I have struggled with interpersonal relationships for a long time and have always struggled to find a place for myself among others. My adolescence was spent feeling alienated. Many neurodiverse people will undoubtedly relate to this experience, and many queer people will, too. If you belong to both of these demographics, join the club! You are in good company. I am autistic and a genderfluid lesbian, and I experience these three identifiers as being closely intertwined.
It's not just me. Research on publications such as Autism: An International Journal of Research and Practice and Autism Research: Official Journal of the International Society for Autism Research, indicating a demonstrated correlation between autism and non-normative expressions of gender, sexual orientation, and identity. More anecdotally, almost all autistic people in my social circle have some sort of queer taste, so perhaps both groups tend to come together.
When I realized I liked women, I thought that was the answer to my problems with relationships with other people. Men flirting with me always made me uncomfortable, but those days are over! But I still couldn't crack any of the codes that other people knew. Even when women made passes at me, I still felt out of my depth. Everyone had expectations and my partner looked at me like I had two heads when I didn't understand. People relied too much on sarcasm and body language. I wanted a field guide of sorts, imagining myself exploring a distant jungle full of girls eager to compare hand sizes.
It wasn't until I discovered I was autistic that I was able to contextualize how my brain works. I'm not insensitive, I just perceive things differently. Autistic people are often treated by peers, family, and society as if we are unable to form and maintain romantic or sexual relationships. Whether it means we lack agency, assume good judgment, or just don't want to. I have also been considered undesirable because of my identity as a genderfluid transgender and lesbian.
I first thought I might have autism when I was seventeen, after I had a friend who suspected I had autism. The closer I got to those friends, the harder it became to ignore the similarities in their worldviews and thought processes. It felt like I was talking to my reflection. What kept me from fully embracing that identity at the time was my lack of understanding of how differently autism can present for each autistic person. For example, I had a hard time recognizing the behaviors or stimuli that triggered me. I've known people with more obvious irritation, but that wasn't me.
I learned about masking as an adult. Masking refers to the practice of teaching autistic people to hide or mask their autistic characteristics to avoid bullying or discrimination. As I delved deeper into my brain, I was able to recall many instances where I failed to react or take certain actions for fear of looking strange. I bottled them all up to be respectful. It was draining.
I also had a similar experience with queerness. As an adult, I see no point in hiding my LGBTQ+ identity from others. People seem to know just by looking at me and judge me based on that, so why do I try to hide it? In my childhood it was a different story. Now I know I've been queer my whole life, but I didn't know gay people existed until I was a teenager. Once I sensed something was wrong, it took me longer to talk about it myself. I can't be gay because I don't look like “X” or act like “Y.” Like autism, queerness presents itself differently to everyone. It's just another spectrum.
I’m also non-binary. Non-binary makes sense to me. I have tried and failed many times to exist within the gender binary and felt like I was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Becoming a lesbian loosened the grip of social acceptance of me and broadened my understanding of myself. Uncovering my autism has done much more, but it is still a work in progress. Although I am no longer ashamed of my queer identity, I have become more hesitant to disclose my autism to others. But moving past those blocks can be very rewarding.
What helped me was to devise a kind of script to recite when talking about my autism to people close to me. This was especially helpful when it came to breaking away from the white cisgender boy stereotype and opening up to others who may not know exactly what autism looks like. I also tend to stumble over my words and get off track when I don't give myself a script to stick to. This strategy can also help if you have the same problem organizing your thoughts in real time.
I have compiled a list of commonly agreed upon symptoms of autism, past and present. All my special interests; My provocative actions; There are also self-assessment scores such as RAADS-R, CAT-Q, and Autism Spectrum Index. I also kept track of the results statistics for the assessment to help me know where I ranked among others who had taken the assessment. I list this information with the person I am speaking with, and at the end of the conversation I answer any questions they may have.
When I talk to older adults, I will include a bit about how the diagnostic criteria and language surrounding autism have changed since childhood. Some people may not like having their beliefs contradicted, but it can give you peace of mind knowing that you have provided all the information to the best of your ability. At that point, I try to accept that the person's reaction is ultimately out of my hands.
My wife has been a huge supporter of my autism journey. They were diagnosed around the time we started dating, and they were instrumental in my realization as our relationship developed. We have many things in common beyond autism, but I believe it's what allows us to connect on a deeper level. Not everyone has a friend or partner with autism, but having the perspective of an outsider knowledgeable about the topic can certainly help you better understand neurodivergence.
I have never seen myself more present than with my wife. Unfortunately, we don't live in the same brain, but we know what the other thinks because we have shared experiences as autistic queer people. My identity and neurotype don’t get in the way of them. They have made our relationship stronger than either of us has ever done before. My wife is attracted to me regardless of my gender, and she knows that applies to her as well. We can be mindful of each other's social battery and recognize when the other person is overstimulated. I don't feel the need to overexplain myself to them. If I hadn't been able to disclose all aspects of my identity, we wouldn't have the bond we have now.
Being in a relationship in which all parties are neurodivergent can be incredibly positive, but it's still important to build open communication with your partner and not assume they can read your mind. Even though my wife and I know each other very well, the key to keeping us close to each other is letting the other know what's going on in our heads. We are both autistic and both have ADHD, but these conditions present differently in each person. There have been a few instances where my wife and I were guessing what each other was thinking and ended up in miscommunication. These miscommunications were all minor things that can happen when living with new people, but they could have been avoided if there had been clear communication. We both have trouble expressing ourselves verbally at times, so it may be easier to communicate through text. If you can't communicate via text or writing, sticking to yes or no questions when your partner isn't speaking can be very helpful.
Some topics that are important to have simple, honest conversations about when one or more people in a relationship have autism include: negative sensory triggers, what the stimulus may look or sound like to the person, and in those situations. How to proceed, or both, are overstimulated. My wife has a lot of negative texture triggers as well as sound triggers. This is mainly a sound problem, but there are also problems that cause odor. To accommodate this, we excluded velvet from our home décor and furniture. We also made it a rule that they had to vacuum when we weren't home and that they had to close the bathroom door when drying their hair. For me, it alerts me if there is a sudden loud noise, such as when my wife uses the garbage disposal or uses a loud appliance. It is also understood between us that when they cook food with a strong smell, they can go back to the bedroom without getting upset. Stimulating your wife may include repeating clicks and sounds, playing with fidget toys, or singing to music using American Sign Language. For me, this could be tapping and clicking her fingers, hand and body movements, or playing with stimulating toys. When I'm at home, I also feel comfortable and centered when I cover my head and body with a blanket, and my wife respects this very much. Managing during periods of overstimulation usually looks like spending some quiet time in a dark room with the two of us together or separately. We pay particular attention to each other's boundaries and personal space when we are overstimulated or exhausted. Because we both know how stressful it can be to cross boundaries in a raw state.
It's been a few years since I first came out as queer, but I can confidently say that admitting my autism has been much harder. Of course, during my school years I was surrounded by queerphobia and queerphobia-related bullying, but the ableist rhetoric at school and the culture that produced it were all-encompassing. Many of my colleagues spread the rumor that I grew up queer, but I was also called an r-slur. Even by people I respected. I admitted I was queer after being accused of being too embarrassed, and I felt the same way when I realized I was autistic. There's no shame in being queer or autistic, but I hated feeling like other people were telling me who I was and ultimately concluding that they were right.
Finding a community of people who held me and got what I was going through was incredibly healing. Many of my close friends had similar experiences as children of being bullied or treated as different simply because they were queer and autistic. It made me realize that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me or them. If I tell the people I love that they don't need to be ashamed, why shouldn't I extend that grace to myself? The various coming out experiences I have had in my life have taught me who my true support system is. Thanks to them, I feel comfortable enough to assert all aspects of myself openly. I'm queer, I'm autistic, and I'm doing well. I want the same for you.