Unseen, overlooked, and undiagnosed,
But signs were always there.
Everyone else knew the script,
The hidden social rules.
What to say, how to act,
When to smile, when to laugh.
We were not so lucky,
Labeled weird or quirky.
“Don’t worry,” the grown-ups said,
“She’s a girl, they’re normally quiet.”
Not knowing, not seeing,
I was silent for a reason.
Conversations were hard to grasp,
Eye contact was a challenge,
Unable to read body language,
We either said too much or way too little.
Always seen as odd or aloof,
We did not know why we’d obsessively organize and collect,
Why changes in our routines gave us such fright,
Why certain noises or textures triggered deep horror.
We retreated into ourselves,
Built worlds in our minds to cope.
We read stories and escaped into new realities,
Where we were no longer the odd outsider.
It was easier to be alone,
Solitude was our safe space.
To relax, to unmask,
To finally be ourselves.
But to survive in the real world,
We had to mask, we had to mimic.
We rehearsed what to say, how to act, how to smile.
For girls, these traits were not concerning,
All the signs, all the symptoms were there.
So why do girls go unseen, overlooked, and undiagnosed?
Stella E. Uzoewulu is a fourth-year medical student at Rush Medical College, Chicago.