Beyond the Series: The Ongoing Reflections of an Autistic Trans Woman in Harmony with Her Identity

Reflections on gender, neurodivergence, and the quiet unfolding of self—one gesture, one article, one becoming at a time.

May 02, 2024

A living archive of reflection from an autistic trans woman tracing their first year of transition—and beyond. Not a roadmap, but a symphony-in-progress. These are notes from a life unfolding, in language finally becoming available.

Introduction

It’s been a year since I first created this page—then, in the haze and urgency of early transition, writing was how I breathed. My gestalt processing, hyper-empathy, and difficulties with functional language made verbal communication unreliable. But writing? Writing gave shape to the storm. Articles would arrive in a rush—paragraphs forming faster than I could type—demanding to be captured before they dissolved. What began as a few scattered reflections quickly became a flood.

I never set out to write a series. It simply happened. One article led to the next, and before long, I was deep in conversation with myself—past, present, and emerging. This page was a way to collect those threads. And although the pace of writing has shifted, the reflections have continued. The series didn’t end; it evolved.

Since then, the words have come more slowly, but also more clearly. The panic-drenched urgency of those early weeks has softened into something more spacious, more intentional. I still write as a form of processing, but now the voice I hear is less frantic and more rooted. HRT hasn’t just brought physiological change—it’s brought emotional access, narrative clarity, and a deepening sense of embodiment. What once felt like survival now feels like discovery.

This collection is no longer just about the first months of transition. It has become a living archive of reflection—spanning gender, autism, language, ancestry, intimacy, resistance, and joy. Each piece is a note in the larger symphony of becoming, and I expect that symphony will continue to unfold, in unexpected keys and rhythms, for years to come.

As always, my story is just one among many. I write not to define a trans experience, but to contribute my voice to a polyphonic chorus—messy, beautiful, unfinished. I am proud to be part of a community where no two journeys look alike, and where every voice matters.

So, whether you’re new to my writing or have followed it from the beginning, welcome. The articles below are listed in the order they were written. They’re not steps on a path or chapters in a book—they're moments. Scenes. Gestalts. Pieces of a life, captured in language, and shared in the hope that someone else might see a little of themselves reflected too.

Thank you for reading, sharing, and supporting The AutSide.

A Note on Voice and Perspective

What I’ve written, I’ve written from the inside. These pieces are not declarations, but reflections—attempts to render something honest and immediate from within the lived texture of my life. Language—especially English—has never been native to me. I didn’t acquire it in the usual way as younglings do, and it still doesn’t arrive as instinct. But I’ve done my best to shape each sentence with care, trusting that meaning doesn’t always live in precision, but sometimes in presence.

This collection of articles, and the broader journey it reflects, is one thread among many in the vast and varied fabric of trans experience. My understanding of femininity is shaped through a specific, intersecting lens: as an autistic, gestalt-processing, hyper-empathetic, alexithymic, transfeminine person. My story bends through those curves. It resonates in ways that will feel familiar to some and utterly foreign to others. That’s not a flaw in the story—that’s the shape of the world we live in.

I don’t share these reflections to prescribe anything. I’m not offering a template or a model for how to be trans, autistic, queer, or anything else. I’m offering a voice. One voice in a much larger chorus. And my hope is that this voice contributes—softly but distinctly—to the symphony we are all creating together. Not to harmonise by becoming the same, but to honour the differences that make harmony possible.

What I’ve found in the trans community so far has been breathtaking in its variety. There is no one way to be a woman. No one path to transition. No single rhythm to becoming. We are a constellation—each star holding its own pattern, its own history, its own gravity. That diversity isn’t something to overcome. It’s what gives us strength. It’s what makes us beautiful.

As I continue to step more fully into my life as an autistic trans woman—words that once felt aspirational and now feel simply true—I do so with gratitude. Gratitude for the companions I’ve found, for the stories I’ve learned from, for the spaces where difference is met with welcome instead of scrutiny. I want to keep listening. I want to keep learning. I want to keep sharing.

And if what I’ve shared here resonates with you, I’m honoured. If it doesn’t, I’m still honoured to be one voice among many. We don’t need to mirror each other to belong to the same movement. We just need to make room. For each other. For ourselves. For all the ways we are still unfolding.

There is no one right way to be trans.
There is no one right way to be human.
But there is power in making space for the truth of each journey.

And if there’s anything I’ve learned through writing all of this—it’s that our stories don’t compete.
They harmonise.

The story’s links

The articles are listed in the order in which they were written. Start at the top and read down to follow my journey.

From Coming Out through the First Year of HRT

The Second Year of HRT & Beyond

… and the “series” doesn’t really conclude there.

Next Steps …

As I continue to navigate the unfolding landscape of my identity, I’m reminded again and again that coming out isn’t a single moment. It’s a process—layered, recursive, and at times uneven. These past months have been full of visibility, expression, and surprise. Yes, I really did come out—so visibly, so publicly. It still catches me off guard sometimes, in the best way.

But this is not an ending. If anything, it’s the close of a prelude—the first movement in what I now understand to be a lifelong symphony of becoming. These essays and reflections trace the contours of early discovery, but I can already sense new motifs emerging: deeper notes of integration, subtler shifts in embodiment, and a broader field of possibility. Claiming my identity as an autistic trans woman has brought a kind of inner harmony I never expected to feel—and I also know it’s only the beginning of what I will come to understand.

So yes, there will be more. More articles, more insights, more invitations to reflect aloud. I don’t know yet what shape they’ll take—whether they’ll chart the practical realities of transition, the changing dynamics of relationship and community, or the interior shifts that are harder to name but no less real. What I do know is that they’ll emerge when they’re ready. I’ve stopped trying to plan them. The writing knows when to arrive.

What I continue to learn is that this journey resists linearity. There’s no checklist, no fixed arc. It unfolds sideways, in spirals, in echoes. I want to stay open to that. To trust that what I’m meant to learn will come, and that when it does, I’ll be able to give it voice—not perfectly, but faithfully.

And in sharing these pieces—not as prescriptions, but as offerings—I hope to contribute to a wider, richer conversation about autistic and transgender lives. Too often, our stories are simplified, flattened, instrumentalised. But our realities are complex, luminous, contradictory. I want to add my voice to those pushing back against the single story. I want to celebrate our plurality—our messy, brilliant, becoming-selves.

Of course, my story is just one thread. There are so many others, each vital. What I share here is not meant to represent anyone but myself. I hold deep respect for my trans siblings whose journeys look nothing like mine, and for those still finding the language to begin. We don’t need to match each other to belong to each other.

And so, the story continues. “My coming out story”—what a phrase. It still makes me smile when I say it out loud. There’s something powerful in claiming it, not as a conclusion, but as an opening. As invitation. As testimony to the fact that identity is not a destination, but a relationship—one that deepens over time, shaped by story, community, and care.

As I move forward in my life as an autistic trans woman, I do so with a quieter confidence. With curiosity. With gratitude. And with a profound sense of reverence for all of us who are still unfolding.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for meeting me here.

The AutSide