This here. This right here is autistic joy. Autistic DJ joy. The kind that bubbles up and dances like no one is watching.

DJing is my special interest. Disco my self-soother. First Choice’s Let No Man Put Asunder my lifetime obsession

Being an autistic DJ isn’t always the geeky joy it appears from the outside, the overthinking, the sensory overload, and the rejection sensitivity dysphoria can be crippling. Waiting for bookings, reworking and reworking then reworking those promoter emails, hoping for bookings, hauling in the hyperfocus only to lose it again, planning the festies, talking access riders, praying for set times, writing the to-do lists. The endless lists.  Expecting and accepting rejection, overthinking responses, planning transitions, choosing tunes, coping with changes, being unable to regulate body temperature (yeah like that works in nightclubs!), and projecting a version of one’s almost stable self on social media. If only it was all as simple as the outfit of the day. Dealing with the fallout as anxiety and insomnia meet pre-gig each and every time and do it all sober, alcohol and doh-dah free – ignoring the demons that were so good at filtering the hard bits but fried my neurodivergent wiring.

But then, oh then, the cowbells kick in, the disco does that divine thing and if I’m lucky the jumping for autistic joy begins. The cork on the build-up pops. The anxiety gives way, and the pure delight in playing records and standing next to the woman I love begins. Every overthought anxious RJD moment in my head gives way to the rush of playing for you dear clubber. Pure autistic joy. For however long I’m booked to play – occasional issue with eye contact, wtf do I look like / duck me it’s Hot In Herre mini-crisis aside.  That neurological nightmare that makes me unable to manage my emotions suddenly is a fantastic brain fuck I can’t get enough of. Feeling everything. All of it. Right now. Thanks to some suitcase at the door.

And then I’m done. Really done. Set played. The overload hits me like a disco-delayed truck, waiting for the shutdown as my autistic head heads back to its reality – DJing distraction done and dusted.

But that’s all good. Rest is a wonderful thing. Self-soothing with gardening and playlists and planning and tune hunting and walking the dawg works. Kinda. Ready for the next pre-gig overthink, the endless whirring that makes me who I am. An autistic DJ lucky enough to feel the autistic joy when some soul somewhere decides they want Wildblood and Queenie, that pair of older queer dears to play them some disco. See you at the front. I’ll be the one dancing.   

Thank you to DJ Faro and Daisha for the footage and the love, Love Supreme for no questions asked access rider, Blue IN Green for the best dancers, Patterns for the opportunity, Rochelle Fleming for the vocal of a lifetime, and Queenie for being my biggest fan. Literally.