The Importance of Maintaining Strong Professional Boundaries as an Autistic Black Woman

When I first started my job, I didn’t set strong boundaries.

Part of that was because I was new. I wanted to build rapport with everyone and get to know the people around me. Another part of it was related to how I process social situations. As an autistic person, my social processing can be slower. I don’t always recognize patterns in people’s behavior right away, especially when I’m still learning the environment.

Because of that, I found myself becoming what one of my coworkers later jokingly called an “emotional trash can.”

People would come into my workspace to vent, gossip, or talk about things that didn’t align with my values. Sometimes they would ask probing personal questions about my life, my opinions, or my experiences. At the time, I answered honestly because I assumed conversations were happening in good faith.

But eventually, I began noticing a pattern.

Information that had been shared casually would show up later in conversations with other people. Stories would be reshaped or retold in ways that subtly shifted how people were viewed. It started to become clear that certain conversations weren’t really about connection—they were about collecting information.

That was the moment I realized I had been casting my pearls before swine.

Not everyone deserves access to you, your thoughts, or your personal experiences.

Around that same time, I also became aware that there may have been some tension related to a position I had been placed in at work. It was a role I hadn’t even asked for, but sometimes workplace dynamics create silent competition. When people believe someone has been “given” something they wanted (especially someone new), it can create resentment that shows up in indirect ways.

Once I recognized the pattern of gossip and information being used strategically, I decided to set a boundary.

I stopped engaging in certain conversations.
I stopped sharing personal information.
I became more protective of my space and my time.

And almost immediately, the dynamic shifted.

After the boundary was set, I began noticing subtle behaviors that seemed retaliatory. In particular, certain things began happening that targeted my sensory sensitivities.

For autistic people, sensory sensitivities are neurological. They are not personality quirks or character flaws. But sometimes when people don’t understand autism, those traits can be misinterpreted—or worse, intentionally framed in negative ways.

Because I recognized what was happening, I chose to address it directly with management. I explained that I am autistic and that some of the traits they might notice are related to sensory processing and neurological differences. My intention wasn’t to get anyone in trouble, but to create clarity so that my traits could not be misrepresented as something they were not.

Interestingly, during that conversation, I even advocated for the coworker involved. I suspected they might have ADHD, and I suggested that allowing them to wear headphones again—as we had been allowed to when we first started the job—might help them focus and reduce the tension that had been building.

My goal was understanding, not punishment.

However, the behavior continued, and eventually I asked if we could have a direct conversation about what had been happening.

By that point, I had also been noticing a broader pattern of unprofessional conversations in the workplace, including discussions involving race and disability that made me uncomfortable. Because of that, I had begun documenting specific instances of conversations and behaviors that I felt crossed professional boundaries.

When the meeting finally happened, the situation became more complicated than I expected.

Group dynamics are difficult for me as an autistic person, especially when communication is indirect or when there are multiple interpretations of events happening at once. On top of that, the manager responsible for facilitating the conversation was someone many employees already did not respect, which made it harder for the discussion to stay productive.

Because there had already been miscommunications leading up to the meeting, the entire situation was quickly reframed as “drama.”

This is something many autistic people experience. When we try to clarify patterns we have observed or address issues directly, it can be dismissed as conflict or overreaction—especially if others have already formed opinions about us.

Throughout the process, I received several apologies.

But many of those apologies were paired with denials that certain conversations had ever happened, even though I had personally heard them. That creates a difficult position. I am someone who believes in taking accountability when I’m wrong, but I’m not willing to apologize for things I did not say or do.

At a certain point, I had to accept a simple truth:

If people refuse to acknowledge their behavior, there is no real resolution to be had.

So I made a decision.

I revoked access.

I stopped allowing certain people into my personal space.
I stopped engaging in conversations that crossed my boundaries.
And I stopped feeling obligated to maintain social comfort for people who were unwilling to take accountability.

Boundaries are not punishment. They are simply the end of access.

One of the biggest lessons I learned from this experience is that rapport without boundaries creates vulnerability—especially for autistic people who may take longer to recognize unhealthy social dynamics.

Not everyone deserves access to your personal life.
Not everyone deserves access to your thoughts.
And not everyone deserves continued access to you after they misuse it.

Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is close the door and move forward.

Key Takeaways

1. Rapport without boundaries can make you vulnerable.
Wanting to connect with coworkers is natural, but sharing too much too early can create opportunities for information to be misused.

2. Autistic people often recognize harmful social patterns later—but that doesn’t make the patterns less real.
Delayed recognition is not the same thing as misunderstanding.

3. Your neurological traits should never be used as character attacks.
Sensory sensitivities, processing differences, and communication styles are part of autism—not moral failures.

4. Documentation can protect you.
Keeping track of patterns and examples can provide clarity when situations escalate.

5. You are not obligated to maintain access for people who misuse it.
Boundaries are not about controlling others. They are about deciding what behavior you will allow around you.