Gender in the Key of Autism

when I was six,

I knew I was a girl

the way I knew I was meant to sit crosslegged -

because they split the class down the middle

and I went on the left

when I was twelve,

I knew I was a girl

the way I knew it was weird that all my friends weren’t -

because I spent so much time trying not to stare at the wrong people

and thinking “fuck, I’m so gay”

I was fourteen before I realised

I only thought I was a girl

the way I’d thought I was straight -

sure, people kept telling me what a “lovely young woman” I was

but I’ve never been that good

at picking up on social cues

still gay though, sorry about that

and the weird pronouns

and the name change

and that flannel shirt I nicked off you, dad

though I do think it suits me

I was also fourteen when I realised

walking down a noisy corridor

is actually a lot easier for people who aren’t me

and I don’t just suck at it

also, most people don’t spend half their childhood wishing they were a cat

or at least still allowed to run around shirtless

so when I tell you to just call me “he”

or maybe “it”

or “they”, if those are too hard

it means “sometimes I feel more like some kind of entity than a person”

it means “certainly I feel far less like a girl than a human being”

it means “god, please stop noticing how all my carefully scripted greetings take the shape of a curtsey”

habits this old are hard to break

but I learned to be a girl the way I learned to be human –

imperfectly

frantically

learning my lines onstage

still shoving myself into a costume

a pair of shoes that chafed my heels

and a blonde wig

so

sorry I don’t like the pink wrapping paper

or the barbies your parents bought for my sixth birthday

because all they knew about me was the “miss megan roweth”

on the invite

but hey, I’ll take the nail polish

if you’re still offering?