April is Autism Awareness Month, also known as Autism Acceptance Month. Although the official day is April 2, it is observed throughout the entire month. These observances are relatively recent: only not long ago did we feel the need to designate a day to accept difference. Perhaps because our social cognition — our collective brain — tends to push aside anything that falls outside the myth of normal. And there is no myth more flawed than that one.
Today, I want to share what I have learned about autism, not from an informational standpoint, but through a real and deeply human story — that of a child. From children, I have learned far more than from the limited formal trainings I have received in my profession.
Recently, I came across a post on social media. It was about Pau. I want to begin with his own words:
“I am Pau, and I am autistic. I don’t have autism, because it is not a disease. Diseases are cured. I am Pau, and that’s how I should be described. I am me. I am autistic, yes — but I don’t have anything wrong with me.”
And how right he is. When someone is ill, they cannot go about their life as usual: they stop going to school or work and require ongoing treatment. Often, both the individual and their family begin to relate more to the illness than to the world around them. But what Pau proposes is something entirely different: There is nothing here to cure. There is, instead, a whole world to discover.
He then shares a powerful analogy: “Have you seen the video of the square wheel?” A square wheel would seem impossible to use. Yet in the video, bicycles with square wheels move forward smoothly on a track designed with undulations that perfectly match their shape. They fulfill the same function as a bicycle with round wheels.
The metaphor is clear: it is not the wheels that need to change, but the paths.
It also challenges another common myth — the idea that neurodivergent people do not understand metaphorical language. This example shows the opposite: not only do they understand it, they inhabit it deeply.
As philosopher Jürgen Habermas suggested, the social world should be built through consensus, adapting to the needs of those who inhabit it. And in that world, we all coexist: square wheels, round wheels, triangular ones. In the end, we are all bicycles with the same purpose — to move forward. What changes is the track.
In another video, Pau says, “I have the talent of autism.” He calls it a talent because it allows him to perceive life in different, nonconventional ways. From him, I learned that there are not just five senses, but many more: proprioception (the ability to perceive oneself), the vestibular system (related to balance and spatial awareness), among others that shape how we experience the world.
So I wonder: What would happen if we discovered a new sense each day? If we paid attention to what we take for granted? Pau learns them, names them, lives them. He learns how his “square wheel” moves through a world that many of us navigate without thinking.
Shouldn’t we be making the same effort?
Because, if we think about it, we are all different. Not because we are all on the autism spectrum, but because each person is unique, shaped by their experiences and biology. The problem is not difference; it is the obsession with normal — the idea that everything must fit into a single mold, as if society required a kind of cognitive cleansing.
Perhaps the challenge is not only to include, but to question that assumed normality. Autism is not a deficit or a disease. It is a different way of being in the world. An entry point, not an exit.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, approximately one in 31 children in the United States is diagnosed with autism, and boys are three to four times more likely to receive a diagnosis than girls. Most are identified before the age of eight, although many cases are diagnosed later.
In school settings, this means that in nearly every grade level there is at least one child with autism. For this reason, it is not enough to acknowledge a date on the calendar. Concrete actions are needed: education about neurodiversity, openness to new perspectives and spaces that not only include, but truly understand.
In everyday life, we are that undulating track. We are the environment. It is up to us to adjust our perspective, to pause, to build bridges. To remember, as Pau says: “I am.”
And perhaps that is the most important lesson: to stop measuring others against the standard of normality and begin to recognize what emerges when that standard disappears. Because in the end, it is not about fixing the wheel, but about finally learning how to build better paths.
Visit Pau’s Instagram account at @paupautista
At Sol del Valle, we celebrate our community within the autism spectrum and invite our readers to continue learning, listening, and fostering a more inclusive society.