Autism: Vanilla Scented Lipgloss Edition
Image Source, Pinterest
Neatness and the colour pink are instilled into young girls as soon as we’re born. We’re taught to be polite and, often, we oblige. Autistic traits become buried under years of patriarchal-driven camouflage. Vanilla scented lip gloss and good manners signify that all is well. You’re just a girl until you get lost in the small town you’ve lived in all your life, can’t count your change, hate the feeling of wool on your skin, have to separate all of your foods on the plate, the list goes on. But that vanilla scented lip gloss, it confuses everyone. You might get bullied by the other kids at school for this “oddness”, but to adults you’re simply just quirky, unique, a strange “delight”. Your little outbursts bemuse and infuriate your schoolteachers because, in so many other aspects, you seem just like the other girls in class. You doodle flowers in your notebook, you giggle with your friends, your glitter gel pens spill out across your desk. Femininity acts as a barrier to the diagnosis and general understanding you so desperately need to live comfortably in childhood and into womanhood.
You’re 19 now, you’ve just been diagnosed. You struggled alone for so long because no one could see past your shiny exterior. You’re autistic. You need to embrace this, accept this, learn and grow alongside this. You tell your GP that you’re autistic now – not now, always have been. They look you up and down: “I have to say, you definitely don’t look autistic to me”. Spoken like it’s a compliment, or maybe an accusation? This becomes a familiar echo that rings in your ears whenever you utter that word. It becomes a word that stirs up complex emotions. Do you accept their response or fight it? Your new MAC lipstick and glitter painted nails scream against the stereotypes that have been drilled into the DSM, the general public, even yourself. You’re forced to explain your existence, time and time again. You sit and question yourself, your femininity. You feel like a walking contradiction. Autism is not an accessory; it has no aesthetic. Your vanilla scented lip gloss is an extension of self and your “self” just happens to be autistic, right? So, you embrace both. You laugh at their confusion knowing that contradictions are everywhere and that contradictions are what make life so bloody interesting. Femininity should not create walls in which autistic girls feel trapped, because autism and vanilla scented lip gloss make quite the wonderful pair.
by Kate Matthews
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