Why Small Talk Feels Like Work for Autistic and ADHD People

Small talk is never just small…

For autistic and ADHD people, the discomfort you feel around it is valid because others use it to quietly gather information you may not even realize you’re giving, simply because you don’t see the world that way.

Think of the common scripts:

* “How are you?” - but they don’t want the real answer, only the performance of “fine.”

* “Where are you from?” - and when you answer, they push for the “real” answer, probing past your words.

* “What do you do?” - not neutral curiosity, but a quick calculation of your usefulness, your value, what access you might provide.

And while they collect data, a neurodivergent brain is left unscrambling the impossible balance, how much truth to share, how much to mask, how much silence will be read as rude.

What feels like chatter to them is quiet data collection. What feels like discomfort to you is recognition that the exchange was never harmless.

These questions land heavy, not light. They are rarely requests for truth. They are invitations to perform ease, to hand over fragments of yourself in a socially acceptable script.

For me, they are neither harmless chatter nor a doorway into intimacy. I don’t like small talk, but I don’t like deep talk with strangers either. That leaves me stranded in what I call medium talk—the kind where I can meet someone partway without being pulled under.

Because once people realize I have people skills, they mistake it for consent. They want me to wade in their waters, to swim through their unspoken needs, their half-told stories, their silences. The problem is, I cannot swim, and they risk drowning me in theirs. Or I am left thirsty, still holding my own unanswered questions.

But there is something more sinister beneath small talk, something autistic and ADHD people often miss. Every casual question is strategic, even if the asker doesn’t know it. Small talk gathers data. It tells someone your value, your capacity, your usefulness. What feels like harmless chatter to them can be a quiet assessment of what you might offer, and what they might take.

In workplaces, in abusive relationships, even in so-called friendly circles, vagueness and chatter become tools for extraction, mapping your boundaries before you even realize the negotiation has begun.

Why Autistic and ADHD People Hate Small Talk

“What others call harmless chatter feels, to us, like a test we never agreed to take.” - Lovette Jallow

For many of us, small talk isn’t small—it’s a flood of noise, shifting tones, darting eye contact, and unspoken rules to decode in real time. Remember the questions from the start: “How was your weekend?” “Where are you from?” They don’t land as harmless curiosity. Each one opens a dozen loops in the mind: How much truth is allowed? Do they want detail or just “fine”? Will honesty make them uncomfortable, or will vagueness be read as rude?

In workplaces, the stakes are even higher. Some of us maintain clear boundaries because colleagues are not friend-shaped but work-shaped, and confusing the two comes at a cost. Autistic people already face staggering unemployment rates; one wrong move in these coded exchanges can mean being penalized, sidelined, or misread. These so-called “social skills” we are told we lack are not neutral—they are codes that make little sense, yet still hold power over our survival.

Small talk demands performance. It expects you to mask—to soften your edges, mirror the other person’s rhythm, and pretend the exchange is effortless. For autistic and ADHD people, that performance carries a cost. Masking drains working memory, ramps up sensory stress, and forces a split-second calculation of which version of yourself will keep the conversation moving without friction.

The irony is that autistic and ADHD communication is often labeled as blunt, when in reality it’s efficient for the way our brains process information.

Direct answers, honesty, and clear questions allow us to conserve energy and reduce confusion. They are not superior forms of communication—they are simply what works best for us.

The problem is that we live in a world where the most marginalized are expected to do the most adapting, usually at their own expense. That relentless adjustment comes with consequences: nearly 80% of autistic people experience trauma—not because of autism itself, but because of the demand to mask, bend, and perform for systems that won’t meet us halfway.

You’ve probably experienced this trap: a manager breezes in with “Can you just…” or a LinkedIn contact sends a vague “Would love to pick your brain.” They sound casual, but both are small talk opening the door to unpaid labor.

And beneath the exhaustion lies something sharper: small talk isn’t only draining, it is a quiet system of information mining—mapping who you are, what you can give, and how much of you might be available to take. Learning to see that pattern is the first step toward resisting it. In my webinar, I’ll share the scripts I use to answer strategically without giving away more than I choose.

Vagueness as a Tool of Coercion

“If a request is vague, ask for clarity before you respond. Abusive systems thrive on your guesswork.” - Lovette Jallow

And if your aim is honest you will be direct. Vagueness often disguises itself as politeness. A family member says, “Can you just help me with this thing?” A manager asks, “Could you quickly take a look at this?” The words are small, but the labor behind them is not. By shrinking the task in language, they make refusal feel unreasonable. If you resist, you look difficult. If you comply, you are trapped in hours of invisible work you never agreed to.

This pattern scales. Abusive partners lean on vague promises and half-sentences that keep you second-guessing what was really agreed upon. In workplaces, vagueness is framed as flexibility—“we’ll figure it out as we go”—when in reality it shifts accountability onto the person least protected.

And this isn’t new. Colonial and patriarchal systems perfected vagueness as a form of control. Ambiguity lets the person in power decide later what was meant, and punish you either way. The record is always slippery, which means the weight always falls on the person without power. Vagueness turns confusion into obedience.

How Abusive Systems Extract Through Small Talk

“Not every question deserves your full answer. You can give less than you know without being dishonest.”

After lectures, I’ve had people approach me with casual questions. It seems like gratitude, a quick thank you wrapped in curiosity. But often it’s not curiosity at all, it’s a way to mine frameworks without paying for them. A stranger asking, “So what do you think about…?” is rarely just interested. They are building their notes off my labor, collecting the kind of intellectual scaffolding that took me years to develop but costs them nothing to extract.

On LinkedIn, I see the same maneuver. A message arrives: “Would love to pick your brain” or “Can we jump on a quick call?” No details. No agenda. No clarity about what the meeting is for. The vagueness is deliberate. If you agree, you walk into a space where the terms are undefined, which means your labor is free to be harvested. When white women do this—whether in activist spaces or corporate diversity programs—it is framed as collegiality, collaboration, or friendship. But underneath, it is the same pattern: information gathering without acknowledgment, credit, or compensation.

Small talk is the sugar-coating on extraction. It disarms you into offering what should be contractual—your strategies, your knowledge, your analysis—as if it were casual conversation. For Black neurodivergent women, the expectation to smile, share, and soothe makes this even harder to refuse. Our boundaries are read as arrogance. Our directness is misread as hostility. The system counts on that misreading to keep us pliable.

Why Clarity Is the Communication Tool Neurodivergent People Deserve

“Clarity is not cruelty. It is community care.”

For autistic and ADHD people, clarity is not just preference, it is safety. Knowing exactly what is being asked, expected, or promised removes the silent traps that vagueness sets. Direct speech gives our nervous systems room to rest. It is the one tool that many of us were never given because our therapists avoided it, our teachers called it rude, and even our caregivers, often neurodivergent themselves, struggled without it.

This is the turning point: once you recognize that clarity how important clarity is to you, you can see why vagueness was never neutral. It kept you pliable. It kept you quiet. It kept you guessing. What I want to offer is not just recognition of the problem but the strategies to practice clarity in a world that punishes it.

If clarity is care, then why is it a skill so few were ever given the tools to practice or strengthen?

We were taught that small talk is harmless, bluntness rude, and directness dangerous. Those lessons weren’t neutral, they kept some pliable while others controlled the terms.

Recognition isn’t enough. The exhaustion, vagueness, and quiet extraction you’ve felt are proof. What’s missing are the tools: scripts, strategies, and answers that protect your energy.

That’s why I created a live webinar on September 6th: Small Talk Without Masking – Communication Strategies for Neurodivergent Adults.I’ll share the methods I use to spot extraction, respond with clarity, and safeguard energy without masking.

The session ends with a live Q&A, because clarity has to be practiced.

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Explore More from The Lovette Jallow Perspective

You can find more of my essays exploring:

* Neurodivergence, autism, and navigating public life as a Black woman

* Building true inclusion beyond checkbox diversity

* Reclaiming voice and agency across personal, political, and historical landscapes

* Racism in Sweden and systemic injustice

Each essay connects real-world experience with structural analysis—equipping individuals and institutions to think deeper, act smarter, and build sustainable change.

Who is Lovette Jallow?

Lovette Jallow is one of Scandinavia’s most influential voices on systemic racism, intersectional justice, and human rights. She is a nine-time award-winning author, keynote speaker, lecturer, and humanitarian specializing in:

* Neurodiversity and workplace inclusion

* Structural policy reform

* Anti-racism education and systemic change

As one of the few Black, queer, autistic, ADHD, and Muslim women working at the intersection of human rights, structural accountability, and corporate transformation, Lovette offers a uniquely authoritative perspective rooted in lived experience and professional expertise.

Her work bridges theory, research, and action—guiding institutions to move beyond performative diversity efforts and toward sustainable structural change.

Lovette has worked across Sweden, The Gambia, Libya, and Lebanon—tackling institutional racism, legal discrimination, and refugee protection. Her expertise has been sought by outlets like The New York Times and by leading humanitarian organizations addressing racial justice, policy reform, and intersectional equity.

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