In Plain Sight: A Fugitive’s Guide to Trans and Autistic Survival in 2024
November 6, 2024, Southern California.
I blink awake, my head still heavy with sleep, hoping maybe—just maybe—things feel a little less bleak than they did last night. I shuffle over to the kitchen, fumbling for coffee, and hear the faint drone of the TV from the other room. The news anchor is chirping on about “yesterday’s sweeping victory,” her smile stretched so wide it looks painful. I’m not quite ready to stomach the headlines, so I grab the remote, flipping the channel without a second thought.
But then—my heart stops.
There I am, my face filling the screen, plastered across “America’s Most Wanted.” Bold letters scream beneath the image: Suspect at Large: Public Presence While Transgender and Autistic. The absurdity of it rattles in my mind as I stand frozen, gripping the remote so tightly my knuckles turn white. It’s surreal, like some fever dream, but the host’s intense stare into the camera pulls me back to reality. He’s serious. Deadly serious.
I feel a chill creep down my spine as he leans forward, addressing the nation in somber tones. He warns that there are people “living among us,” people like me, posing some nebulous threat to public safety. His words come slowly, purposefully, as though trying to let the gravity of the “situation” settle into every living room across America.
This is it, I realise, America’s shiny new “safer” reality—where my existence is the top case, and simply living as myself is a national offense.
The Charges
The camera cuts to a grave-faced narrator who’s clearly perfected the art of sounding both terrified and outraged. “We urge citizens to exercise extreme caution,” he intones, as though narrating the approach of a once-in-a-lifetime storm. “The suspect is believed to be highly skilled in everyday tasks. Reports confirm they have been seen entering grocery stores, appearing to buy items as though they belong there. And, in one shocking incident, they were even observed selecting generic brands—an act many are calling an affront to decency itself.”
My picture flashes on screen again, alongside a list of “known behaviours” that could help the public identify this dangerous fugitive. “If you notice someone adjusting their pronoun pin in public,” he continues solemnly, “or see an individual who appears to be minding their own business, it is imperative that you do not engage. Simply call the hotline immediately. This person is highly dangerous—armed with the ability to exist unapologetically.”
The screen cuts to a grainy, black-and-white video: I’m calmly washing my hands in a grocery store restroom. The narrator gasps as if he’s witnessed a felony in real-time. “This footage was captured just last week, during what appears to be an illicit bathroom visit. Authorities have confirmed that the suspect, a known trans individual, entered and used the restroom with no attempt to hide. They even exited afterward, completely unrepentant.”
The host goes on to provide detailed instructions on what to do if someone “suspects” they’ve seen me. “If you believe you’ve spotted the fugitive,” he advises, “do not, under any circumstances, approach them directly. Instead, quickly pull out your phone and attempt to snap a discreet photo, preferably while hiding behind a nearby bin or large potted plant. Once you have evidence, call our toll-free hotline, and remember: the capture of this individual is critical to the safety of our community.”
The narrator’s tone grows ever more conspiratorial. “The suspect may attempt to blend in by behaving exactly like any other citizen,” he warns. “They may wear clothes appropriate for their gender, go about their day without disruption, or even display a calm demeanour. Remember: these are classic tactics used by individuals trying to conceal their trans identity while autistic. Do not be fooled by their air of normalcy.”
It’s both ludicrous and terrifying—a play-by-play of my most basic routines, twisted into acts of treason against society. And all for the crime of… living my life.
And now, a word from our sponsor …
The scene fades to black for a moment, and then, as if on cue, a sleek, corporate logo swirls onto the screen, followed by a deep, resonant voiceover: “Tonight’s episode of ‘America’s Most Wanted’ is proudly sponsored by Autism $peaks—working to keep communities safe by erasing misunderstandings, one identity at a time.”
As the ominous music swells, a faux-friendly narrator begins a corporate monologue with all the warmth of a smiling shark. “In our ongoing commitment to public safety, Autism $peaks is proud to sponsor this special edition of ‘America’s Most Wanted,’ dedicated to the rising issue of trans autistics who, against all odds, continue to move among us.” A montage begins to play, cutting between shots of calm suburban streets, the Autism $peaks logo, and a group of people meeting in a boardroom, apparently strategising the “hunt.”
“Our research has shown a statistically significant overlap of individuals identifying as both transgender and autistic, two groups that, when combined, represent a previously unforeseen threat to the cohesion of the communities we serve. This partnership with ‘America’s Most Wanted’ is just one way Autism $peaks is working to raise awareness and ensure that families, friends, and neighbours remain vigilant and safe,” the narrator continues, his voice practically dripping with self-satisfaction.
The screen switches to a mock “public service announcement” from Autism $peaks, showing a concerned parent clutching their child protectively. “It’s a well-known fact,” the narrator explains with an air of authority, “that transgender autistics can go unnoticed for years, even blending seamlessly into everyday life. With sponsorship from Autism $peaks, we are committed to unmasking these individuals and helping communities everywhere spot potential risks.”
A stately mission statement flashes on screen, rendered in elegant script: “Autism $peaks: For a Brighter, Safer Tomorrow.”
The narrator, now sounding almost paternal, shifts to what he calls a “critical” public message. “In the spirit of community wellness, Autism $peaks has funded resources for identifying transgender autistics wherever they may be. We encourage you to explore our educational pamphlets and training videos to learn the signs. See someone using alternative pronouns, displaying overstimulated behaviours, or, God forbid, living authentically? Don’t wait—report immediately. Remember, it’s for the safety of all.”
To round it out, the narrator offers a mock reassurance with the tone of a seasoned infomercial host. “At Autism $peaks, we’re not just identifying issues; we’re offering solutions. With our generous funding, tonight’s episode is designed to increase awareness, empower communities, and encourage reporting so that everyone can enjoy a world where trans autistics are a thing of the past.”
The screen fades, leaving only the Autism $peaks logo and their tagline: “Help us help you: one ‘safety call’ at a time.”
It’s absurd to the point of satire, an Orwellian reality TV ad where surveillance is sold as neighbourly duty, and “public safety” means erasing people like me from public life altogether—all while masquerading as “help.” Autism $peaks, in this grimly ridiculous universe, has become the backer of a nationwide hunt for those of us at the intersection of trans and autistic identities, cloaked in a banner of “protecting the public.”
Autism $peaks, Investing in a safer future
The screen shifts again, and the solemn narrator returns, introducing the latest “breakthrough” from Autism $peaks’ research division. “In its dedication to a safer future, Autism $peaks has generously funded a groundbreaking study to reveal the true impact of those identifying as both transgender and autistic,” he says with a dramatic pause, letting the supposed gravity of this announcement sink in.
A mock study title appears on screen in bold, capital letters: “The Threat Within: Understanding the Transgender Autistic and Its Impact on Public Order.” The narrator cites made-up statistics with all the authority of a seasoned news anchor. “Our research indicates that trans autistic individuals are three times more likely to exhibit ‘nonconforming behaviours,’ such as pronoun adjustment and self-expression that doesn’t align with traditional societal expectations. Moreover, they have a 400% higher likelihood of engaging in what our team has classified as ‘radical acts of authenticity.’”
With every invented statistic, a bar graph flashes onscreen, highlighting “data” that “proves” just how threatening these behaviours can be. “Thanks to Autism $peaks’ tireless dedication, we now understand that the combination of autism and trans identity creates an especially insidious group—one that, without intervention, could inspire countless others to consider lives of unapologetic existence,” the narrator warns.
He continues, as though explaining some ominous new virus. “Autism $peaks’ study recommends early intervention and vigilant monitoring of anyone displaying traits from both categories. Only by addressing these individuals early can we work towards the safer, more homogeneous society that Autism $peaks envisions.”
It’s a mockery of “research” turned surveillance, framed as benevolence. Autism $peaks is now invested in a future where identifying “problematic behaviours” means wiping out identities entirely—an Orwellian nightmare in clinical disguise.
This is a Public Service Announcement
The screen cuts to a “special announcement,” a glossy, overly serious PSA straight from Autism $peaks. A soft piano tune plays as stock footage of concerned families looking out their windows appears, faces shadowed in worry. Then, with the gravitas of a national security briefing, the narrator’s voice returns:
“As the numbers of transgendered autistics continue to rise across the nation, Autism $peaks advises parents and communities to remain informed, vigilant, and ever-watchful. The rapid spread of these identities poses unique challenges, ones that we, as concerned citizens, cannot afford to overlook.” The scene shifts to a neighbourhood watch meeting, complete with nodding parents, each clutching a brochure titled Spotting Trans Autistics in Your Community.
The narrator’s voice grows heavier. “It is essential to stay informed. If you see someone exhibiting behaviours that may seem unusual or nonconforming—such as confidently existing in public, adjusting their pronouns, or using accessible coping strategies like stimming—do not ignore it. These behaviours may signal the presence of a transgender autistic. Approach with caution; it is always safer to keep a safe distance and observe quietly.”
A list of “recommended actions” appears onscreen, with each suggestion highlighted in bold, as though part of some protective strategy. “1. Remain alert. 2. Do not interact directly. 3. Make note of any peculiarities, such as gender-affirming clothing or alternative pronouns. And, finally, 4. Report suspicious activity to Autism $peaks’ new Trans Autistic Surveillance Hotline.”*
The narrator continues, adopting a warm tone, but the content remains foreboding. “In these uncertain times, Autism $peaks wants to assure you that you’re not alone. Our community watch guides, available now on our website, will help you learn the signs and keep your family safe from unexpected encounters. Together, we can build a more secure, more predictable future, one watchful eye at a time.”
The PSA ends with a call to action: “Autism $peaks—here to support your vigilance in these trying times.” The words hang there, an invitation for every viewer to turn daily life into a game of hide-and-seek, with trans autistics as the “found.” It’s a chilling reminder of the paranoia that can be disguised as public service, equipping communities to feel “safe” by alienating those who don’t fit the mould.
Tools for the Public
The screen transitions to a cheerful announcer, introducing Autism $peaks’ latest “tools for the public”—a suite of resources designed to “help families identify potential threats in their communities.” First up is the “Trans Autistic Tracker” app, downloadable on all devices. “With cutting-edge facial recognition software,” the announcer beams, “this app scans public spaces for markers of gender variance and autistic traits, alerting users whenever a ‘high-risk individual’ enters a 30-metre radius.”
A tutorial demonstrates how to activate “Stealth Mode,” allowing the app to discreetly vibrate whenever it detects someone “suspicious,” ensuring users can keep tabs without drawing attention. “Empowering communities with real-time updates,” the app supposedly guarantees an “extra layer of safety,” while tracking individuals simply for existing.
Then, in an upbeat tone, the announcer showcases Autism $peaks’ downloadable “Restroom Watch Guide.” Aimed at “bathroom vigilantes,” it includes step-by-step “tips” for confronting anyone who doesn’t “seem to fit.” From “strategic loitering” outside stalls to “non-invasive questioning techniques,” the guide is touted as “essential reading for every concerned citizen.”
The tools’ invasive, absurd nature, masked as public service, reveals the campaign’s true aim: not safety, but a sanctioned form of surveillance, encouraging citizens to police, scrutinise, and report lives that don’t fit the “norm.”
Escape from the USA
With my face now plastered on “America’s Most Wanted,” I realise I need an escape plan—a disguise so foolproof, so absurdly stereotypical, it could only come from a terrible spy film.
First, I’m off to get “cis-passing” gear: a thick flannel shirt, a baseball cap pulled low, cargo shorts, and ‘tactical Crocs’—everything perfectly beige. But that’s only phase one. For a little extra caution, I throw in a pair of cheap aviators, ensuring maximum blending-in-at-the-hardware-store vibes. Next, I’ll need props. Nothing screams “I’m a real man” like holding a power drill. Do I know how to use it? Absolutely not. Will anyone question it? Hopefully also not.
Finally, I map out safe zones. First stop: the fishing section of any big-box store, where no one would suspect a trans autistic fugitive to hide. It’s hilariously desperate yet disturbingly plausible—the lengths one might go to for a taste of peace in a world that polices every glance, every gesture.
Report Unusual Behaviour
The camera zooms out, showing a “special report” on the state of the nation: an increasingly dystopian landscape where society is locked in a feverish crusade to root out “non-normative” behaviours. The scene unfolds in all its absurdity, with news anchors reporting on the latest legislative triumphs—new bills that penalise the use of brightly coloured hair dye, ban the wearing of “non-traditional” clothing on Wednesdays, and prohibit public displays of unusual joy, like spontaneous dancing or eccentric laughter.
In this reality, “national security” is redefined as the preservation of absolute homogeneity. Citizens huddle together in beige uniforms, scanning one another for subtle violations, careful not to draw attention. Children in school are graded on conformity; creativity is seen as a gateway behaviour. “Expressive Arts Enforcement” teams roam the streets, cracking down on outliers—anyone found whistling, wearing mismatched socks, or expressing identity outside the narrowly sanctioned norms.
The paranoia reaches fever pitch. Government-sponsored ads run 24/7, advising people to “Report Unusual Behaviour”—anything from unapproved music preferences to suspicious nail polish. “A safe society,” declares the ominous PSA tagline, “is a predictable one.”
The whole picture is both hilarious and chilling—a satirical glimpse of where unchecked obsession with “safety” and “normalcy” could lead. In this universe, individuality becomes the ultimate crime, punished by a society so afraid of difference that it has legislated away humanity itself.
The Pledge of Conformity
As the screen fades, a patriotic anthem swells in the background, and a final message rolls across the screen, urging viewers to “Join the Movement for a Safer Tomorrow.” The screen cuts to a scrolling pledge, inviting everyone at home to recite along.
“I hereby pledge to uphold the values of uniformity and predictability. I will remain vigilant against any individuals displaying signs of self-expression, authenticity, or other forms of nonconforming behaviour. I vow to report anyone I suspect of… well, being themselves, because it’s the little things that keep our society safe from… whatever threat we’re calling it this week.”
The screen adds new guidelines for prospective pledge-takers: Maintain a neutral expression in all public places; avoid association with brightly dressed persons; be on alert for individuals using creative pronouns, engaging in stimming, or—heaven forbid—smiling alone.
As the pledge rolls to a close, a button flashes onscreen: Report a Suspect Today! Earn Your Conformity Badge!
It’s all so ridiculous, yet uncomfortably close to the measures we see creeping in, as those who legislate identity chase the illusion of “safety” by erasing the humanity of those who dare to be different.
But let’s break the spell for a moment. Whilst they dream of a society where difference is erased, resilience grows in the margins. Support organisations, advocate for trans and autistic rights, and stay loud. Because we’ll keep existing, keep living authentically, no matter how many “pledges” they ask for.
Final thoughts …
Satire has always been a tool for tackling the unbearable. Through laughter and exaggeration, we confront the absurdity of the world around us and make sense of the unimaginable. By poking fun at society’s rigid rules and dehumanising agendas, satire offers a way to expose painful truths—truths that feel especially raw as we look around and see a nation divided over the basic worth of people like me.
The Power Threat Meaning Framework encourages us to understand what lies behind hostility and oppression: threats, meanings, and the power dynamics that drive people to see difference as dangerous. Looking at this election cycle through that lens, it’s hard to ignore the sheer number of Americans who have revealed, without hesitation, their willingness to label trans and autistic people as threats. We’ve been turned into symbols of what they fear, used to rally a majority against us under the guise of “protection” and “safety.” For those of us at the centre of their hostility, it’s a surreal and terrifying reality to navigate.
Moving forward, it’s difficult to find hope in a country where half the population seems eager to see us erased. How do we coexist with people who want us gone? It’s a question that looms as we try to carve out lives here. But even as we face rejection, we find our resilience in each other and our determination to continue existing, against the odds, as our true selves.