The Queer Community Has Made It Cool to Identify as Autistic

& I Don't Buy It.

About a year ago, I visited my ex’s social media page to block her, when I noticed that she had publicly announced her new autism diagnosis to all of her followers.

Finally, her queer and nonbinary identities were rounded out by an invisible disability that could potentially explain and excuse any future horrendous behavior. 

When I saw this post, I was deeply vexed. I didn’t care which quack she had paid to tell her she’s autistic. As far as I am concerned, she is not. I will dive into some of our intimate history together, and share exactly why I feel the way I do. 

But before I get into that, I want to say that my ex’s rebranding of herself as “autistic” is not unique to her. Within the past few years, it’s become increasingly popular for people—especially women who identify within the queer, trans, and nonbinary labels—to identify with having mental illnesses. 

There are lots of reasons for this, but in my opinion one of the strongest purposes for touting mental health diagnoses is to gain oppression points as a “disabled” person. 

Disabilities are hot on the block right now, and it’s even sexier if you can claim yours is invisible and all in your head. 

This way, when you hurt someone’s feelings, lack social skills, or simply refuse to do your dishes, nobody can hold you accountable without being called an “ableist”. 

You get the special considerations of being disabled, without all the hard stuff.

It’s no wonder why, nobody wants to claim the gruesome, stigmatized stuff like paranoid schizophrenia (the one my brother died from) or textbook narcissism. 

And of course you can’t really get away with claiming the mental disorders people are born with that are visible, such as Down Syndrome. 

So of course, folks are donning the trendy conditions—like Bipolar Disorder, Borderline, Depression, Anxiety, general “Neurodivergence” and of course, the special snowflakeism of Autism. 

What is it about autism that has become so attractive? From what I’m seeing, it’s almost like the modern-day, scientifically-backed version of being an Indigo Child. 

I’m not hating. When I was 7 years old, my Mother took me to a black psychologist to be assessed and receive an IQ test, and that woman told my Mother I’m an Indigo Child.

This was a helpful framework in deciding how best to nurture my natural abilities through education. My adult woo-woo self is here for the concept of Indigo Children, just as I am for astrology and tarot.

But when I compare Indigo Children to Autism, it’s more about the cultural relevance of being viewed as special. 

Autistic children are known to be hyper-intelligent and gifted…yet deeply challenged in social situations, awkward, and overall a bit strange. 

Most importantly, autism exists on a spectrum which has broadened so much within the past decade, that the doctor who initiated that change has long since apologized. 

Pretty much anyone can fit under the Autism umbrella if they perceive themselves that way, and especially if they actively seek out a diagnosis whilst framing their behavior as autistic.

For the type of person who wants to be different, who is yearning for a reason to explain their “out of placeness”, or who is simply wanting another oppression point under their belt—autism is both a romantic and accessible option. 

This is especially true for those who identify as queer, trans, or nonbinary. In fact, autistic people often carry certain characteristics that are misdiagnosed as gender dysphoria—which has its own extremely vague and broad medical definition.

They bed well together. 

There is a difference between being emotionally stunted and having a serious mental disorder, and our culture is blurring the lines too much.

Now, I’m not invalidating the existence of Autism. There truly are autistic people, and their lives, realities, and challenges should be respected.

I take mental health very seriously. My brother took his own life after suffering from a very advanced-stage mental illness, and his death broke my heart. Truth be told, everyone in my immediate family is mentally unstable in their own way.

However, I think very critically about mental health diagnoses, especially at the rate they are being haphazardly doled out these days. Ultimately, I believe that while people can be born with mental disorders or certain genetic predispositions to them, nobody is born “mentally ill”. 

Mental illnesses are primarily developed through trauma, and they can be healed with trauma therapy and other lifestyle changes. Therefore, mental illnesses should be treated as sickness born from the conditions of life—not as identities to take root in. 

Now, back to my ex…

I don’t believe that my ex is autistic. 

Although we were not together for long, we connected very deeply and intimately. 

Throughout our time together, she never displayed any signs of neurodivergence. In fact, the possibility of her having a mental disorder never once crossed my mind. 

There was nothing cognitively or socially unique about her, aside from her personality traits, which, in my loving admiration, I interpreted as brilliant, worldly, sociable, and articulate. She was a very successful Artist, and the breadwinner in our relationship. 

The only cognitive dysfunction she ever displayed was when she was angry, sad, or triggered—or what she would call “activated”.