Behind the Screen
Virtual reality is a blessing and a curse. Madison, who lives in a rural area, feels like she’s a part of the queer community, “but only online. I have found groups on Tumblr and Facebook and in the blogging community that have made me feel connected to the community rather than as socially isolated as I am in person.”
In cases when the “real” world is unsafe, cyberspace can be a haven. “Talking to people online saved me,” said Anika. “It’s easier for me to express myself and make friends in writing.”
Yet we’re back to square-one when we meet face-to-face. “I had a woman break up with me because she didn’t think I was the same person in real life as I was online,” shared Fern, who “came across as much more self-confident online.”
Loneliness and Inexperience
“When I was younger it was hard,” said Anika of being both queer and on the autism spectrum. Besides “always falling for the wrong people”, Anika “didn’t have anyone to talk to” about her feelings. “I didn’t know how to connect with others at all,” she explained. “I didn’t really have any friends until I got older.”
Anika’s story of loneliness is common among people with autism spectrum disorders. On the autism spectrum, it’s hard enough to find friends… How the heck do you get a date? “I’m terrified of rejection,” admitted Madison. “Because I try to plan out the expected routes things might go, I get so wound up in how I could deal with it that I never end up giving it a chance of happening.” Samantha has similar feelings. “Most of the time I don’t know how to approach people for a date, or I worry I’ll bother them somehow,” she said.
Picking someone up not only requires recognizing flirtation in others and being aware of what signals you’re sending, but also the confidence to keep interacting after years of disappointment, combating the weight of past social failure. In some ways, I’ve got less practical knowledge than people half my age. “I haven’t been dating much,” said Anika. Same for Samantha, who went on her first-ever date at the age of twenty-one. “I’ve definitely been a late bloomer when it comes to dating,” she said. She’s currently disheartened that nothing has lasted longer than a month. “I want a long-term relationship, but I just haven’t been able to connect with any of the people I date,” she lamented. “Most of them seemed to just lose interest in me for some reason.”
Discrimination
When you are in a queer space, you don’t need to stop and tell that hot chick you are making out with that—gasp!— you like girls. But queer people on the spectrum face another “coming out” conundrum. Do we tell her we’re autistic, risking possible prejudice, or keep it a secret, even if she misreads our stilted body language as rude, awkward stupidity instead?
“It’s difficult to tell sometimes when to disclose that I have autism,” commented Samantha. “One person I dated happened to also be autistic, so we both mentioned that early on.” Fern wasn’t so lucky. “One woman I dated refused to believe I could be as clumsy as I appeared to be,” said Fern. “She thought I was faking it to get attention. Either that, or, ‘You’re disabled, and I don’t want to date someone who’s disabled.’”
It hurts when people reject us or exclude us just for who we are. Fern has witnessed an obscene amount of ableism in her local queer community. “The community must take a look at who they are excluding and how to change that,” she stated. She has “deaf friends who can’t attend events” without interpreters or captioning, “physically disabled friends who are excluded when a party, dance or event is held in a building with no elevators”, “people with diabetes or food intolerance who find they can’t eat the food that is served”, and friends on the autism spectrum “driven away from Pride by overly-loud music.”
However, Josie’s experience is proof that the community can work to welcome people of all abilities with positive results. “My local group is wonderful, and very mindful of the need to understand and combat ableism in order to make for a safer and more inclusive space,” said Josie. Her gathering informs visitors about elevator and bathroom accessibility, labels foods with allergens, “provides earplugs and quiet spaces at most parties”, and meets in “a scent-free building”. “Safer Spaces” officers attend events in case members get upset or over-stimulated. . “Overall, I’ve had a very positive and empowering experience with my local queer community when it comes to understanding my autism and my needs as a disabled queer,” she said.
Coping
Queer women with autism I spoke to found creative ways to work with their strengths in the queer social arena. Far from being passive victims, they learned to cope with everyday sources of social skill bewilderment, communication breakdown, and sensory overload to enjoy themselves in the community.
Unlike in-person queer events, which are usually not geared toward people on the autism spectrum, the internet eliminates body language and lessens sensory overload. Online dating allows Samantha to comfortably socially interact in her own way. “I’ve used online dating almost exclusively, mostly because I have difficulty making the first move or flirting,” she said.
Strategies to deal with sensory input are an important way to stay sane. “All noise sounds the same volume to me, so I cannot filter out one conversation when another is taking place,” said Camille, who knows smells “can make me sick to my stomach.” Avoidance is one tactic, but Camille has another means of regulating her senses. “I have to put one hand over one of my ears to focus,” she said, and for the smells, “I tend not to breathe through my nose anyway.”
Josie found herself inventing alternatives to spectrum-unfriendly situations. “My friends and I find Pride events to be inaccessible, and hostile to queer folk who are not white, cis, masculine, able-bodied and neurotypical,” she told me, “so we have decided to do our own Pride activities. Among them is an all-bodies swim at an accessible swimming pool.”
Having a supportive friend or friend-group can help us to comfortably participate in traditional activities. “I like going to clubs,” said Anika. “But I always make sure to have a plan B and that the people that I’m with, or at least some of them, know about my issues and that I might just leave if it gets too much.”
Connecting
Around 1 in 20 people identify as LGBTQ, and at least 1% of the planet has an autism spectrum disorder. I’m no statistician, but that means millions people with ASD are queer or gender-nonconforming! One day, you’ll meet an adorable queer person who just so happens to have autism. What will you do?
When flirting with someone on the autism spectrum, leave out the nuanced body cues. Tell us your thoughts or feelings as literally as possible. “Don’t be afraid to ask if we are interested directly,” Madison advised. “We might not be able to tell from your usual rounds that you are, and we don’t always present as interested the way other people do.”
Because we may not understand all the inflections of body language, we’re easy targets for being “used” by faux friends and undedicated dates. Spell out unspoken rules and be up front about your intentions. “In my experience, being open and honest to people gets you a long way,” elucidated Anika. “The relationships I have been in have been with people who are honest from the start about how they feel.”
If we seem bizarre, remember that we don’t speak fluent body language but that most of us desperately want to connect. Challenge yourself to push past prejudice and get to know us first before judging. “Try to be considerate towards other people and the fact that they might not function exactly like you,” recommended Anika.
Celebrating Difference
“I think neurotypical people in general need to stop seeing autism as something that needs to be ‘cured’,” emphasized Samantha. “It’s not a disease, just different brain wiring.” It’s true that our neurology makes the social world tougher. But our differently-wired minds are also behind our extreme honesty, our passion and knowledge about things we care about, our sensitivity to our environments, our innovation and openness to alternatives, and our loyalty to the people who love and accept us.
The autism acceptance movement is about celebrating who we are, and respecting our differences instead of shaming ourselves. Difference isn’t a deficit. “I think my autism has made me less concerned with fitting in,” said Kelsie. “I don’t feel any urge to be like others – in fact, the thought kind of scares me. So that makes it easier to admit I’m different in another way as well.”
Who understands choosing pride over shame more than us, the members of the queer community? “In my experience, people who somehow identify outside of the norm are often more open and appreciating of people being different,” stressed Anika. “I feel more accepted in these places and I don’t have to work as hard to appear ‘normal’. It gives me more room to breathe and makes me less stressed about being around people. I don’t feel that is harder in the LGBTQ community than anywhere else. If anything, it is easier.”
Feature image by Rengin Tumer.
