When I was diagnosed with autism a decade ago, the only person in my friend circle who was surprised was me. One of my best friends reacted by saying something like, "What, this is news to you?"

I guess it was the whole social norms thing, which I've never been good at recognizing, caring about, or practicing.

For my 10th birthday, I asked my parents for red potted flowers as a gift. Their reaction was ... less than accepting. I didn't get the flowers, I got a series of (mostly kind) lectures about appropriate gender roles in children, about what kinds of toys I should be asking for.

I never understood my parents' concerns about norms, because I had a very hard time seeing them in the first place –because of my autism, in retrospect.

But throughout my life, my autism often proved as much of a positive as a negative. It's just part of who I am. It's impacted how I express my queerness, how I've done activism, who I date, who I form relationships with, where I work, and what sorts of professional skill sets suit me best.

I was a terrific intelligence analyst at one time, not despite my autism but because of my autism.

It's not a disability to me. It's just a difference, albeit a difference that can sometimes produce tension among people who don't care for diversity.

And isn't that some sort of a key? People who want trans folks to go away or stay closeted don't like difference. They want everyone to follow their own preferred norms, which really are arbitrary.

So they pathologize trans people just like they pathologist autistic people, and of course if they suspect a connection, they double down.