Changeling: The Ongoing Journey of an Aspie: Patterns

I've been an autistic feminist since birth. Sounds a bit hyperbolic, doesn't it? After all, one can't make decisions about their philosophical ideologies as an infant, and you'd be right to be skeptical of anything said by anyone who really believed they had. No, what I mean is that I was part of a feminist household. My mother is a feminist, and she raised me with the ethics and philosophies of feminism. Long before I knew what philosophy was, or that feminism had a political presence, I believed that everyone is, and should be perceived as, equal, despite any differences, real or imagined. Today, I proudly state myself to be a feminist.

Likewise, while I didn't know growing up that I am autistic, I was already expressing myself as an autistic person. I tended to be tomboyish, not in a sports way, but in a climbing trees and collecting rocks kind of way. I generally disliked wearing skirts and dresses, preferring comfortable pants and overalls which had pockets to put random weird shit into that I found on the ground. I was fascinated by science, especially astronomy. I had numerous special interests. I had food sensitivities that sometimes resulted in dramatic scenes (I recall an incident with a macaroni and bean salad). I had a lisp, which I viciously corrected on my own. I became so stressed in middle school, that I got ulcers, and generally suffered from other stomach issues. I was rather solitary. I didn't have a lot of friends. And I had the distinct sense that I was different. The list goes on. But I had no idea that some of the things I experienced could turn out to be a link between autism and feminism.