As the mother of an autistic 6-year-old, I am deeply alarmed by Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s latest claim that Tylenol causes autism. This idea has been thoroughly discredited by physicians and diagnostic experts. Autism has a clear genetic component, yet in a country where skepticism toward science runs deep, myths like these continue to thrive, fueled by falsified studies and amplified by algorithms on platforms like TikTok and Instagram.
We’ve been here before. In 2005, more than 5,000 families sued vaccine companies, convinced by the false claim that vaccines were to blame for their children’s autism. RFK Jr. has built his career on fueling that fear. He dismisses science and speaks as if we all did not witness how the COVID-19 vaccine helped stop our country from losing countless lives to this virus.
I was a teenager in the ’90s when I first used the internet for research, and by my early 20s, I was part of the elder-millennial wave that overshared on MySpace, Facebook and LiveJournal. Yet that “oversharing” became something powerful: It gave neurodivergent adults a way to find one another and recognize that autism wasn’t a single, rigid category but a spectrum of experiences. The release of the DSM-5, or Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, in 2013 confirmed what many already knew: It recognized autism as a spectrum and allowed for co-diagnoses like ADHD and autism, which have mirroring traits, rather than forcing clinicians to choose one over the other as the DSM-IV had.
Social media has since amplified both harm and hope. On one hand, conspiracy theories spread faster than ever. Kennedy’s claim about Tylenol is only the newest chapter in a long history of exploiting parents’ fears. On the other hand, online spaces have given autistic people a platform to share their experiences, to challenge outdated stereotypes and to assert that autism is not something to be “cured” but an identity to be understood, respected and embraced through the incorporation of neuroinclusivity across every system, from workplaces to schools.
As a mother, I’ve seen firsthand the beauty of my child’s mind and the unique ways they move through the world. Autism is not a tragedy — it is part of human diversity. The real tragedy lies in how society responds: by underfunding accessibility and the support systems that families with neurodivergent children depend on, and by letting conspiracy theories drown out science. When public figures like RFK Jr. stoke fear instead of compassion, the result is more stigma, more division and fewer resources for the families who need them.
Most worrisome is how this rhetoric frames autism as something to be eliminated. History reminds us how dangerous it is when societies view disabled people as disposable. We cannot afford to repeat those mistakes under the guise of “health” or “cures.”
The truth is that autism has always been here. It did not suddenly appear with vaccines, Tylenol or the rise of the internet. What has changed is our awareness. Science has advanced, diagnostic criteria have evolved and autistic voices are finally being heard. We cannot allow that progress to be undone by recycled lies disguised as the gospel of truth.
We are at a crossroads. We either stay silent, paralyzed by anxiety about how to make a difference in this dystopian America, or we act. One path leads deeper into conspiracy and fear; the other leads back to leaders who are both qualified and compassionate — people who put evidence, health and humanity first. The choice is ours. We must channel our inner strength to speak out, campaign and demand better leaders in our community. If we do, RFK Jr. will not shape the future of this country. He will remain what he should be: a cautionary tale, a reminder of what happens when fear is allowed to shout louder than truth.
