, respect and opportunity, regardless of the level of support they need.
If our leaders truly want to support families, they should stop amplifying myths and start addressing the problems that matter most. The priorities are clear:
Improve access to diagnosis
Too many autistic people are still overlooked. Girls, people of color and those from marginalized backgrounds often face years of delay or misdiagnosis. Federal and state agencies should invest in better training for providers, culturally responsive screening tools and health care systems that listen to caregivers instead of dismissing them.
Invest in services and supports
A diagnosis should lead to help, not to years-long waitlists or inadequate services. We need sustained funding for high-quality supports across the lifespan: inclusive schools, accessible mental health care, programs for families and vocational pathways that prepare autistic people for meaningful work. These investments must serve autistic people across ages and ability levels.
Build inclusive communities
Support cannot stop at services alone. Stigma thrives on misinformation, and leaders shape public attitudes. Federal and state initiatives should amplify autistic voices in advisory roles, support inclusion of diverse participants in research and fund public education campaigns that highlight the diversity and humanity of autistic people.
Autistic people are part of our schools, workplaces and neighborhoods. They are not a problem to be prevented, but members of our communities who deserve respect, dignity and opportunity.
If we truly want to support families, we must turn away from fear-based narratives and invest in solutions that help autistic people live their fullest lives. The path forward won’t come from political soundbites. It will come from listening to autistic voices, confronting stigma and committing to the hard work of inclusion.
Desiree Jones is an assistant professor of psychology at the University of Maryland.