Finding My Tribe: Autism, Acceptance, and the Unexpected Magic of a Gay Bar

I've always been a creature of habit. A comfortable routine, a favorite restaurant, the same order every time – these are the things that ground me. So, there I was, on a Wednesday night, doing my usual post-work food run near the Meatpacking District. This particular spot, bless its all-night soul, sits right next to those impossibly chic clubs.

Sitting at the bar, blissfully disheveled, I was guarding my food like a precious treasure when I noticed her. Let's call her Felicity. During my freshman year, someone etched "Stop Staring At Me" onto my dry-erase board in permanent marker. Now, I try to be more discreet. But Felicity? She wasn’t afraid to make the first move, striking up a conversation with the guy next to her. And then, a surprising jolt of… something. Excitement? Connection?

The Search for "My Place"

I've always searched for a place where I truly fit. Years ago, I discovered a laid-back hippie bar back home. People liked me there. I made friends. But that feeling of *complete* connection? It remained elusive. When I'm with them, life feels… heightened, but still not totally right.

Then, there are the "malignant misfits," as I call them – those guys who zero in on vulnerability like sharks sensing blood. I can practically smell them coming. They ooze forward, some with a clumsy attempt at sophistication that would make a seasoned woman chuckle, others with a sinister "I'm deeply concerned" look in their eyes.

But Felicity? She was different. Genuine.

Dancing Outside the Lines: Embracing the Unexpected

Before I knew it, Felicity had me by the arm, whisking me away like a top-hatted gentleman escorting a lady to a big band show. First order of business: a drink, on her. Then, the dancing. I dance with abandon, frequently off-beat. But in some of the gay clubs my friends took me to in college, this was considered "hip." I made friends with a lot of gay guys precisely *because* they thought I was outrageous. Is this a place for me?

Why gay bars, you might wonder? It's not necessarily about sexual orientation, though that might play a part for some. For me, it's the sense of freedom, the lack of judgment, the celebration of individuality. It's a space where "different" isn't just tolerated, it's embraced. Where my quirky stims might be seen as an interesting dance move. Are they a place for community?

Of course, not every experience is perfect. I remember one night when some guy with the obligatory striped button-down shirt chest-bumped me on the dance floor. Defeated, I retreated to our table. But even then, there was a sense of camaraderie, of shared understanding.

Autism and Accessibility: A Critical Conversation

Here's the thing: while I've found a sense of belonging in certain queer spaces, it's crucial to acknowledge that not all spaces are created equal. As more people understand, we can make strides into creating autistic-friendly spaces.

Many of my autistic friends rely on ear protection at bars, overwhelmed by the sensory overload. Some even find comfort in puppy hoods, which provide both auditory and social support. But many queer spaces, events, and practices, while not intentionally exclusionary, are simply not accessible to autistic individuals.

Think about it: flashing lights, loud music, crowded spaces, pressure to socialize, unspoken social cues – these are all potential barriers. Creating truly inclusive spaces requires conscious effort and understanding.

Ten Autistics in a Room: A Thought Experiment

Someone once posed the question: what would happen if you put ten autistic people in a room together? Would they interact? Would they repel each other? Or, would they reach into their pockets and sling mashed potatoes for comfort?

The truth is, the possibilities are endless. We might talk for hours about our special interests. We might become fixated on the architecture and décor. We might retreat into our own worlds, perfectly content in our solitude. What's a night with all autistic people like?

Would it become an "autistic bar" by default? I don't know. But I do know that the prospect of being in a space where there's no pressure to conform, where stimming is accepted, and where my quirks are celebrated is incredibly appealing.

Building Bridges: Towards a More Inclusive Future

The search for community is a universal human need. For autistic queer individuals, that search can be particularly challenging. Bars and clubs, while potentially liberating spaces, are rarely fully accessible. However, with increased awareness and conscious effort, we can create more inclusive environments where everyone feels welcome and celebrated.

I am still learning. Felicity is someone I made plans with and I am glad I did so. The beauty of it is that people can befriend just about anyone. We can have great times with those around us, if we let ourselves. It requires an open mind and willingness to connect on a human level.

Ultimately, finding my tribe has been a journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and unexpected connections. It's about embracing my authentic self, flaws and all, and finding those who appreciate me for who I am. And sometimes, that means finding magic in the most unexpected places, like a gay bar in the Meatpacking District.