From Puzzle Pieces to Infinity:

Thoughts on Autism Symbols

After my latest blog post, I received a few messages asking what I think about the new symbol for autism—the gold infinity loop.

To be honest, I didn’t even know it existed. I’ve long had little time for new slogans or trendy symbols when it comes to autism. What matters more, in my view, is how we understand autism—and more importantly, how we support autistic people, especially the most vulnerable: those who need 24/7 care, and those who cannot express themselves in words.

A quick online search told me this: "the gold infinity symbol is used to represent autism acceptance, particularly within the autistic community. It’s a variation of the rainbow infinity symbol used to represent neurodiversity more broadly. Gold was chosen because its chemical symbol is “Au”—the first two letters of “autism.” Some autistic individuals prefer the solid gold version, citing sensory sensitivities to the rainbow’s brightness." (There are many variation of it)

Well, I can confirm it is overwhelming. (How do I unsee it?) Whoever came up with this idea doesn’t seem to have consulted many autistic individuals who actually struggle with sensory processing. Research, in fact, suggests that yellow is one of the least preferred colours among autistic people, while green and brown are generally more soothing (e.g., Grandgeorge & Masataka, 2017).

But rather than rely solely on my own reaction (and sensory sensitivities – the yellow colour physically hurts my eyes), I decided to ask four of my high-functioning autistic friends, from three different countries, what they thought of the infinity symbol and the new wave of messaging it represents.

Below is a compilation of their thoughts. For this post, every “I” refers to a different contributor—not just one voice, but five.

On the Symbol Itself: What Does Infinity Mean?

"I have a real issue with autism being represented by the infinity symbol. Infinity is a complex abstract concept—something limitless, boundless. But which infinity are we talking about? Mathematical, physical, metaphysical? Is it the number of points on a continuous line? Infinite time or space? Or is it about some cosmic absolute? I’m literal-minded—if I can’t pin it down, it’s unsettling."

On the Message of 'Endless Possibilities'

"They say the infinity symbol represents 'the endless possibilities that exist for autistic people when their differences are accepted.' That may apply to some. But my daughter, now approaching 40, needs round-the-clock care. Diagnosed before she turned 3, she was non-verbal until her teens and remains echolalic. We help her every day with basic tasks—dressing, washing, communicating.

She enjoys jigsaw puzzles with me (which is why I’ve always liked the old autism puzzle piece symbol). She wouldn’t understand abstract ideas like 'infinity.' She's been accepted and cherished by our family from day one—but symbols like this one don’t represent her.

My biggest concern? Who will care for her when we’re gone?"

On Visual Impressions and Literal Interpretations

"My first reaction when I saw it? It reminded me of the severe end of the spectrum—children walking in circles, flapping toys in front of their eyes. These repetitive movements, though seemingly purposeless, often help them manage sensory overload and anxiety.

The word ‘infinity’ also bothers me. It literally means something without end —endless time, space, numbers. That’s a heavy, abstract label to put on something so human and individual as autism."

On Neurodiversity and Abstraction

"The gold infinity symbol is supposedly for autism, but it’s a version of the rainbow infinity loop that represents neurodiversity. However, aren’t all people neurodiverse in some way? Why can’t autism have its own symbol—something concrete and easily understood by the majority of autistic people, many of whom are literal thinkers and struggle with abstract language?"

*****

It’s easy to get caught up in the search for new symbols, new slogans, new ways to “reframe” autism. But the risk is that these abstract concepts become so polished, so removed from the daily lived reality of many autistic individuals, that they stop representing them at all.

Not everything has to be shiny or new. Not everything has to be metaphorical or aspirational. Sometimes, the most powerful way to accept autism is not through symbols—but through sustained, patient, and quiet support of those who live it every day.

As one friend noted, only half-jokingly: Brave New Neurodiverse World, indeed.