For a very long time, I had thought that I had to choose: was I "too much" because I was neurodivergent, or because I was queer?
Turns out, the answer was both—and neither.
I didn't have the language for what was happening to me when I was a child. I just knew I didn't fit. I couldn't figure out all the unwritten rules that everyone else seemed to understand so intuitively. Social norms were puzzles. Gender was enclosures. And while others appeared to slide into neat, familiar boxes, I existed somewhere beyond them—clumsily, loudly, and wholely me.
It wasn't until years after that I found the labels for these fragments of myself: Autism. ADHD. Nonbinary. Genderqueer. These weren't pigeonholes that reduced me. They were keys to letting me into a world that had always tried to force me into another's shape.
Pattern Recognition
One of the most beautiful things about being neurodivergent is the way that my brain perceives patterns that other people can't. It's also how I came to realize that my discomfort with gender wasn't "just a phase" or being dramatic—it was an internal, gut feeling that the binary just didn't work for me. The rigidity of "man" or "woman" was roughly equivalent to attempting to eat soup with a fork.
For the vast majority of us who are neurodivergent, the "rules" of gender just. don't work. We defy them not because we're trying to be contrary, but because we literally think and experience the world differently. Gender rules can be arbitrary, illogical, or even cruel. And if your default mode of thought is "Why does this rule exist?" then it's only natural that gender would be open to question too.
Masking and Unmasking
Existing as a neurodivergent individual frequently involves unmasking—repressing intrinsic behaviors in order to become more "acceptable." It's exhausting, disorienting, and deeply connected to survival. The same is true for much of the trans and nonbinary community who have had to mask their gender identity in order to survive.
Unmasking, therefore, becomes revolutionary.
When I eventually began peeling away those layers, as a neurodivergent person and as a nonbinary individual, I discovered I wasn't broken—I was blooming. The freedom to stim, the freedom to wear what felt comfortable on my skin, the freedom to use proper pronouns, to take up space without apology. all because I gave myself the freedom to be me.
The Intersection Isn't Rare—It's Just Understood Less
Science has finally begun to reveal what many of us have felt in our bones: that there is a rich intersection between gender diversity and neurodivergence. Autistic and ADHD people are statistically overrepresented as transgender or gender nonconforming. Instead of pathologizing that, perhaps we can learn to see it for what it is: an intimate, rich sense of self that isn't bound by convention.
We aren't lost. We're expansive.
Holding Space for the Both/And
Being genderqueer and neurodivergent, I see the world in terms impossible to put into words—but no less real. I need structure and fluidity. I adore routine, but detest rigidity. I find freedom within my complexity.
It also means I get to be doubly vigilant with self-care, community care, and mental health care. Navigating systems that weren't built for people like me—medical, social, or otherwise—can be exhausting. But I also get to be part of building new systems, new families, new languages of love and freedom.
If This is You Too
If you are reading this and nodding your head—maybe for the first time—knowing you are not alone. Maybe you are just learning about your neurodivergence, your gender identity, or both. I am seeing you. You don't have to have all the answers. There is no single right way to be human.
You are not "too much." You are enough, just as you are.
You are allowed to occupy space, to unmask, to be fluid, to shift, to feel. You are allowed to exist outside the binary—in your head, in your body, and in your spirit.
And if nobody's told you yet today: I'm proud of you.
https://inclusivetherapygroup.com/blog/beyond-the-binary-brain
