An Opinion on Psychology's Blind Spots

Before we start, I want you to chew on something first: In writing this, I am potentially taking a risk that few others face when sharing their identity even in consideration of modern marginalized groups. I’ll explain why later, but for now, consider this question: Are even the best of us truly inclusive?

I am diagnosed with ASPD with psychopathy. I am a high-functioning psychopath with strong cognitive empathy, high IQ, high introspection, healthy relationships, success, and a moral framework informed by moral philosophy that doesn’t align with the usual associations.

A problem I've noticed in psychology, as I’ve tried to better understand myself through appropriate channels, is how overly generic the DSM can be, particularly with overlapping symptoms and broad categories. Even concepts like psychopathy—widely accepted but not included in the DSM—seem built on assumptions that fail to account for introspection or outliers who don’t fit the typical criminal archetype. For example, the heavy reliance on criminal populations in psychopathy research skews how it’s understood, while traits like reward system differences might manifest in ways current models don’t fully capture. And it occurred to me that there seems to be, on the clinical side at least, a real problem and difficulty in identifying these small n's.

My broader curiosity lies in what this implies about psychology as a whole. It seems there are subtypes and nuanced profiles that aren’t even acknowledged by the field (or well known), let alone systematically studied. This lack of recognition has real consequences—not just in research but in clinical practice—where overgeneralizations and stigmas create significant barriers for individuals trying to get an accurate diagnosis. Exploring these nuances often comes at a steep cost, both financially and emotionally. Speaking from experience, psychologists frequently attempt to “correct” the disparities they perceive in me, projecting something more familiar instead. I tend to short-circuit their frameworks.

For a field that prides itself on acceptance, inclusion, and affirmation-driven approaches to the challenges or identities people possess, it becomes critically challenging to understand how people like me are so heavily stigmatized to the point that we must be evil or harmful—when this isn't intrinsic to the condition but a reflection of the research's focus (criminals).

While I don't personally care about this stigma stacked against me, from an intellectual perspective—and as someone who has constantly tried to understand the intricacies of certain emotions and the people that have them—it is almost disappointing to see the obvious hypocrisy toward certain groups in spite of the supportive narrative that drives the field.

And if this seems farfetched or driven purely by my personal experience, I would challenge you to do the following:

• Look at any book on the subject of psychopathy.
• Look at any YouTube video where a psychologist or "expert" in the field discusses it.
• Look at experts in the field that speak on TV shows or podcasts.
• Even look at many of the articles on Psychology Today that reach a mainstream audience and what they say about psychopathy.

Now, consider the concept of the "dark empath." This term originated from a 2020 study titled "The Dark Empath: Characterising Dark Traits in the Presence of Empathy," which identified individuals with higher levels of empathy alongside dark personality traits like narcissism, psychopathy, and Machiavellianism. The study involved 991 participants and focused on identifying patterns rather than creating a definitive personality type. However, after its publication, the term quickly gained traction in pop psychology and media, with articles, videos, and books often treating the findings as conclusive rather than preliminary. Books such as Dark Empath: The Intriguing Psychology of the Most Dangerous Personality Type sensationalized the term, presenting it as definitive while glossing over the complexities and limitations of the original research. This is a clear example of how quickly psychology can

turn nuanced findings into lucrative yet stigmatizing narratives.

Now I'm not saying there isn’t research being done that challenges these oversimplified views, because there is. Research exists showing that high-functioning psychopaths like myself are not the devil and that we can live successful, moral lives. But the larger issue is that these findings are not embraced by the clinical field, and perspectives are slow to adapt. This is a real issue.

I have a very healthy relationship with my wife, my children, my grandchildren, my parents, my siblings, my colleagues, and my neighbors. I do not emotionally or psychologically abuse them. It is true that I don’t have an emotional trigger stopping me from lying, being hurtful, or manipulating someone to get my way. But by working hard to stay cognizant of who I want to be and the morality I wish to embrace, I probably fail at the same rate as normal people do—which is to say, none of us are perfect.

The entire point of this is to highlight real issues that I think exist in psychology and to also offer people a perspective on a subset group that most people would instinctively run from, for no good reason. This highlights, I think, the importance of inclusion and acceptance. If you cannot help but be triggered or worried about what I am, how can you honestly critique others for their views on other marginalized groups of people?

Back to my original claim about my risk being higher in writing this than any race or gender variation, I'd ask you to consider that if I asked ANY psychologist whether I should come out publicly about my diagnosis, they would, regardless of circumstance or context, tell me absolutely not. Period. Because it would destroy my life without question.

Now, I'm not saying trans people or others in marginalized groups don’t face significant risk. They do—LGBTQ+ individuals, people of color, and others face systemic barriers and dangers. What I’m expressing is that for people like me, there are no community support systems, advocacy movements, or anti-discrimination laws to mitigate the fallout from disclosure. And worse, the stigma against us is actively reinforced across nearly all societal contexts.

Lastly, while I don’t think Elon Musk or Donald Trump are psychopaths, even if they were, I wouldn’t excuse their behavior, comments, or lack of moral engagement. I don’t place myself in a category with them—particularly Trump. There’s a reason I vote liberal, even if I don’t have the emotional faculty to "feel" my beliefs. I bring this up because it curiously supports the idea of stigma I've spoken about. When people are morally reprehensible, we often assume they are psychopaths - but this often isn't true. And pre-empting that connection, I want to make it clear that I am not defending psychopaths that do fit the stereotypes, but rather highlighting how far we have to go in our drive towards an inclusive and accepting society.