As a Gen Xer, I am more than happy to blame Millennials for the scourge on society known as gender reveal parties.
Gender reveals were kind of cute to begin with – the expecting couple might cut into a cake and find pink for a girl or blue for a boy. Or they might open a big box and out would pop the appropriately colored balloons.
Friends and family would clap, cheer, and cry alongside the parents to be. It was sweet, and a new baby is always worth celebrating.
Once gender reveal videos started popping up on social media, however, it seemed like every couple expecting a baby had to do a gender reveal. But not just any gender reveal, a reveal that outshone every reveal that came before it. There's apparently a lot of clout riding on it.
And, boy, did things get out of hand.
We've seen expectant parents light up the world's tallest building in Dubai, enlist a 4,000-pound hippopotamus to chomp its way through a watermelon filled with blue Jell-O, and even stage a professional wrestling match between pink- and blue-clad competitors.
And those were the successful reveals.
Others have involved homemade explosives, massive wildfires, and even a plane crash. People have actually died in the pursuit of the perfect gender reveal.
All to announce something that could have been accomplished with a phone call to Grandma or special cupcakes
Gen Z has apparently now eagerly grabbed the reveal baton from Millennials and put their own spin on it.
Let me introduce to you: autism reveal parties.
Yes, they are a thing, and I learned about them earlier this year when a friend of my college-aged daughter threw one of these reveals for herself. After years of wondering about her quirkiness, she had gone through testing to determine if she could rightfully wear the newest badge of honor: neurodiversity (AKA, autism).
We’ve moved on from “is it a boy or a girl” …..that’s so passé! Now we have parties to see “if it’s autism or adhd”. They are all so happy for her. I have no words. https://t.co/vn20G6ZMcr
— Jennifer 🟥🔴🧙♀️🦉🐈⬛ 🦖 (@babybeginner) October 31, 2026
My daughter was the baker of the cake and, thus, the first to know the results. When the big reveal came – not autistic! – attendees weren't sure if that was good or bad.
After all, being "neurodivergent" has become a catchall for excusing weird and/or bad behaviors, so lots of young adults hope for a diagnosis rather than look inward to discover where things might have gone wrong.
Many of these Gen Z "autists," of course, self-diagnose rather than face the idea that there's no excuse for their weirdness.
As the mother of a young adult son who actually is on the spectrum – and would rather not be and is doing everything he can to be "normal" – I am disgusted that so many young people desperately crave this label.
It's not a cute lapel pin that makes you special and gives you access to a special club; it is, however, years upon years of IEPs, fights for services, tears, tantrums, special therapies, sensory issues, altered dreams, and so much more.
Newsflash to most of the autism wannabes out there: you didn't fall through the cracks and go your whole life undiagnosed. You've simply arrived at adulthood and discovered you're not prepared. Affixing a label and excusing your behavior isn't going to change that.
For families like mine, autism isn't an identity to be taken for a test drive or a quirky personality trait to be celebrated with cake and confetti. It's a daily reality, one that comes with challenges and harsh realities that most of the people romanticizing the diagnosis probably never stopped to consider.
