Autism and Womanhood — A Poem
The other women greet each other with soft, saccharine voices
My body feels suffocated by expected fashion choices
Conversation flows, but I’m pushed to the edges — invisible.
I’ve never felt so alien and peripheral.
Attempt to contribute, but guess I’ve missed my shot
Everyone else just knows what to say and when to not
Long silences and side-eye glances keep me in my place
Others resume their coded communication without regard or grace.
Tears well up, but I force them down
I really thought that, finally, I would feel less like a clown
Always feel so removed from typical feminine social life
Even put on my best act, but (still!) there’s strife.
I sprint back to my refuge — my home
I really, really need to be alone.
Tear off my clothes and crash onto my bed
I can be myself now; I no longer have to pretend.
But I finally found a few others who get it
No need to force eye contact and regret it
That intrusive, piercing sensation once consumed my energies,
But now I can focus on my profound feelings and reveries.
No need to worry about connotation or intonation
My heart swells with joy in our deep conversations
Infodumping, stimming, and echolalia galore;
I don’t know why I ever felt the need to mask before.
