Reflections on wanting to be a duck but not being a duck, an analogy on masking as an Autistic person, trying to fit into a neurotypical world.

Imagine finding yourself at a lake filled with ducks. No other people around, just you and the ducks.

You spend a lot of time watching the ducks, learning their mannerisms and language and trying to understand their society.

They're fascinating creatures.

But duck behaviour is not logical or rational to you. It's hard to understand. After all, you are not a duck. But, it must be perfectly logical to the ducks.

Occasionally, some ducks will notice and come up to you. They quack at you, trying to interact with you. You've observed them enough that you can even guess what they want. But when you try to quack back at them, it's terrible. You're just not equipped to quack properly. It's a feeble impersonation, and the ducks are confused and unsatisfied. You feel foolish for even trying.

You wish you could explain to the ducks that you mean no offence; it's just that you're not a duck. But you don't know how to tell them. And you doubt they would understand anyway.

Over time, it gets better.

You learn how to quack much better. Sometimes you even sound like a real duck. At least, they're convinced enough that they seem to accept you. You think, hey, maybe I'm cut out to be a duck.

You are often reminded how much you are not a duck.

They invite you to go swimming with them. You can swim, surf, or at the very least, stay afloat. But you can't swim like a duck. They paddle effortlessly around their webbed feet. They dive gracefully, and the water rolls off their backs when they resurface. No amount of observing them will ever give you their abilities.

You try to tell yourself that it's okay.

You didn't drown, after all. And the ducks even welcome you to come swimming  with them again. But you also feel ashamed and inadequate for not being able to swim like the ducks can, frustrated that you will never, ever be able to swim like the ducks.

And then there's the flying.

You know you can't fly. No matter how much you watch the ducks or how good you become at imitating other duck behaviours, you just physically can't fly.

The ducks don't seem to understand it. They seem to think it's a choice you've made. To them, you're just that strange duck that doesn't like to fly. You still wish you could make them understand that you're not a duck; you've become adept at certain aspects of imitating one. But maybe it's for the best that you don't say anything. Maybe they'd think you're crazy. Worse, perhaps they'd be angry at you for pretending this whole time.

So instead, you say nothing and keep pretending.

After all, you're very good at it by now. But it can still be challenging at times, There are days when your throat is sore from the quacking that still isn't, that will never be, completely natural. You still get exhausted from so much swimming; you've become a strong swimmer but can't keep up with the ducks.

When you go off flying, you try to console yourself with everything you can do that ducks can't. You're far, far better at walking on land, for instance. For a moment, you even feel superior. You could outrun any duck in a footrace! But footraces don't matter to the ducks. And, if you're being honest with yourself, you're not sure footraces matter to you. You want to fly...