The Autistic Experience

I was stripped of choices from the beginning of my conception. I did not choose to be born into the world that punishes you for being different. My body was scarred when they took the choice from me. I was circumcised and not asked. I grew in a family that wanted me but every time I was loud or hyperactive, I was beaten. Sticks, belts, hangers, slippers, shoes, kicks, punches, and slaps. Alienated without a sibling to relate to. It was okay for my sisters to bully me, make fun of my mental health and hit me but I was not allowed to hit back. I did not want to hit anyone and was always sorry but that did not mean it would spare me from the blisters caused by my dad’s staff. I was beaten for being noisy and as I ran, cried, and begged him to stop, I was beaten more because boys shouldn’t cry. I learned to cry with my head stuffed in a pillow, my screams were silenced, and my expression denied.

I was 14 when I was fingered by a 50-year-old in the middle of the street. I ran and when I told my dad that a man touched me, he looked at me with disappointment saying, “You should have slapped him and not run away”. It was a year later when my best friend used me to pleasure himself. It was forced but like so many other things I did not know the difference. I was happy until he told everyone that I was a faggot in a country it would get me killed. I was touched by my instructor in the car, he forced me to stroke him. I shunned away but he pulled down my shirt and wanked off as he sniffed me. It continued a few times and I felt as if I wanted it. I felt guilty and ashamed as I suffered the abuse from someone twice my age. I was hesitant to tell anyone, but I managed to escape.

My adult life started with my friend treating me like a celebratory hole. I thought he loved me until he told me he was straight, and I was just there. The abuse from my father continued and as I fled our home once to my mates, vulnerable, crying, and afraid, he touched me as I slept. He forced his finger down my hole and when I stopped him paralyzed with fear, he caressed my genitals and did not stop. I had to go back home because that was the only place, I knew I wouldn’t be sexualized. I was at a wedding when I shared a bed with a relative’s friend. I had asked him out and he denied saying he was straight so I concluded it to that, but he woke me up in the middle of the night as he pulled my boxers down and before I could stop him filled them with his cum. It was Valentine’s Day, and I met a senior from my school. He was a doctor and wanted to catch up with me. I was lonely but made it clear it was nothing more than friendship. I sat in his living room, and he kissed me, I turned my face to the side. He forced my clothes off and as I asked him to stop, he forced me up in his arms and took me to his bedroom. I was thrown on the bed and as I felt paralyzed, I mustered all my strength saying no I don’t want to. He forced his finger down my rectum without lube. It hurt and as I begged him to stop, he shoved his penis inside of me. I felt numb as he thrusted deep and hard, I requested him to the very least not cum inside of me. I was autistic and hated the texture of cum. It was always forced on me anyways. And he did not respect any of my wishes. He lay on top of me as I breathed slowly wishing to die. His weight on top of me pressed against me as he whispered in my ear he loved me. This is how he lost his virginity. He was 28 and I was 22. I did not recognize it as rape until a later age. I remember telling a friend about how I was raped and he asked me if I liked it because I was someone who enjoyed anal sex. And this was someone who made videos talking about abuse and rape in our society.

A year gone by, and my partner and I watched a movie in which a guy rapes his friend. My partner knew what I had gone through but asked me to reenact the scene. As I lay there, damp, passive playing the characters from the movie telling him to stop I went back into my trauma. I was not reliving my rape, but I was detached from reality just like I was then. In almost 7 years of our relationship, he would make me be passive for him when I did not want to, and he would emotionally blackmail me into having sex even when I didn’t want to. I enjoyed sex with my partner but when I said no to him, he would get upset and I cared more about keeping him happy then respecting my body and autonomy. I would be his pleasure but be gutted for not being aroused.

I was at my friend’s house and his other friend snuck in my bed touching me as I told him to stop half asleep. I breathed deeply and slept as he dry humped me the entire night. I told my friend, and he was a PhD psychologist who told me, “Not to victim blame you but you do kind of act like a whore”. I was harassed by the police for wearing a tank top as they asked me inappropriate questions. They exclaimed “You have a great body, do you model” and as I tried to escape, they touched me and asked if I liked taking it up my ass. My reflex was to say no, and I rushed to pick my sister from her friend’s house. I told her and she asked me why I was wearing a tank top in the first place. So many times, the police harassed me, whenever I pass them by, I feel anxious and dissociate.

Losing my autonomy since birth, growing up accepting my body could be abused, being abused by friends and trainers, and being touched in the night waking up with blue balls, I have never felt connected to my body.

“I struggle to hold you daily, I suffer from the burden, and I still carry you with hate and shame.”