On Behalf of All Autistic People, I Apologize for Elon Musk

By Michael Kelman Portney

It’s time someone said it. On behalf of the autistic community: I’m sorry for Elon Musk.

I know, I know—it’s not technically our responsibility. He’s one guy. A very rich guy. And none of us asked him to self-appoint as the unofficial mascot for autistic brilliance with his casual SNL declaration of being on the spectrum. But here we are. Elon’s out here wilding on social media, throwing wrenches into spaceships, and making the world collectively cringe. And since no one else is stepping up to own it, it looks like I’m going to have to be the one to apologize.

So, to humanity: my bad.

Why I’m Apologizing

Elon Musk is, let’s face it, the kind of person who makes us autistic folks look both amazing and insufferable at the same time. On the one hand, he’s out there building rockets, revolutionizing electric cars, and trolling billionaires. On the other hand, he’s also tweeting like a 14-year-old with zero impulse control and hosting Twitter Spaces where he’s one awkward pause away from declaring himself king of Mars.

The problem is, every time he does something… Elon, people give us that look. You know the one. The “Is this what all autistic people are like?” look. The “Do you also call yourself a genius while setting money on fire and naming your kid X Æ A-12?” look.

I don’t blame them. It’s a fair question. And honestly, the answer is no—but also, sometimes, kind of yes.

Elon: The Autistic Stereotype on Steroids

Elon Musk embodies all the autistic stereotypes you’d find on a poorly-researched Wikipedia page:

Obsessive focus? Check.

Blunt to the point of chaos? Double check.

Socially awkward, with the charm of a malfunctioning AI? Oh, absolutely.

But then he cranks it all up to 11. He’s like the final boss of autistic stereotypes, and it’s exhausting. While most of us are out here masking to avoid awkwardness, Elon is over there ripping the mask off and launching it into space, yelling, “This is who I am, deal with it!”

And I respect the confidence, but also, damn, man. Couldn’t you tone it down just a little?

The Twitter Problem

Elon’s Twitter reign deserves its own apology. Because if you thought running a social media platform would humble someone, think again. Instead, it’s like watching someone give the world’s wealthiest toddler a megaphone.

One day, he’s tweeting half-baked memes and questionable polls. The next, he’s unbanning accounts that make even the darkest corners of the internet say, “Too far, dude.” And every time he does, I imagine the collective sigh from autistic folks everywhere, as we mutter, “Not all of us, I swear.”

But Here’s the Thing…

For all his Elon-ness, there’s something undeniably autistic about his whole deal. The hyperfocus. The inability to read the room. The tendency to think, “Why follow the rules when I can invent my own?”

That’s why, as much as I’m here to apologize for him, I also kind of get it. Elon’s brain is clearly operating in a different gear—one that’s capable of envisioning Mars colonies and self-driving cars, but also completely incapable of understanding why nobody laughed at his “pronouns are prosecute/Fauci” tweet.

He’s a walking contradiction. A brilliant, cringeworthy, meme-tweeting contradiction. And that, my friends, is peak autism energy.

So, Humanity, I’m Sorry. But Also, You’re Welcome.

On behalf of the autistic community, I apologize for Elon Musk. For the weird tweets, the bizarre business decisions, and the occasional lapses in basic humanity.

But I also want to remind you: we didn’t ask for this. We’re out here minding our own business, solving puzzles, and hyperfixating on niche interests that don’t involve buying a $44 billion social media company. Elon’s chaos is entirely his own.

And yet, for all his faults, you have to admit: the guy makes life more interesting. Rockets, Teslas, flamethrowers, and Mars—he’s doing what most of us only dream about, even if he’s doing it in the most Elon way possible.

So, while I’m sorry for the cringe, I’m also kind of proud. He’s proof that autism, in all its chaotic brilliance, can shake up the world. For better or worse.

Just… don’t judge the rest of us by him, okay?

We’re trying.