Abstract
The article analyzes the participation of young autistic people in sport, highlighting the contradictions inherent in inclusive policies. Although inclusion is presented as a right, this study examines how participation may be shaped by implicit criteria related to adaptation to behavioral and sports performance norms. Through a qualitative survey of sports clubs, the study reveals that these young people are often forced to standardize their behavior and progress. The analysis suggests that those who struggle to meet these requirements may experience gradual exclusion, either directly by coaches or through processes of self-exclusion linked to excessive pressure. In this sense, inclusion may operate as a form of selective participation, favouring young people who are able to adjust to dominant standards. Based on the findings, the article discusses implications for rethinking sports systems in ways that better value diverse trajectories and avoid conditional forms of inclusion.
Introduction
The inclusion of young autistic people in physical activities and sports is often presented as an initiative to promote their social participation and well-being. However, researchers have already shown (Jeanes et al., 2018; Geidne and Jerlinder, 2016; Goodley, 2017; Grenier and Giese, 2022; Peers, 2012; Townsend and Cushion, 2022) that this inclusion is sometimes based on implicit criteria that condition their participation on an ability to adapt to behavioural and performance norms, specific to mainstream sport. Behind institutional and political rhetoric promoting accessibility for all, several studies have pointed to significant tensions between stated objectives and practical realities.
In this article, inclusion is not understood as mere access to sporting activities, but as the possibility of meaningful participation and sustained engagement. As Kiuppis (2018) argues, inclusion in sport differs from educational contexts, as it is shaped by voluntary participation and specific organisational and performance logics.
Against this background, these contradictions are not only the result of local resistance or a lack of resources, but are also inherent in public policies of inclusion in sport. As Grenier and Giese (2022) have shown, policies to promote access to sport for disabled people are often based on paradoxical injunctions: they promote equal access while imposing ableist standards, making participation contingent on an individual's ability to adapt rather than on a genuine transformation of sporting frameworks. Ableism here refers to a value system that privileges bodies and minds considered normal or capable, while stigmatising those who deviate (Campbell, 2009; Primerano, 2022). This ideology imposes rigid normative frameworks that condition the social participation of disabled people on their ability to conform to these standardised ways of being and doing. This logic echoes Foucault's analysis of the mechanisms of normalisation that run through modern institutions, of which sport is an extension. From this perspective, the normalisation of behaviour is not only a condition of access, but also a tool for controlling and subjectivising deviant bodies (Foucault, 1975; Tremain, 2005). These tensions appear particularly visible in the case of young autistic people, for whom inclusion in so-called ‘ordinary’ sports clubs ‒ i.e., outside the framework of institutionalized adapted sports ‒ remains subject to implicit expectations of behavioural conformity and progress. This article will therefore focus exclusively on non-disabled sports contexts, where inclusion policies are designed to promote the participation of young autistic people in groups composed exclusively of neurotypical children. This raises the question of whether sporting institutions tend to externalise the responsibility for inclusion onto families and educators, asking them to compensate for the system's deficiencies rather than to challenge the norms that structure access to sport (Grenier and Giese, 2022). Inclusion in sports clubs cannot therefore be analysed solely at the level of individual practices, but must be considered from a broader perspective, questioning the way in which sports policies reproduce logics of selection and exclusion under the guise of accessibility. This analysis is also in line with reflections in the French-speaking world on the normativity of institutions and the place of disabled people in society. Gardou (2010) insists that integration logics often conceal unilateral processes of accommodation, in which difference must be merged into the norm rather than recognised as part of human diversity. Stiker (2005) reminds us that the history of disability is inextricably linked to processes of segregation and normalisation, often under the guise of assistance. These approaches shed light on what we will call the dynamics of ‘conditional inclusion’ at work in sporting arenas and place them within a broader critical framework of contemporary forms of ableism.
For many young autistic people, taking part in a sporting activity means being subjected to demands for compliance which, paradoxically, can lead to implicit exclusion. Some are required to demonstrate their ability to regulate their behaviour and emotions, others are tolerated on condition that they demonstrate their ability to progress, while still others find themselves in a situation of self-exclusion in the face of unattainable expectations. Research in the sociology of sport and critical disability studies has highlighted the ableist nature of many sporting structures, even when they claim to be inclusive (Goodley, 2017; McRuer, 2018). Inclusion is often conceived through a logic of normalisation, where individuals are asked to conform to the rules of mainstream sport, rather than seeing these rules adapted to their specificities.
Research on the participation of autistic children and adolescents in physical activity and organised sport has highlighted persistently lower levels of engagement compared to neurotypical peers, particularly in structured and competitive contexts such as physical education and sports clubs (Healy et al., 2013; Menear and Neumeier, 2015). Qualitative studies have shown that participation is shaped by a complex interplay of individual, social, and environmental factors, including perceived competence, sensory sensitivities, social interaction demands, and experiences of being observed, evaluated, or compared to others (Healy et al., 2013; Obrusnikova and Cavalier, 2011). Building on adolescents’ own accounts, Arnell et al. (2018) conceptualised these dynamics as conditional participation, emphasising that engagement in physical activity often depends on the extent to which young autistic people are able or willing to adapt to normative expectations embedded in organised settings. While this body of research has been instrumental in documenting barriers, facilitators, and subjective experiences of participation, it has largely focused on individual perceptions and adjustment processes, with less attention paid to the everyday organisational and normative mechanisms through which inclusion is practically enacted in mainstream sport. Moreover, calls for adaptation and inclusion frequently remain framed in terms of improving individual fit or providing targeted support, without systematically interrogating the implicit behavioural, social, and performance norms that structure participation in ordinary sport environments (Goodley, 2014; Waldron et al., 2023). As a result, the conditions under which inclusion becomes fragile, ambivalent, or unsustainable over time, particularly within volunteer-based sports clubs, remain insufficiently explored.
Research on mainstreaming strategies has highlighted the complex and often ambivalent processes involved in integrating disability sport into mainstream settings, both at organisational and everyday practice levels (Andersson, 2025; Christiaens and Brittain, 2023). These studies show that inclusion policies frequently coexist with persistent ableist norms that shape participation conditions. Complementing this, empirical work in sport and educational contexts has demonstrated how ableist attitudes and practices continue to structure exclusionary experiences for disabled participants, even where inclusion is formally promoted (Carroll et al., 2021).
By examining inclusion as a situated and negotiated process within ordinary sports clubs, the present study seeks to contribute to this literature by shifting the analytical focus from individual barriers to the normative dynamics that shape participation and belonging in organised sport contexts.
This article aims to examine how inclusion in mainstream sports clubs is structured by implicit norms related to behaviour, progress, and performance, and how these norms shape participation, exclusion, and self-exclusion among young autistic people.
More specifically, it explores how these implicit expectations affect young people's sporting trajectories, as well as the experiences of their families and coaches within ordinary sports settings.
To better understand these dynamics, this study is based on a qualitative approach, combining ethnographic observations and interviews with young autistic people, their parents and sports coaches. This methodology will allow us to explore the tensions between institutional discourses of inclusion and on-the-ground experiences, revealing the mechanisms of exclusion that persist within sporting structures.
Methodology
Research design and ethical considerations
This article draws on a sub-corpus from the broader Autisport multi-sited research programme, which investigates the participation of autistic young people across mainstream and specialised sport and physical activity settings in southern France. The present paper focuses specifically on participation in ordinary 1 sports clubs, understood as non-specialised sporting environments primarily designed for neurotypical children and adolescents.
The study follows French national ethical guidelines for research involving human participants and complies with the European General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). Informed consent was obtained from all participants and/or their legal guardians prior to data collection. The research protocol was reviewed and approved by the scientific board of the partner sports federation and by the project's funding body. Particular attention was paid to ethical issues related to confidentiality, anonymisation, and the protection of participants, especially given the limited number of clubs and professionals involved in the regional context.
Fieldwork context and data corpus
The Autisport programme was conducted across multiple sites, including specialised medico-social institutions and ordinary sports clubs. Following a multi-sited ethnographic logic (Marcus, 1998), observations in different settings contributed to a broader understanding of autistic youths’ sporting trajectories. However, the present article deliberately concentrates on data collected in ordinary sports clubs, where inclusion policies explicitly aim to integrate young autistic people into groups composed mainly or exclusively of neurotypical peers.
Fieldwork in these settings was conducted between October 2023 and June 2024 and involved three types of ordinary sports structures located in the same regional area: a swimming club, an athletics club, and a multi-sport club. These sites were selected because they were actively engaged in inclusion initiatives targeting autistic children and adolescents, often presented by professionals as innovative or exemplary practices (Hammond et al., 2019; Jeanes et al., 2018).
The empirical material mobilised in this article consists of approximately 30 h of participant observation conducted during inclusive training sessions, and 15 semi-structured interviews carried out with key actors involved in these sporting trajectories. The interview corpus retained for this article comprised eight interviews with parents, two with coaches or APA professionals, and five with young autistic participants. Given the diversity of communication abilities among the young people involved, interviews with youths were conducted only when conditions allowed for a meaningful and ethically appropriate exchange. In other cases, their experiences were accessed primarily through prolonged observation and through parents’ and professionals’ accounts, in line with methodological recommendations for qualitative research with autistic participants (Nicholas et al., 2019), and were further informed by repeated informal conversations conducted during fieldwork with coaches and, at times, young participants.
Formal interviews were conducted either on site, before or after training sessions, or at another time and place chosen by participants. They were based on a semi-structured interview guide organised around four main themes: sporting trajectories, conditions of access and participation, perceived facilitators and obstacles, and experiences of adjustment, pressure, or exclusion. The wording and sequencing of questions were adapted to the different actor groups. Interviews with parents focused more specifically on access to sport, family involvement and the perceived effects of participation, while interviews with professionals focused on pedagogical choices, inclusion practices and practical constraints; interviews with young people addressed lived experience, enjoyment, discomfort and reasons for continuing or withdrawing.
Ethnographic approach and researcher positioning
The study adopts an ethnographically informed qualitative approach, combining direct observation of sporting practices with interviews and informal exchanges (Reeves et al., 2013). Observations focused on the concrete organisation of training sessions, interactional dynamics between coaches and participants, moments of adjustment or tension, and the implicit norms governing participation, behaviour, and performance. Fieldnotes were produced after each observation session and constituted the primary observational material for analysis. The research design followed an iterative logic, in which observations informed the focus of subsequent interviews, and interviews in turn reoriented attention during later observation sessions. This back-and-forth process helped identify salient situations, implicit norms and moments of adjustment or tension across settings. Repeated informal exchanges during observation sessions also contributed to this process by helping to clarify the meaning of observed interactions and situations.
During fieldwork, the researcher initially adopted a peripheral observer role, progressively moving toward a more participatory position as familiarity with the settings increased. In some contexts, this involved assisting with minor organisational tasks or interacting informally with participants and staff, without assuming a coaching role. This positioning facilitated access to everyday interactions and to the practical constraints faced by professionals, while also shaping how the researcher was perceived by participants ‒ as a familiar but external presence (Emerson et al., 2011).
As a non-autistic researcher with prior experience in adapted physical activity and long-standing collaboration with sport institutions, the researcher's interpretations are necessarily situated. Reflexive attention was therefore paid throughout the research process to the risk of reproducing normative assumptions about behaviour, progress, or engagement (Goodley, 2014, 2017). Analytical caution was exercised in interpreting moments of disengagement, distress, or so-called ‘challenging behaviours’, drawing on insights from critical autism studies and the neurodiversity paradigm, which emphasise the importance of contextualising behaviours within sensory, emotional, and relational environments rather than assessing them against neurotypical norms (Botha et al., 2023; Milton, 2014).
Data analysis
Data analysis followed an inductive and iterative process characteristic of qualitative and ethnographic research (Reeves et al., 2013). Interview transcripts and fieldnotes were analysed thematically (Braun and Clarke, 2006), with attention to recurring patterns across sites and actors. Rather than coding data to confirm predefined hypotheses, the analysis aimed to identify tensions and contradictions emerging from the material itself, particularly those related to behavioural expectations, imperatives of progress, competitive norms, and the conditions under which participation was enabled, limited, or withdrawn.
The analytical process involved constant comparison between observational data and interview material, allowing the articulation of professionals’ discourses with observed practices and participants’ trajectories. This approach made it possible to examine how inclusion was negotiated in practice, and how implicit criteria of belonging or exclusion operated across different sporting contexts (Arnell et al., 2018). Empirical examples are therefore mobilised selectively within the analysis to illustrate broader dynamics identified across the dataset (Schöneich, 2021).
Results
The analysis of the empirical material collected reveals three central mechanisms that condition the inclusion of young autistic people in mainstream sports structures. Firstly, behavioural normalisation, which requires young people to constantly adapt to the interactional and emotional codes of neurotypical children. Secondly, the imperative to progress, which ties the legitimacy of participation to the ability to demonstrate measurable improvement. Finally, the pressure of competition, which fuels a sense of illegitimacy in some young people, to the point where they withdraw from the activity themselves. Furthermore, the analysis shows the psycho-social impact of this conditional inclusion.
The behavioural norm: Inclusion without disruption
The inclusion of young autistic people in sports clubs is based on an implicit and pervasive condition: the ability to adopt behaviours that are considered acceptable according to neurotypical norms. This normalisation of behaviour, which is often not made explicit, becomes a tacit condition for accessing and remaining in ordinary sporting structures. Indeed, our interviews show that autistic children and adolescents are tolerated as long as they do not deviate from implicit expectations of sociability, which include strict adherence to group rules, the absence of behaviour perceived as deviant (repetitive gestures, shouting, sudden movements), and the ability to interact conventionally with peers and staff.
This expectation of behavioural conformity is reflected in initiatives to promote the inclusion of young autistic people. Some sports clubs, for example, despite their commitment to inclusiveness, maintain selection criteria that make access for young autistic people dependent on their ability to adapt to the norms of the group. Over the last ten years, an ordinary sports club in the south of France has developed a programme to include children and young autistic people. Corine, an adapted physical activity (APA) teacher, is in charge of developing this programme, which she describes as a major ‘innovation’ in France. The principle is that children and young autistic people take part in a swimming session as part of an ‘ordinary’ group, with specific support from Corine, who adapts the exercises to suit their needs. In this context, the child or young autistic person swims with neurotypical children or young people. They are therefore considered ‘included’. However, as we will see, this inclusion remains rather marginal and conditional. Corine explains: ‘There are children who can be included and there are others who can't be included… all those who hurt themselves, who bite themselves and all that… it's not possible’.
She also specifies the types of behaviour that make it difficult for certain children to be included in the programme: In this programme there was no question of accepting children who self-harm, you know, who bite themselves, who hit themselves. Because it really freaks the other children out. You have to… […] the greater the degree of the spectrum, the less communication there is and the more inclusion is not possible.
This extract shows that Corine restricts access to the programme to children whose behaviour does not frighten the others, illustrating a sociability condition for their inclusion. This selective approach, which conditions access to the activity according to the children's ability to meet the group's behavioural expectations, is echoed in other experiences of inclusion in sport. While some young people initially manage to join clubs, their continued participation often remains precarious, depending on their ability to adapt to the implicit norms of the sporting environment. This kind of discrepancy between inclusive display intentions and implicit selection practices is also highlighted by Hammond, Penney and Jeanes (2019), who show that in many sports clubs, inclusive arrangements reproduce exclusionary norms if they do not change the conditions of inclusion themselves.
In this context, several parents report that their children were initially welcomed into sports clubs, but that difficulties soon arose, highlighting invisible barriers to their inclusion. These barriers take the form of comments on their behaviour and implicit expectations of conformity which, if not met, gradually lead to marginalisation.
An important example is the case of Sacha, whose mother explains that the archery coach refused to enter him in competitions because he was afraid that he would not be able to handle his emotions in the face of failure: Because there were two or three times when he, I don't want to say he had a crisis… but because he could see that he couldn't do it…. He'd shoot, but the arrow would go the other way […] it would irritate him a bit… so you really had to calm him down and all that. And then, well, there were times when I wasn't there and they had to deal with it. But then she [the coach] made me understand that she couldn't take him into competitions, it wasn't possible.
This testimony illustrates a logic of conditional inclusion, in which young autistic people are welcome as long as they do not display behaviours deemed inappropriate or disruptive by staff. In this case, the anticipation of behavioural difficulties was enough to limit Sacha's participation in competitions without considering any adaptive solutions. This is not full inclusion, but conditional tolerance.
This logic can also be found in the management of children in group classes, where the presence of a parent or accompanying adult is often required to allow participation. For example, Sacha's father reports that the constant presence of a parent was a condition imposed by the rugby club: They [the staff] told me, ‘Yeah, we can take him to play rugby, but you have to be there all the time. Because, as they didn't know, just in case, if there was anything… he screams… well, he screams… he has very few fits… but anyway, they were afraid that…
This testimony highlights the underlying fear that some coaches have when faced with behaviour that doesn't conform to traditional sporting expectations. In reality, this requirement for constant parental presence makes inclusion an additional pressure on families. On the one hand, it means that children can never participate independently, which limits their access to the activity. On the other hand, it reinforces the idea that their mere presence is a risk. Furthermore, this implicit requirement for constant parental presence illustrates a shift in the responsibility for inclusion, which is no longer based on the club's structural adaptation, but on the availability and commitment of families. By outsourcing the management of special needs in this way, the system reinforces a logic of conditional inclusion in which only children who benefit from continuous parental support can participate. This delegation of responsibility to families reflects a refusal to adapt the sporting framework itself, making inclusion an ‘individual burden’ rather than a collective responsibility.
In other cases, this norm of sociability imposes constant behavioural adjustments on young autistic people. Leïla's mother recounts how her daughter's access to equitherapy depended on her ability to understand and follow instructions: Leïla screamed a lot; she couldn't make herself understood because she didn't speak. And she also didn't understand why she had to get the pony afterwards, take it to the stable, take care of it, you know, brush it, clean its hooves and all that. So it's actually a whole protocol that they have. So she didn't really understand, and in fact it started with screaming, screaming, screaming… […] and then after 3-4 months it was fine. She understood, so it was fine.
This example shows how inclusion depends on the rapid acquisition of behavioural norms and attitudes adapted to the structure of the activity. In Leïla's case, access to the activity became possible after several months, once she had integrated these implicit expectations. However, the need for a long process of adaptation testifies to the absence of real adjustments in the environment to promote immediate and unconditional inclusion. In this case, the adaptation effort is entirely the responsibility of the child, without any rethinking of the system to integrate other ways of appropriating the activity. What's more, Leïla's mother mentions that, subsequently, other sports clubs refused to accept Leïla if she did not have the support of a qualified attendant: No other sport… because the problem with autism is that no sports centre will accept your child until you've hired a care-giver to accompany her.
This testimony illustrates another facet of conditional inclusion: in the name of implicit behavioural norms, some clubs impose additional requirements, such as the presence of a dedicated professional, which further limit these young people's access to sport. This requirement creates an additional economic and organisational barrier for families, who have to find and finance a coach, a constraint that does not exist for other children of the same age.
In conclusion, this analysis highlights a sport inclusion that relies heavily on implicit behavioural normalisation. The ability of young autistic people to participate in sporting activities thus depends on their ability to adopt attitudes that conform to dominant social expectations, transforming their presence into an experience of permanent conformity rather than a genuine recognition of their uniqueness.
The pressure to improve: Inclusion challenged by sporting performance expectations
The inclusion of young people with ASD in sport goes beyond mere participation. It is often conditioned by an injunction to progress. In other words, these young people are expected not only to conform to the group's behavioural norms, but also to demonstrate continuous improvement in their performance in order to justify their presence. This demand for perfectibility imposes a double burden on the young individuals and their families, as it transforms the sporting space into a site of constant monitoring and evaluation.
This ongoing pressure to improve echoes what Ehrenberg (1998) describes as the ‘fatigue of being oneself’, a hallmark of neoliberal societies in which autonomy becomes a normative injunction. It intersects here with the ableist expectations denounced by McRuer (2018), who highlights how society demands that disabled people continually prove their worth by conforming to internalised standards of progress.
The example of Ulysse, a 10-year-old autistic child, illustrates this logic perfectly. Enrolled in an inclusion programme at an ‘ordinary’ sports club where Corine works, he is placed in a swimming group with younger neurotypical children and faces implicit pressure to improve. Corine explains that inclusion in this group is based on specific criteria: The minimum is still being able to understand an instruction, whether it's verbal or visual, and to try to carry it out ‒ I'm not even saying to succeed. […] In June, if they haven't progressed compared to last year, I won't take them back. I'll make room for others…
Participation in the inclusive swimming programme is therefore not guaranteed, but depends on each child's ability to progress. Corine thus differentiates between children who can participate in this so-called ‘inclusive’ programme and those who cannot, based on their ability to understand and attempt to follow instructions. This distinction creates an invisible boundary between those who are deemed fit to be included and those who are not, leading to a selective form of inclusion based on perceived potential for progress.
Corine's statements illustrate a form of conditional inclusion: being present and participating is not enough ‒ children must prove that they are making progress. This logic implicitly excludes those who learn at a slower pace or who struggle to meet the assessment criteria set by the coaches. The study shows that this pressure to progress is particularly strong in sports such as swimming, where conformity to codified movements becomes an implicit standard for assessment and continued participation. Parents report that clubs do not hesitate to exclude children who fall behind the general pace of the group, even when the families’ original goal was simply to engage in an activity that was enjoyable and focused on well-being.
In this context, inclusion in sport is often seen as a process of rehabilitation rather than a right to participate. Children whose progress is deemed insufficient risk exclusion, highlighting the selective nature of inclusion in these settings. This logic is consistent with what Peers (2012) describes as an ableist dynamic, in which people with disabilities must conform to the expectations of mainstream sport in order to be tolerated within it.
Observations of Ulysse during the swimming sessions reveal a form of inclusion that is more formal than effective. Corine uses a pole to help him orient himself horizontally in the water. Despite his efforts, Ulysse is unable to follow the instructions; he remains upright in the water, moving his arms and legs in all directions to keep his head above the surface. When Corine extended the pole, he grabbed it to move towards the edge and pull himself out of the water, but he did not follow the other children swimming in front of him.
Throughout the session, Ulysse does not look at Corine, makes high-pitched noises and responds very little to the pictograms she shows him. Corine explains that Ulysse needs to learn the horizontal position on his own, as she believes that accompanying him in the water would not bring any additional benefit. As the session progresses, Ulysse does not join the rest of the group and, although he remains in the same lane, his activity is more akin to an adapted, individualised lesson than to genuine inclusion in a swimming group. Ochs et al. (2001) had already pointed out that inclusion goes beyond the mere physical presence of autistic children in shared spaces. According to them, it requires genuine social and emotional integration. In the context of our study, observation of the session reveals a lack of such social inclusion, despite Ulysse's physical proximity to the other children.
When Corine is asked after the session about the access of autistic children to the programme, she perceives Ulysse's behaviour in the water as a failure. She explains that without significant progress, he will not be able to continue in the programme. His inclusion is thus assessed on the basis of normative indicators of progress and performance, highlighting an approach that does not take into account the diversity of individual trajectories and needs.
As Townsend and Cushion (2022) have noted, inclusion in sport is often based on implicit expectations of normalisation, where difference is tolerated as long as it does not challenge dominant standards. This logic of perfectibility thus amounts to a conditional form of inclusion ‒ one that depends more on children's ability to meet educators’ expectations than on adaptation of the programme to the diversity of its participants. Such an approach inevitably leads to the progressive exclusion of children whose progress is deemed inadequate, thus turning inclusion into a permanent process of selection.
Ulysse's case thus illustrates how inclusion in sport is based less on adaptation to the needs of autistic children than on a demand for conformity and progress. This approach, based on a constant assessment of abilities and potential for improvement, makes children's participation in inclusive programmes dependent on their ability to meet the expectations of the coaching staff.
This mode of operation echoes the analyses of Grenier and Giese (2022), who highlight the role of ableism in the training of physical education teachers. Teachers are often influenced by normative standards of physical and cognitive ability that shape their understanding of inclusion. In this context, Corine believes that a child who cannot progress according to established criteria cannot benefit from adapted learning, resulting in implicit exclusion.
Jeanes et al. (2018) also highlight that, despite inclusive intentions, sports clubs often struggle to create favourable conditions for the inclusion of disabled children. A lack of training for coaches, a lack of pedagogical adaptations and limited resources limit the possibilities for accommodation, thereby reinforcing the exclusion of children whose needs require more significant adaptations.
As such, this type of inclusive programme can be characterised as ableist, in that it imposes normative standards of progress and behaviour as a condition for access to and participation in the activity. This conditional inclusion turns the sporting space into a place of constant selection, where only children who are deemed capable of meeting the expectations of progress are fully accepted. On the other hand, those who do not fit into this achievement-oriented logic are gradually marginalised, revealing the limits of such an approach.
Competitive pressure and self-exclusion: The trials of inclusion
The inclusion of young autistic people in mainstream sports clubs is often a twofold challenge: not only do they have to conform to behavioural norms and expectations of progress, but they also have to cope with competitive pressures that can be particularly demanding. This pressure, inherent in many sporting disciplines, plays a key role in processes of self-exclusion. If a young person feels unable to meet performance expectations, he or she may choose to withdraw ‒ not out of lack of interest, but out of discouragement in the face of the success criteria imposed by the group or the instructors.
As Goffman (1975) points out, self-exclusion can be understood as a strategy to avoid the stigma associated with non-conformity to social norms, a dynamic also highlighted by Revillard (2020) in her analysis of coping strategies among struggling students.
Performance demands and feelings of illegitimacy
Competitive pressures within sports clubs lead some young people, like Noa and Antoine, to withdraw from certain activities when they feel illegitimate or overwhelmed by performance expectations. Their experiences illustrate how theoretical inclusion can lead to de facto exclusion when young athletes no longer feel they belong in a competitive environment.
Noa, for example, recalls that at the age of 14 he decided to stop playing handball after seven years. He explains that his commitment had become too difficult, particularly because of the increasing demands on coordination, which he found difficult to keep up with: Yes, 14 years old, because it just became too hard. It was … well, going there and being asked for more, well, it was … how to say … the coordination ‒ it became more complicated at that point.
His mother adds that his participation became problematic as the demands of performance increased: When he turned 14, things really changed in terms of sport. It became much more tactical, with a lot of speed. He was playing as a winger. It was much too fast in terms of managing the game. And he realised that. Noa said: ‘I can't do this anymore, it's too hard for me’.
The feeling of not being good enough is a recurring reason for self-exclusion. For some young athletes, the acceleration of the game and increased technical expectations make participation in sport a source of anxiety. Noa's mother describes the emotional distress her son experienced when he left the club: You say goodbye to your friends. Because it was the same group for two or three years. You explain why you can't go on. [..] It was a deeply emotional moment. Everyone was crying ‒ Noa and the team-mates who had supported him. It was very intense.
Indeed, it was the pressure of competition and the high expectations of speed and performance that led Noa to quit handball. He experienced a feeling of inadequacy in response to the new demands, which eventually led him to the conclusion that he could no longer continue. This process of realisation was accompanied by an intense emotional moment for Noa, highlighting the psychological impact of his decision ‒ both on himself and on his teammates.
The limits of compatibility with non-disabled sport
For young people like Simon, the competitive expectations of taekwondo ultimately led to disengagement, highlighting the limited accessibility of ‘ordinary’ sport, which remains shaped by a performance-oriented ideology that tends to exclude young people with atypical profiles. This gradual shift from a convivial practice to a competitive logic profoundly alters the experience of young participants. The transition from an educational or recreational framework to one based on assessment and results imposes new relational and technical norms that are often ill-suited to the needs or learning rhythms of young autistic people. This change in context creates discomfort for those for whom technical progression is not the primary goal, but rather enjoyment, safety or social connection.
In the interview, Simon's father explains how the introduction of competition into taekwondo led to his son wanting to quit the activity: What we noticed, for example, in the taekwondo club ‒ it used to be a very family-oriented club ‒ and then gradually, as some individuals improved their skills, it became more and more focused on competition. That's when it got a lot harder, because Simon didn't handle that feeling of pressure very well. That's why he said, ‘I want to quit’.
Simon's father also highlights the impact of certain clumsy behaviours by other participants that contributed to Simon's discomfort: And with Simon, we've supported him so much that he could learn to control himself. And he's done that. But there were times when you could see that he just wanted to leave ‒ even before the competitive focus ‒ because of other people's embarrassing behaviour or things like that. He waited, but… so yes, competition, for sure, later….
Diego's experience in mainstream sport also shows the limits of competitive imperatives in terms of inclusion. For example, when he tried to join a kendo club after the COVID crisis, he had to stop because the club was more focused on competition: Since it was a club that trained mainly for competition, they decided that I didn't really have the… well, they preferred not to humiliate me, so they gently explained that it would be better if I stopped… that I quit.
Diego's mother confirms this impression, explaining that her son clearly had no place in a club where competition was the primary objective: Very quickly, one evening when I was with him, they told me it wasn't possible. He didn't have the level they expected and that was it. They saw that he wasn't progressing in the sessions, so they couldn't do the same techniques with him as with the others. It got complicated for the other practitioners and so on. And we immediately realised that we were in a serious club where disability had no place.
Diego's mother also recalls that when he played football as a child, he was rarely selected for matches: He didn't play much ‒ he did the training sessions, but rarely played, because obviously the goal is still for the teams to win. They're entered in mini-championships and for that, well… Diego didn't really have the competitive spirit or the kind of interaction needed to pass the ball, etc, so it was complicated. He didn't always respond when people called him and so on.
These extracts clearly illustrate how the performance and competitiveness expectations of traditional sports clubs contributed to multiple disruptions in Diego's sporting journey. Although rarely stated explicitly, these expectations create an invisible boundary between young people who are considered ‘integrable’ ‒ because they meet performance standards ‒ and those who are gradually pushed aside because of their differences. This reflects a vision of sport as a space of performance and selection rather than one of inclusive socialisation. Such a structural orientation contributes to rendering certain populations invisible, while maintaining the illusion of inclusion that is open to all.
Thus, ‘ordinary’ sport ‒ often structured by competition ‒ can become an excluding environment for some young autistic people. Performance demands and the implicit pressure to keep up with the group create invisible barriers that, over time, lead some young people to self-exclude. These testimonies highlight the need to rethink current models of sports inclusion in order to provide alternatives that are tailored to the needs and abilities of each individual.
The cost of belonging: Psychosocial consequences of conditional inclusion
Inclusion in sport, when based on neurotypical norms and a constant demand for performance, can have detrimental psychological and social effects on young autistic people and their families. These effects manifest as stress, anxiety, increased pressure to conform and sometimes even withdrawal from sport due to emotional overload. Far from being a space for wellbeing and personal development, sport can become a source of suffering when inclusion is conditioned by expectations that are inappropriate for these young people.
Emotional exhaustion and cognitive overload in young autistic people
Firstly, it is important to emphasise that inclusion in sport can lead to a state of constant hypervigilance for some young people. The need to constantly monitor their behaviour to meet group expectations leads to psychological exhaustion. Simon's father describes his son's experience during training sessions as follows: He would come back from training exhausted ‒ not because of the physical effort, but because he spent all the time trying to do everything right, checking that he wasn't doing anything strange. He was in a state of hypervigilance all the time.
This state of hypervigilance can be understood as a constant effort to make one's difference invisible ‒ a process in which the young person tries to neutralise signs of their uniqueness in order to avoid rejection. This silent work of normalisation comes at a high psychological cost, which is rarely acknowledged by sports organisations. But the demand for conformity is not limited to social interactions within the group; it is also accompanied by competitive pressures that can increase anxiety and discomfort among autistic youth. Beyond the emotional exhaustion caused by hypervigilance, the performance-driven logic embedded in many sports clubs becomes an additional source of stress.
The emotional impact of competitive pressure
Young autistic people may experience significant anxiety in the face of competitive performance expectations. Antoine, for example, decided to stop running after reaching a high level of competition (regional and national champion). He explains that this constant pressure caused anxiety and even physical pain: Because it wasn't doing me any good. I was often very anxious. It stressed me out, it made me anxious and I was tired of having pain all over my body.
His mother confirms that the pressure increased as Antoine progressed. His coach, seeing his potential, kept raising expectations, which eventually led to severe anxiety and a growing aversion to the sport: Since Alain saw that he was improving, it was more and more… but it became too much for Antoine, it didn't suit him anymore. [It was too much pressure for him. I think he felt that maybe a bit too much was expected of him and at some point… I had to force him to go. We saw that it wasn't possible anymore […] it was causing too much anxiety and then […] we said okay, let's stop. In the end, it just wasn't right for Antoine […] he felt way too much pressure.
These excerpts highlight the competitive pressure and high performance expectations that caused Antoine a deep sense of unease and pushed him beyond his physical and psychological limits. Despite his success, the emotional cost of this pressure led to a gradual rejection of the activity. This shift ‒ from a space of enjoyment to one of constraint ‒ signals the failure of inclusion as currently conceived. When sport becomes a source of anxiety, it loses its primary function as a space of fulfilment and reveals the underlying violence of the performance imperative.
Alain, his coach, expresses sincere regret for the way he supported Antoine in competitive sport. He admits that he used a standardised approach ‒ the same as for neurotypical athletes ‒ focused on competition and performance, without taking into account Antoine's specific needs.
Challenging competitive pedagogy: When ableist inclusion transforms a coach's practice
Alain admits that his coaching approach was inappropriate, and that his fundamental mistake was failing to make a personal connection with Antoine before setting competitive goals: I tried to apply everything I knew ‒ my skills in athletics, in competition ‒ I wanted to apply this to adapted sport… The mistake I made was not to establish the relationship before setting the goal….
Alain also regrets not paying enough attention to Antoine's psychological well-being. He points out that while his parents were delighted with their son's successes, for Antoine they had a different meaning: The parents were very happy because they thought ‘we're going to make something of our child’. They were very proud. I remember when he won first place in a big national cross-country championship ‒ the parents were euphoric. It felt like we were giving them a gift, but not the child ‒ because he didn't care….
Over time, Alain came to realise that insisting on this approach was counterproductive. The turning point came when Antoine, in a moment of frustration, threw a stone at him. At that moment, Alain understood that he could no longer force Antoine to compete: So that was really… well, the parents were pushing me to keep going, but in the end he didn't want to. I went against his wishes and one day he threw a stone at me and I said: ‘That's it. We're stopping. There's no point ‒ we're not going to force a child if he doesn't want to…’.
These testimonies reveal a learning process for the coach himself. Alain realised, albeit belatedly, that his competitive approach, inappropriate to the context of adapted sport, had led Antoine to a complete rejection of running. His insistence on performance, to the detriment of the athlete's well-being and enjoyment, exacerbated Antoine's distress to the point that he expressed his refusal through a physical act. This episode led Alain to reflect deeply on his methods and to recognise the need for a more individualised approach that respects the specific needs of young autistic people.
Frustration and discouragement: When pressure to perform undermines inclusion
For others, like Florent, a lack of success in adapted sports competitions ‒ exacerbated by an environment that emphasised performance ‒ led to feelings of discouragement and frustration. Describing his experience of competition, Florent explains: […] when I moved to the senior category, it became much more difficult for me […] in some of the French national championships I took part in, in adapted sports, I came fourth several times […] and that sometimes started to make me feel less motivated.
Sacha's case is also significant in illustrating the disappointment that a competitive sporting environment can cause young autistic people. When Sacha's father talks about his son's experience of rugby, he explains that Sacha was often sidelined because his abilities were deemed incompatible with the club's performance expectations: Just because he wasn't fast enough, you know, to get to the ball […] And that was mostly it… And then he got kind of… discouraged because during training they took good care of him, but as soon as there was a game… he was on the bench and that wasn't… that wasn't fun anymore.
This excerpt highlights that Sacha was often placed on the bench due to his lack of speed and performance, which contributed to his discouragement and sense of exclusion. The gradual exclusion of young autistic people from competitions or training sessions does not only affect them on a personal level. Their families also experience these situations as a form of marginalisation, indirectly feeling the rejection of their child.
Impact on families: Feelings of rejection and disillusionment
In fact, the exclusion or limited participation of a young autistic person in sports activities does not only affect them ‒ it also affects their family. When these children or adolescents are sidelined, their parents also experience a form of marginalization. This is not always explicit, but becomes increasingly present through a series of devaluing experiences. This process, which Goffman (1975) refers to as ‘courtesy stigma’ or ‘stigma by association’, reflects how those close to a person who is perceived as ‘deviant’ in relation to dominant norms end up internalising the social rejection experienced by the individual.
Sacha's mother expresses the feeling of exclusion experienced by the whole family: Even we feel uncomfortable. We're really uncomfortable […] knowing that he could have gone on, that he could have made a bit more progress, done some simple competitions […] But I think at that level we feel a bit rejected.
This statement illustrates how Sacha's implicit exclusion is not limited to his personal experience, but directly affects his parents, who interpret this sidelining as a silent message that they are not really welcome in mainstream sporting settings. This exclusion at the family level resembles a sense of social disqualification, in which individuals begin to doubt their own legitimacy to occupy certain spaces when they perceive a disconnect between the values promoted and their lived reality.
Beyond a simple sense of rejection, this situation creates a tension between institutional discourses and the lived experiences of families. Sports clubs often promote a discourse of inclusion, but in practice meritocratic selection mechanisms create a system in which only certain forms of participation are valued. This dissonance leads to deep disillusionment among parents, who gradually come to realise that equal access to sports participation remains conditioned by implicit criteria of normalisation and performance.
In this context, families not only feel distanced from the sports environment, but are also assigned a specific role: that of parents of a child whose presence in these spaces has to be negotiated, justified or even constantly defended. This uncomfortable position ‒ caught between hope and resignation ‒ can lead some families to withdraw completely from mainstream sporting structures, thereby reinforcing a form of social and institutional self-exclusion.
Discussion : The contradictions of sport inclusion − between Normalisation and self-determination
Analysing the experiences of Antoine, Florent, Leïla, Sacha, Simon, Noa and Diego highlights the tensions inherent in sport inclusion when it is conceived through the lens of performance and conformity to neurotypical norms. Rather than proposing a specific model of inclusion, this article adopts a sociological and analytical perspective aimed at improving understanding of the mechanisms that shape participation, exclusion, and self-exclusion in sport. In this sense, the findings are intended to inform a wide range of actors, including mainstream and specialised sport federations, training bodies, and coaches, by highlighting the conditions under which inclusion becomes fragile or sustainable. Such insights may contribute to improving coach education, facilitating exchanges of expertise between different sport contexts, and enabling young athletes to navigate more fluidly between mainstream and specialised environments, depending on their needs and trajectories. As Silva and Howe (2022) point out, so-called inclusive programmes often remain shaped by ableist logics, where the implicit aim is to normalise bodies and behaviours rather than genuinely embrace the diversity of individual trajectories.
This conditional form of inclusion is based on expectations of progress and integration into dominant norms, placing additional pressure on young autistic people. Competition, far from being a motivational tool, becomes a factor of exclusion ‒ as illustrated by the journeys of those who ultimately withdraw from sport after experiencing emotional overload and implicit rejection.
These dynamics also reveal the damaging effects of conditional inclusion on families. Using Goffman (1975) concept of stigma by association, we can understand that parents are not just passive witnesses to these processes ‒ they too experience exclusion through the gaze of sports institutions. Sacha's mother's testimony illustrates this gradual disillusionment with structures that, under the guise of inclusion, make demands that are misaligned with her son's specific needs.
In such cases, families often internalise these distancing mechanisms, sometimes leading to a form of self-exclusion. Feeling out of step with the normative expectations of clubs, some parents stop insisting that their child be integrated into an environment they perceive as rigid and inhospitable, thereby reinforcing the invisibility of young autistic people in sport.
This observation calls for a rethinking of sports environments through approaches that are more attuned to singular embodied experiences. In this regard, the work of Britton and Foley (2021) offers an interesting perspective : through the study of practices such as surfing and open water swimming, they show how programmes centred on sensation, connection to the environment and attention to individual rhythms can promote well-being without imposing a logic of normalisation. This relational and sensory approach stands in stark contrast to the injunction to control and conform that prevails in many ordinary sports clubs.
Beyond the impact on young people and their families, these tensions also affect coaches, whose practices are shaped by competitive logics. As Alain's experience illustrates, the lack of specific training and the use of standardised methods in the context of adapted sport significantly limits the potential for effective inclusion. Jeanes et al. (2018) highlight that coaches play a crucial role in the success or failure of inclusion policies, yet they are often not equipped to meet the specific needs of young people with disabilities. In Antoine's case, applying the same progression criteria used for neurotypical athletes not only led to a complete rejection of the sport, but also forced Alain to radically rethink his pedagogical approach. This observation echoes the work of Goodley (2017) and Schalk (2018), who advocate for more flexible and reflective approaches to inclusion, moving away from the rigid frameworks imposed by ableist logics.
However, the critique of performance-based inclusion does not imply that competition is inherently harmful for young autistic people. At the same time, inclusion cannot be understood as a uniform or universally desirable process, as individual trajectories, expectations, and experiences may lead some young people to engage differently with sport, including through forms of withdrawal or selective participation. As shown in the work of Beldame et al. (2016), participation in sports competitions can, in certain contexts, foster a sense of personal achievement and have positive biographical effects ‒ in particular by increasing athletes’ self-esteem and autonomy. Silva and Howe (2022) also point out that competition can serve as a tool for empowerment, provided it is conceived within an inclusive rather than exclusionary framework. The real issue, therefore, is not access to competition itself, but the conditions under which it is implemented. As Alain, Antoine's coach, later regretted, failing to take into account the wishes and well-being of young athletes when designing training objectives is a fundamental mistake ‒ one that ultimately leads to a breakdown in their relationship with sport.
It is therefore not simply a matter of allowing young autistic people access to the same spaces and practices as their neurotypical peers, but of redefining the expectations that shape their participation. True inclusion cannot be reduced to a form of tolerance based on adherence to dominant norms; rather, it must be grounded in a logic of self-determination in which young people's aspirations and individual rhythms are fully considered. Goodley (2017) and Schalk (2018) emphasise the need to move beyond normalising approaches and implement more adaptive frameworks that allow for diverse forms of engagement in sport practice.
From this perspective, the challenge is not only to open up mainstream sports clubs to young autistic people, but also to ensure that these spaces are able to recognise and value the plurality of ways in which sport can be practiced and experienced. This critique of the normalisation of behaviour and standardised sporting pathways echoes the manifesto of Adamson et al. (2022), who call for a break with the ableist and performative paradigms that dominate sport and physical activity spaces. According to these authors, a truly inclusive approach requires recognising and valuing non-performing, tired or atypical bodies ‒ without forcing them to conform to norms of health, control or progress.
Conclusion – Rethinking inclusion: Moving beyond ableist norms
The inclusion of young autistic people in sport cannot be reduced to their mere insertion into ordinary sports structures without a transformation of the frameworks that govern them. The analysis proposed in this article highlights the structural logics underpinning inclusion, showing that participation remains largely shaped by implicit norms of behaviour, progress and performance. In this sense, it reveals the tensions between institutional objectives and the concrete conditions of participation, through a critical reading of ableism in sport.
When inclusion is based on expectations that are misaligned with individual needs, it may generate more constraints than opportunities for development. The pressure of competition, the demand for behavioural conformity and the lack of structured support can have significant psychosocial consequences not only for the young people involved, but also for their families, who are confronted with ongoing efforts to justify their child's place in these environments.
These observations are consistent with previous research showing that traditional sport frameworks may reproduce mechanisms of exclusion under the guise of inclusion (Geidne and Jerlinder, 2016; Hammond et al. 2020). By requiring young autistic people to conform to predefined models of behaviour and progression, sport implicitly reinforces a normative vision of participation in which access remains conditional. This phenomenon echoes the dynamics of ‘transactional inclusion’ described by Slee (2011), where inclusion is not an inalienable right but a process contingent on meeting specific expectations.
These findings therefore invite a reconsideration of how inclusion is conceptualised in sport. Rather than implying a complete transformation of sport itself, they point to the need to better take into account the diversity of trajectories, expectations and forms of engagement. In this perspective, inclusion cannot be reduced to a logic of tolerance based on conformity to dominant norms, but should involve greater attention to the conditions under which participation becomes meaningful and sustainable.
More broadly, this calls for a shift towards approaches that recognise the plurality of ways in which sport can be practiced and experienced. Such a perspective requires not only adjustments to sport policies and practices, but also a greater awareness among institutions and coaches of the normative frameworks that shape participation. In doing so, it becomes possible to move beyond conditional forms of inclusion and to promote more flexible and genuinely inclusive sport environments.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank the Fédération Française du Sport Adapté (FFSA) and in particular Élodie Couderc for their support throughout the research process. We are also grateful to all the families, young people, educators and coaches who agreed to share their experiences with us.
Ethical approval and informed consent
The research protocol was approved by the scientific board of the partner sports federation and by the project's funding body. The study adhered to national ethical guidelines and the European GDPR. Informed consent was obtained from all participants and/or their legal guardians.
Funding
The authors declared the following potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was supported by the IRESP–CNSA (Institut pour la Recherche en Santé Publique–Caisse Nationale de Solidarité pour l’Autonomie) as part of the Autisport research programme.
Declaration of conflicting interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Data availability statement
The data generated and analysed during this study are not publicly available due to confidentiality agreements and ethical constraints but are available from the corresponding author on reasonable request.
