As a low support / "high functioning" (which feels like a toxic phrase for "good at masking and compensating") autist, it's easy for me say "I'm just different" and blame my disadvantages on a society that fails to accomodate for that divergence. I often stay away from spaces where I know I won't be comfortable, I miss out on events I fear may overwhelm me, I retreat when I don't feel like I can handle navigating the minefield of social interaction. I'm excluding myself from things, because I know (or fear) those things won't cater to my differences, but I'm not universally unable to participate, so it feels less like a disability to me (more on that later).

That most certainly doesn't hold for people whose "functioning" is more severely impaired. If you respond to unexpected changes with anxiety attacks because you can't adjust quickly, that certainly presents a disability in the literal sense and a challenge in dealing with everyday occurrences.

I feel like the shift away from calling it a disability is partially due to the stigma of treating people with disabilities as lesser, partially because it's not always a visible physical disability and I've seen people argue that it's not a real disability. Both of those are bad, but instead of engaging them, It's sometimes easier to sidestep. Instead of arguing whether I'm disabled or not, I'll call it a neurodivergence, because my brain being different is something that's beyond argument.

There is also the opposite to disdain or dismissal: Pity or praise. Instead of treating me as defective or overdramatic, some people have responded with some form of "oh you poor thing, that must be hard" or "you're so strong, making your way through life despite those challenges".
The first one may be half-right, but it just feels like something you'd say when you don't know what's appropriate and are trying to play it safe with the empathy angle.

The second feels hollow, because I don't feel stronger. I struggle far more than I could even express, because expressing thoughts in itself is a struggle. I spent forever writing this comment. To consider myself stronger than others would require me to somehow quantify my difficulties and weigh them up against theirs. I don't think that's productive. I think it will lead to some form of "suffering olympics", which is a mindset I'd like to avoid.
And really, what else would I do? Sit in a corner and cry about the injustice of the universe? Might as well curse the sun for being hot, it doesn't change anything. Better to look for shade instead of dwelling on the problem.

I don't want people to treat me like I'm subhuman, nor like I'm superhuman. I don't want people to invalidate my difficulties, nor make a point of dwelling on them. I want people to acknowledge that this is how I work, to understand if I'm doing something "wrong" or have difficulties, possibly help me if it's reasonable.
I don't need a lot of accommodation, just some patience, understanding when I express myself poorly or do things a certain way that suits me more and maybe someone to handle difficult communication on my behalf. So I wouldn't describe myself as disabled, whether or not that would be accurate, because of the social baggage that word carries. I'd rather leave the relevant help resources for those that need it more.

That's not to discount anyone else's self-description. If you feel like "disability" fits your condition, I'm not going to invalidate that. You know your experience better than anyone else. In fact, I can see an argument that my self-exclusion as response to my difficulties presents some degree of disability to participate.

I'm still fighting my own preconceptions on that, and it probably is part of the reason I don't feel like disabled is an accurate description for msyelf. I've grown up with a certain set of convictions and prejudice that I've deeply internalised. I've mostly managed to expunge them when it comes to others, occasionally still catching myself in some judgmental train of thought and then consciously derailing it, but I have difficulties accurately and productively reflecting on my own self-perception. In a way, it's both the least outwardly toxic, yet most self-destructive form of hypocrisy, and I don't know how to deal with it.

As for the romanticisation, I feel like that might be the result of efforts to fight the stigma having overshot their goal due to survivorship bias. Yes, people with ASD may have unique talents too. Yes, we're not all entirely disadvantaged. Yes, ASD doesn't automatically make us strictly less capable.

But most of us aren't some insane genius. You just wouldn't make a big deal out of the average, so the media report on the extraordinary instead. And if someone's only contact with the topic is through media that show the savants, it's easy to forget that what they see isn't representative.