Autism in tech – with Véronique Sermage

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A conversation with an autistic developer about inclusion for neurodivergent people

Diversity is often talked about in tech teams. But what does it really mean to work as a neurodivergent person in an environment shaped by different norms? That’s the question that led me to Véronique Sermage, a back-end developer at onepoint since 2019. I discovered her through her talk at Devoxx, where she shares what it’s like to be an autistic woman in tech. She talks about cognitive overload, social masking, and communication issues.

As soon as we started speaking, I appreciated how clearly she described her needs — with honesty and no false embarrassment. She talked about meaningless meetings, overwhelming interfaces, the effort she puts into understanding others — and the effort her colleagues make in return to better understand her.

We also spoke about ableism, a topic I’m still trying to grasp fully. The word can feel uncomfortable, divisive, or vague — even to some Disabled people. It’s not always named, or even understood. And yet, it comes up in almost every interaction. A thoughtless comment, an invisible barrier, an unnoticed effort. When you add them all up, they reveal an ingrained system of exclusion — often unintentional, but deeply normalised.

What Véronique reminds us, loud and clear, is that the problem isn’t the difference. It’s our difficulty in accepting it — whether we’re disabled or not.

When did you get your autism diagnosis?

I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) without intellectual disability in 2018. I was 39. But just because the diagnosis came late doesn’t mean it wasn’t there before. I’ve always felt like something was off, but no one could really explain why.

We didn’t ask too many questions until I came very close to burnout — which I went through anyway, because why do things halfway... That’s when we thought, “Maybe there’s something going on. Maybe we need to understand how I got to this point.” And that’s when the first people started saying to me, “You show quite a few autistic traits, it might be worth getting tested.” But of course, it always takes time.

People often say that autistic people have ‘special interests’. Is that true for you?

In my case, some of my special interests can’t really be used in my job. It’s just not possible. It has always been astronomy and astrophotography. That has no real use in my daily work. Another is dogs — again, not really relevant to my job.

But the most essential thing for me day to day is that I need to learn something. If I don’t learn something during the day, I feel off. I have a constant need to learn. That’s why I chose this career. I told myself, “At least I’ll always be learning something new.” And when I start to get bored, I just switch programming language. Problem solved!

I’m not sure if that counts as a special interest, but that’s how I experience it. I can’t just watch something and not understand it — I can’t stand it! If I watch a documentary about Mount Everest, I need to know everything about Mount Everest.

The only limit I have is physical. I’ll exhaust myself on a topic. At some point I’ll stop, yes — but it can very easily tip into hyperfocus. It will take over my whole day, or night. I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve found all the information.

Does it feel like a constraint to you?

If I’m driving and hear something, or get an idea in my head, I need to understand what just happened. If I can’t check a fact, I get a real physical discomfort.

So yes, I’d say it is a restricted interest — it goes way too far. My whole body tenses up as I try to resist the urge. It’s this sensation of physical pain because I’m forcing myself not to act. Not to grab my phone and check that fact online.

Autism and design

What makes a good interface for you?

‍I have fun building my own app. The interface doesn’t follow any usual conventions. I wanted to improve my front-end skills, so I used it as an excuse. But really, I tried to design something that meets my own needs.

There should never be anything hidden. Nothing annoys me more than that! I don’t mind confirmation pop-ins — that’s fine. But as soon as I land on a screen and have to wonder where they decided to put the key information, I get fed up.

Honestly, I think we waste a ridiculous amount of energy hunting for information on interfaces. It’s exhausting to deal with that. For me, a good interface gets straight to the point. I remember being a kid and using MS-DOS — it was so simple!

Now, most of the time, the information isn’t clear. Like if there’s a bin icon — fine, we’ve all understood by now that it means to delete. But the burger menu? I still think loads of people don’t know what it’s for.

When I started building my app, I told myself, “It has to work for everyone.” It has to be accessible to everyone. And that’s not just about disability — it should work for older people too, who don’t understand the Internet. Because in the tech world, ageing can feel like a disability in itself.

You shouldn’t be worn out after using an app. It shouldn’t be aggressive — so I removed all images. And of course there’s no sound, because I hate that. All those websites with autoplaying video ads… Who still does that?!

Do you have colour preferences?

To be honest, colour doesn’t really mean much to me. So I went with black and white. You get perfect contrast, and it’s readable for everyone.

And when there are colours, I tend to assume they carry information. But most of the time, they don’t. So I end up wondering, “Why is that element this colour? Why is that one different?” I waste time trying to figure out a logic that often isn’t there.

That’s why I removed all images. I worry they’d be misunderstood — that I’ll miss something. So unless they actually bring value, I get rid of them.

That said, I do allow myself a few emojis… but only the really obvious ones. There’s no way I’m using some little face that’s supposed to be laughing, and people go, “No, he’s crying!”

Do emojis make things harder for you?

If someone communicates only in emojis… I honestly have no idea what you’re trying to say! So those are things I remove straight away. I simplify, and that helps me understand better.

Written language is something we all share. If I write “sadness”, then everyone gets it. But if I use a crying face, some might think it’s laughing, or angry, or something else… No thanks.

Are there other things in communication you find difficult?

Sarcasm is impossible for me. I often use this example in my talks, but I’ll explain it properly here. When I started at onepoint, I’d just come out of burnout and retrained as a developer. I’d done two months of training, and before that, I was a legal expert. I knew nothing. And I joined a team where the lead architect was a bit feared. People were scared of him.

At first, people kept saying to me, “You need to ask Jérôme.” And I thought, “Oh no, everyone’s scared of him… will I really dare to ask?” I plucked up the courage and sent him a message.

And then we realised pretty quickly that we couldn’t communicate. He always spoke in irony. Always. Until one day, I had a full-blown panic attack during one of our dev sessions. And he felt awful! Once I’d calmed down, he came to me and said, “What happened? What did I do?”

I told him, “Jérôme, it’s not you — it’s me!” Yes, he’d said something, but it was obviously a joke. I think it was something like, “Do you realise what you just said to that colleague? He’s devastated, you crushed him!”

Since that day, he’s done something I really appreciated. He said, “Véronique, I’m going to make a ‘sarcasm sign’.” He didn’t literally make one, but now whenever he’s being sarcastic, he makes a little gesture — like he’s holding up an imaginary sign. And that tells me. It really helped. But yes, it took time before we could set up that shared code.

How does collaboration with your colleagues work these days?

What allows me to work well with others is that they know I’m autistic. They understand that sometimes I’ll struggle to grasp certain things. And it’s not because they explained it badly — it’s just that we’re not connecting in that moment, because we function differently.

For me, the key message is: don’t take it personally. I don’t work like you, but that’s OK — we’ll find a way to communicate. I’ll make an effort towards you, you make an effort towards me, and it works for everyone, painlessly.

That said, I still have days where I think, “OK, today isn’t a good day.” I couldn’t say exactly why, but it’s not a good day. My autistic self comes out more than usual — I go back to being fully myself, and things get harder.

What do you mean by “your autistic self”?

Every day, we do what’s called social masking. I’ve spent my whole life hiding and pretending to function like others. But the truth is, I don’t function like others at all.

For instance, I need very clear information. I need strict structure. You can’t tell me “that blue thing” when it’s actually green. No. Don’t say it’s blue when it’s green — I’ll get stuck on that kind of detail.

I also fixate on tiny things, especially in language. If someone makes a mistake in how they phrase something — even if it doesn’t really matter — my brain just latches onto it. I have to hold myself back from correcting them, even in the middle of a meeting. It takes energy to ignore it, to not say, “That’s not quite right.”

When I’m tired, I lose the ability to let things go. Like meetings that serve no purpose. And in France, we’re champions at pointless meetings! It’s tough because I already struggle to focus on spoken language. There’s too much going on: the style of speech, the speaker, their body language, their tone… I’m processing so much at once that I forget to listen to what they’re actually saying.

As a UX designer, if I could do just one thing for you, what would it be?

On websites, when I’m asked how I want to be contacted… I honestly don’t know! What’s the most efficient way? When will I get a reply?

If you say “request a call back”… OK, but how long will that take? Will I be able to complete the process, and under what conditions?

It’s good to give people a choice — but it’s better to explain why they have the choice. I think for many autistic people, we’re constantly analysing everything. So if you give us a choice, we’ll have to analyse it and make a decision. And that can be incredibly hard.

If I use WhatsApp, will I be speaking to a real person or a bot? If I ask for a call back, will you actually call? When, what time, how? If I send an email, how long will you take to respond? Which address should I use? It’s just overwhelming.

Neurodivergent people will figure it out eventually, but it’s a huge mental load. If the information isn’t clear, it’s a nightmare.

Do you struggle with phone calls?‍

I don’t like talking on the phone. But if I just have to click “request a call back”, that takes a big load off my shoulders.

If I’m asked to phone a customer service number, I won’t do it. Because making a phone call means going through a whole chain of actions that are very difficult for me. I’d have to write down the number, figure out the best time to call, decide to make the call at that time…

For neurodivergent people, executive dysfunction kicks in. It’s something autistic people share with those who have ADHD. Making a phone call is hell. The act of deciding to do it? That can take me three or four hours. I need time.

What are the links between autism and ADHD?

There are quite a few overlaps between autism and ADHD. The symptoms can cross over, since both are neurodevelopmental conditions. For example: difficulty focusing, difficulty prioritising, problems with executive function. These are all traits the two conditions share.

I think the current view is that there’s a 50/50 chance of having ADHD if you’re autistic. But ADHD isn’t always diagnosed once you already have an autism diagnosis. It’s like — well, you’ve already got the plague, why add cholera? But it’s a question I’ve been asking myself for quite a while.

The problem is, you need the right professionals to help you tell the difference between what’s lautism and what might be ADHD. And with autism, there’s a particular issue. I don’t know if it’s the same for ADHD. But autistic people often have really odd reactions to lots of medications. I’m not sure why exactly. I’ve read some theories — like the idea that meds affect neurons, and our neurons don’t connect in the same way as neurotypical people.

That’s why you’re starting to hear more and more that antidepressants shouldn’t be given to autistic people. They can actually make autistic traits worse.

Autism and society

Why are autistic women diagnosed less often than men?‍

There are a few reasons, even though today, people are trying to catch up.

First, the diagnostic criteria we use are based on what we used to know about autism — and unsurprisingly, that knowledge came mostly from male patients. So we have male-centred criteria being applied to women. And that just doesn’t work.

Then there’s something else. From birth, girls are pushed to behave in socially acceptable ways. We’re encouraged to play with toy kitchens, for example — and that’s really about learning how to “host”, how to take care of others. That’s what that kind of play teaches us.

Girls are raised with all sorts of expectations like that. We’ve all experienced it. Go to a children’s party — if a little boy doesn’t say hello properly, people let it slide. But not with a girl. So we’re pushed to fit in socially — sometimes forcefully. And because of that extra pressure to adapt, girls end up masking their difficulties more easily than boys.

But the problem is, it exhausts them. And when they say “I’m tired, I can’t cope”, people call them oversensitive. But that’s not it — they’re not oversensitive. They’re hiding a disability. And frankly, I don’t think many men could manage to hide it the way they do.

What differences are there between autistic men and women?

There are some pretty clear differences, and they work against us. For instance, one common stereotype about autism is that people have a flat, monotone voice. That’s something you often see in autistic men. But not in women — because we tend to mirror the tone of the person we’re speaking to.

We hide our traits to function in a society that wasn’t built for us. And that makes people say things like, “Well, you don’t seem autistic — it can’t be that serious,” or “We all struggle with communication,” or “Everyone gets tired.” But if everyone was like this, it wouldn’t be called a disability.

That’s the real difficulty: people can’t see what’s behind the surface. I don’t think it’s malice — it’s just that unless you live it, you can’t really understand what it’s like.

People often say there are as many forms of autism as there are autistic people. What do you think?

That phrase comes from the way autism is diagnosed. There’s something called the ‘autistic dyad’ — two core criteria. But the range of traits and how they show up varies so much that it’s very unlikely you’ll find two autistic people who function in the same way. You just can’t generalise.

Yes, we know that autistic people often struggle with social communication and have restricted or repetitive behaviours. Fine — those are the definitions. But what do they actually look like in practice?

Someone might have learned to communicate — that doesn’t mean they’re not autistic. You could meet an autistic person who’s non-verbal but has no intellectual disability. There are autistic people who are highly intelligent but can’t express themselves verbally. There are different levels of severity.

Some autistic people are hypersensitive, others are hyposensitive. So it’s a really broad spectrum.

To different extents, some people mask better than others. But there are little signs — things where you think, “Ah yes, you’re autistic too.” You recognise each other. Like someone who avoids eye contact. Yes, you can learn to fake it. But I find it very hard to make eye contact when I’m tired. Please don’t ask me to do that.

In everyday life, I focus on a different part of the face. And later, someone will ask me, “Do you remember that person?” But I don’t remember faces. I don’t look at them. I need to focus on one detail and that’s it. So if I see that person again two days later, I probably won’t recognise them. And yet people say, “Oh but Véronique has no problem making eye contact.” But do they know how much effort that takes?

Do autistic traits change over time?

It’s not really the traits that change — it’s how good we get at masking them. Children are taught how to behave, how to “fit in” socially. And if you come back ten years later, you might not even notice they’re autistic — unless you really know what to look for. Because they’ve learned to hide things so well that they end up going unnoticed.

When I started at onepoint, I told my team I was autistic. They were told how I function. But the thing with autism is that it’s an invisible disability. And because I’m pretty good at masking, after a while they just kind of forgot I was autistic.

Then one day, I had a massive panic attack. I was so exhausted that I couldn’t mask anything anymore. They saw me as I truly am — as I actually function. And that day, they told me, “It’s unbelievable — it’s like there are two completely different people.”

There’s everyday Véronique, who you’d never suspect for a second. And then there’s the autistic side. For them, it was like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

Are you ever truly yourself around others?

No. Never. I’m part of a generation I call the “lost generation”. Back then, people didn’t talk about autism unless there was an intellectual disability. So getting diagnosed simply wasn’t an option.

That means we were trained — even in our own families — to hide behind a mask. And we’ve been doing it ever since.

Are there different types of autism?

Nowadays, we only talk about Autism Spectrum Disorder — ASD — and it’s classified into three levels of severity: mild, moderate and severe.

Mild autism means you can live more or less normally day to day. Your traits aren’t so strong that you’re unable to function in society. You can live in society — even if society doesn’t always welcome you.

The real question is: how intense are your autistic traits?

You spend a lot of time trying to understand neurotypical people. What does that mean?

I don’t know if others are like me. But when I meet someone, I have no idea how to speak to them. I don’t know what kind of communication they expect. I don’t know what they want from me — and that’s caused a few problems over the years. Sometimes I’ve hurt people without meaning to.

I need to understand what’s behind certain phrases. Like when someone I’ve met twice says, “We’re friends now!” — I don’t get it. So I try to understand how humans work, because to me it’s completely baffling.

There are loads of cues I just don’t pick up on. You could ask 90% of autistic people and they’d say the same thing. People have often said to me, “You keep flirting with the waiter!” And I’m like — what? No I wasn’t! And they go, “Yes you were — you were using all the classic flirting cues!” I had absolutely no idea.

And the opposite happens too. Someone will say, “Can’t you see he was flirting with you?” And I thought he was asking for my number because he needed information. I thought it was just a practical request.

Disability and ableism

People often talk about ableism, and I still struggle to understand exactly what it means. Like, if I tell a colleague, “I’m struggling today because I’m exhausted” or “There was too much noise,” and they reply, “Yeah well, I’m tired too” — is that ableism? I don’t know. I find the whole concept quite hard to grasp. And I’m not sure where it’s meant to lead us. But again, maybe that’s just because I’m older.

Society runs on norms

We’d all love to live in a society where disability is taken into account. But the reality is, society is built on norms. That’s just how it is. If you want to build systems that work for the majority, you need some kind of baseline.

I always worry I’ll offend someone by saying this, but I honestly believe that yes — society needs to do better to include disabled people. No doubt about that. But I also think disabled people have work to do too. For a society to function, effort has to come from both sides. Otherwise it just doesn’t work.

When activism becomes uncomfortable

When people bring up ableism, I often get a bit of a red flag… Like, okay, are we dealing with full-on activism now — the kind that says disability must always be recognised no matter what? That makes me uncomfortable, but it’s just how I see things.

Growing up with visible disability

You know, I’ve known disability my whole life. My twin sister — who has passed away now — was born with a severe physical disability. Only half of her heart worked.

We spent our whole lives just trying to help her survive. I saw firsthand how people reacted to her — because of her scars, because of her blue skin. And the way people treated her… they should have been ashamed. She had visible differences. So imagine how they treat people whose disabilities aren’t visible.

It’s about basic decency

To me, it’s not about “ableism”. It’s just about basic decency. Just accept other people. Even if you don’t understand their difference, accept that it exists. That not everyone fits the same mould — and that’s OK.

And on the other side, if you’re the one who’s different, accept that people might have questions. My sister had scars, and people sometimes asked her directly, “What are those scars?” She was fine with answering. But people who looked at her with disgust — that’s not OK.

When doing nothing is best

Sometimes, no reaction at all is better than a bad one. I’ll give you two different examples.

When I have panic attacks, it’s obvious. Because it’s a panic attack — I can’t speak, I stammer like mad.

Not long ago, I was in a shop with my older sister. She said, “I’ll just pop over there” — it was literally going to take 30 seconds. But there was a child nearby with a balloon. And the balloon popped. I immediately had a reaction. It wasn’t anyone’s fault — it happens. But the person next to me panicked and tried to grab me, to stop me from reacting.

They meant well, but they ended up doing more harm than good — because they didn’t know what to do.

They could have just said, “OK, something’s wrong, but she’s clearly not dying.” But no — people feel like they have to act. Some do it with kindness. Others behave like idiots.

But in moments like that, I’d rather people did nothing. Just say, “Take your time. If you need anything, let me know. Otherwise, take the time you need.”

Inclusion gone wrong

That’s the kind of thing that makes me feel like society is the real problem. We keep telling people, “You must be inclusive,” or “You must act properly around disabled people,” and it pushes them to act — even when they shouldn’t.

Sometimes, just let people through

I remember seeing a mum at the supermarket, queuing at the till with a child who clearly had a disability. Whatever the condition was doesn’t matter — it looked a lot like autism, but that’s not the point. The child was screaming, totally overwhelmed. Yes, it’s annoying. It’s annoying for everyone. But if there’s one thing we should normalise, it’s the idea that “yes, this is annoying”.

This mum was clearly desperate, trying to cope. You want to help her? Don’t ask whether she has a priority card. Just let her through. That day, people turned against her — she was in tears.

And honestly, even if the child wasn’t disabled — maybe he was just ill, or hadn’t slept — that mum was at breaking point. Sure, there are kids who are badly behaved. Sure, there’s all sorts of situations. But none of that changes the fact that, on that particular day, something was wrong. And whether it’s a disability or not doesn’t matter. The point isn’t the disability — it’s how we handle the situation.

Everyone can struggle

We can all find ourselves in a moment where we’re not OK. My sister is going through a rough patch right now — she’s had a few panic attacks. She’s not disabled. But if she ends up in a supermarket queue, not feeling well, and someone says, “Do you even have a priority card?” — then yes, that’s a problem.

It’s true, things like a priority card do help. I have one — thank goodness — and it sometimes lets me skip queues that are too long. But the reality is, sometimes other people are struggling more than I am.

What should people avoid doing when they want to help a disabled person?

The danger of forced kindness

Some people force their help onto others. I call that the Amélie Poulain syndrome. And I can’t stand that film — because she wants to make people happy whether they like it or not.

Good intentions, bad impact

I also don’t like it when people say things like, “Someone grabbed my wheelchair and started pushing without asking.” Yes, of course that’s inappropriate. But usually, the person meant well. Just tell them — calmly. It’ll be fine. We’re allowed to communicate. We don’t have to shout.

Kindness isn’t a crime

On social media, I’ve seen people say, “Did I ask for help? No. So why are you offering?” But honestly — that’s just common respect. It’s part of being open to others.

The limits of militant discourse

That’s what bothers me with some of the talk around ableism. People say we should aim for inclusion — but we don’t always treat others better ourselves.

I’ve noticed there’s a big difference in how this is perceived between younger and older people, including among Disabled people.

When I talk to my nieces about certain topics, there’s a very activist tone. In my generation, much less so. We might have a bit more resilience about some things. But I think sometimes, we were too resilient. And they might sometimes be too angry and too militant. There’s a balance to find. Because anger leads to hate…

I’m someone who’s deeply angry. People get on my nerves, I really struggle to understand them, and the older I get, the more I think, “it’s just not possible to share the same humanity as these people.” But I don’t want that anger to shape how I see others.

Once we understand that a norm only exists to exclude people, and we look at who is closest to that norm, I think we’ll have made some progress.