Autistic and Trans: How Both Identities Helped Me Become Myself

In 2025, both transgender and autism have become hot topics around the world. You've got politicians trying to claim that we are an epidemic caused by vaccinations. You've also got people in power attempting to erase transgender identities from existence. It's been scary for a lot of us, yet I want to stand strong.

My name is Lauren. I'm 31 years old, and I'm also an autistic transgender woman. I'm writing this blog post to share my experiences with both identities, how they impacted me as a child, and how they shaped who I am today.

As a young toddler, I didn't talk much. I usually preferred to keep to myself. I was fixated on toy cars and Coca-Cola merchandise, and almost never responded to my name. My parents didn't initially see anything as unusual about me. They just accepted my quirks, such as my literal thinking, as something that just made me me.

It was a different story with my teachers. They'd noticed my lack of interaction with my classmates. The meltdowns I experienced whenever they tried to reward me with stickers. I was sent to speech and language therapy, though it was only when I was 7 when someone suggested to my mum that I may be autistic.

At that same time, I felt a large disconnect between myself and my male classmates. If you were a boy, you were expected to be sporty, louder, into action figures. This made no sense to me back then. I hated most typical male-dominated interests. I'd look at the girls and wish I was one of them. I wanted to look like a girl, I wanted to dress like a girl, I wanted to be a girl.

Sadly, due to lack of trans awareness in the late 90s, I spent much of my childhood convincing myself I just had to suck it up and be the boy I apparently had to be. Boys couldn't become girls.

I was diagnosed as autistic at age 10. However, it wasn't until age 26 when I finally allowed myself to accept I was a woman. Whilst being neurodivergent and transgender may seem like two completely different topics at first glance, I believe that being autistic was something in the long run that also helped me to accept I was transgender.

When I first learnt about the LGBT+ community at age 11, I was terrified. I had experienced attraction to multiple genders by then, but I tried to suppress it, much like I tried to suppress my desire to be a girl. That was wrong. The people around me said so, and I did not want more reason to be shunned by others.

But like anything that is suppressed, you can't contain it forever. Autistic people in general are known to question societal norms that do not make logical sense, and I was no different. Approaching my teens and early adulthood where everyone was expected to “grow up”, I never allowed myself to fall into my mindset. I embraced my special interests (which had been cartoons for many years), I didn't follow trends just to be popular.

So how does this relate to being trans? Well, whatever gender you're assigned at birth, people place expectations on you. It didn’t make sense that I was supposed to like football. I didn't understand why I had to fall into society's expectations of masculinity.

Then one day I started hearing about trans people in the news. This was in my late teens. It was a mind opener. People were doing the thing I wished I could do - be the gender they truly were. I wish my reaction was positive, but I wasn't ready. Surely nobody could understand what it was like to be a gender they weren't born as. I wasn't ready to explore the possibility of being trans myself. I was a man.

Then in my early 20s, I discovered Tumblr. I created a support blog for autistic people, and through that I got to know a lot of people, many of whom were trans. It was these direct communications with other trans folk that I learnt so much. So much that I related to. It reminded me of why I so badly wanted to be a girl. I finally began to consider the possibility I was trans. The only thing holding me back was fear. Fear of how my family would react. How society would react. How my friends would react. But it didn't make sense. Why should people care what gender I was? I'd still be the same person I always was, just happier.

My egg cracked after meeting an autistic non-binary person who became (and still is) my partner. They gave me a space to feel safe exploring my identity. It was freeing. I'll never forget the moment I came out to them as a woman, and they told me they already knew. The coming out process was a bumpy road, my friends and colleagues have all accepted me, though most of my family remain in denial.

Being both autistic and trans, I’ve had people use both identities to invalidate the other. According to some people, I’m autistic, and therefore I can’t be transgender as I cannot think for myself. To others, I cannot be autistic as my transgender identity is “proof” that I’m faking it for attention (attention from whom, however, is never made clear). I’ve been told that my autism made me more susceptible to being brainwashed into the trans “cult”. I’ve been told that I’m using my autism to brainwash other autistic folk into becoming transgender. It is a never-ending cycle of bizarre accusations.

However, I believe both my identities compliment each other. I may not be trans because I’m autistic, but I certainly believe being autistic has helped me embrace my trans identity more easily. If I didn’t question the social rules people are expected to abide by, would I have even allowed myself to question my identity? The answer, we may never truly know. 

If given the choice, would I ever choose to live a life cisgender or neurotypical? Honestly, no. Whilst I cannot deny both have given me plenty of trials and challenges throughout my life, they’re what make me me, and I cannot imagine who I’d be without them. Just because there are people out there in the world who may not understand, it does not make me the problem, and I don’t want anyone else who relates to feel like they are the problem either. Online, I’m open about being both autistic and trans, and I’m open about it in real life too. If my presence helps someone else feel a little less alone and perhaps helps them to feel seen, it’s all worth it.

So if you’re reading this and you relate in any way, keep being you. You’re not alone. You matter, and we will get through this.