Autistic, Trans, and Revolutionary: My Transition as Reclamation
In today’s world, protest music has largely disappeared from the mainstream, its powerful messages diluted or lost in an industry driven by streaming platforms like Spotify and YouTube. Unlike the protest music of the past, such as the bold, uncompromising works of Gil Scott-Heron, contemporary artists face a landscape where music has become a service—easily consumed, quickly forgotten, and often undervalued. Artists now struggle to make a living, earning only fractions of a penny per stream, whilst political messages are drowned out by algorithms designed to push what is most profitable, not what is most meaningful.
Back in the 1960s and '70s, artists like Scott-Heron, Nina Simone, and Marvin Gaye captured the revolutionary energy of their time, critiquing war, systemic racism, and capitalist exploitation, and they reached mainstream audiences whilst doing so. Their protest music served as a rallying cry, pushing back against systems of oppression in ways that resonated deeply with society. Today, even though social and political unrest remains prevalent, music with the same sharp, revolutionary edge rarely gains the same traction.
Platforms like Spotify and YouTube have commodified music, turning it into a passive experience, while radical political content is increasingly pushed to the margins. Even when it does emerge, it is often co-opted by corporations that adopt social justice language to sell products, further neutralizing its impact. The absence of outspoken, mainstream voices like Scott-Heron’s reflects this shift, as the system absorbs and commodifies even our most rebellious expressions.
In response to this, we need a new revolution—one that pushes back against the commodification of art, identities, and struggles. And as always, the first revolution begins in the mind.
My First Chaser on Instagram
In a world dominated by images and superficial impressions, the pressure to put yourself on display can be relentless, especially as a trans woman. Recently, I received my first private message from a “chaser” on Instagram—a man creepily wondering why I don’t post more images of myself, of my body. Despite the fact that my journey is documented in writing, not photos, there’s this constant push to commodify my experience, to turn my body into something for others to consume.
Gil Scott-Heron’s The Revolution Will Not Be Televised resonates deeply with me because it feels like a cry against this very commodification—against the gaze of the “chasers” who see only my body, never my mind or my soul. They don’t understand that my physical transition is not the main event. For me, it’s a byproduct, something secondary to the profound mental revolution I’m undergoing, aided by the magick of HRT. My body may be changing, but what’s really transforming is my inner world, my understanding of who I am and how I exist within this society.
Society, though, seems fixated on the physical. People mock tall women, like the incredibly talented athletes in the WNBA, claiming that they lack femininity simply because they don’t fit the narrow, limiting beauty standards—because they’re taller than 5'4" or don’t wear a size 6. At my height, I could play Off Guard, but where does that leave me in the fashion world? There’s no “size 22/24 Extra Extra Tall,” and so images of me feel almost meaningless in a world that refuses to acknowledge my form as valid.
But that’s exactly the point of a transition—it’s called that for a reason. Every moment is different from the last, and who knows what my body will look like a year from now. The truth is, I don’t really care. That’s not what my transition is about. It’s about the revolution in my mind, my identity, and my sense of self.
Yet, the creep who slid into my DMs insisted that my validity as a trans woman was somehow tied to my willingness to show myself online—to put my body on display for his satisfaction. That’s where the pushback begins. The revolution will not be played out on Instagram, not in images, not in performative acts of validation for others. The revolution begins in the mind. It is real, it is live, and it must be lived fully—not consumed.
In moments like the ones shown above—working with students in my comfortable, bespoke “Fairy Green” tunic, I’m reminded that this is not the image that “chasers” are lusting after. My tunic is not made for them. It’s for me. My comfort is hard-earned, partly won by greyrocking these perverts who try to objectify my body. And though I shouldn’t have to, it’s a form of self-protection in a world that demands too much visibility from trans women.
This leads us to today’s poem…
The Revolution Will Not Be on Instagram
The first revolution begins in your mind
It will not be bought, sold, or branded
You will not be able to log in, tune out, and buy in
You will not be able to download your humanity through an app
You will not be able to transition in 5 easy steps
Or access care only if you can afford to be seen
Because the revolution will not be marketed
The revolution will not be brought to you by the diversity panel
Or certified in a TED Talk
The revolution will not have a corporate sponsor,
Or be funded by venture capitalists looking to commodify your identity
The revolution will not offer ‘safe space’ merchandise for $29.99
The revolution will not turn your autism into a marketing gimmick
And sell your diagnosis back to you as a productivity tool
You will not be streamlined, polished, or packaged for LinkedIn
You will not be a ‘success story’ of neurodiversity
Or a poster child of capitalist inclusivity
The revolution will not turn your trans body into an investment opportunity
Or treat your healthcare as a subscription model
There will be no workshops teaching resilience while your humanity is denied
No policies on 'sensitivity' as your autonomy is stripped away
Because the revolution will not be monetized
The revolution will not be in the workplace wellness programme
It will not be a downloadable service
The revolution will not be sold as self-care
While corporations commodify your pain
The revolution will not be found in a brand’s Pride merchandise
The revolution will not teach you how to mask for survival
The revolution will not set a profit target on your life
It will not sell you visibility while denying you dignity
The revolution will not be marketed
The revolution will be real
It begins in your mind
And it will be lived,
The revolution will be yours.
Final thoughts …
As an autistic trans woman, my transition feels fundamentally different from that of someone who is not autistic. Many describe the autistic sense of justice as “black and white thinking,” but to me, it’s much deeper—a pursuit of balance, fairness, and the restoration of proper order. My transition isn’t simply about achieving physical changes or social recognition. It’s about rectifying an injustice, an alignment of self that feels long overdue. It is a return to authenticity, a deeply personal revolution rooted in justice.
For me, the physical changes brought on by HRT feel like reparations—hard-won and deeply earned through years of struggle, confusion, and survival in a world that didn't see me as I truly am. These changes are not just a matter of appearance; they are a testament to my persistence and my pursuit of what is right. Transitioning is, in itself, a radical act of restoring order to a body and a life that has been at odds with itself for so long. It is not just about becoming something new, but reclaiming what should have always been there.
This is the revolution that begins in your mind—the inner fight for justice, for harmony. In the theatre of my mind, this is where the real transformation happens, far beyond what images or public performances could ever convey. The visible changes to my body are only one small part of a much larger, much deeper process. Images, like those demanded by “chasers,” can never do justice to the revolution happening within me.
My transition is not for public consumption. It is not to be marketed, packaged, or displayed. It is an internal revolution, one that transcends the superficial, restoring the balance and justice that my mind, my body, and my soul have long fought for.
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised!