Throughout my life, music has always been something that’s brought me comfort. I’ve always loved looking for myself in the lyrics of my favorite songs. One of the artists whose songs I always found bits and pieces of myself in is SZA. Between her brutal, raw honesty, beautiful lyrics that hit a little (too) close to home, and themes of how difficult it is to be a twentysomething, her music has spoken to me in a way that other people’s music doesn’t. In a way, her music has beautifully captured what my experience has been like growing up as an autistic woman of color, and it suddenly made sense why after a post she made on her burner account.
On July 5, SZA took to her private Instagram account, @notmusicatalliswear, to open up about her official formal autism spectrum disorder diagnosis. “Finally took the time [and] got formally diagnosed,” the singer wrote in the caption. She humorously continued with, “Stop playing in my face ’cause pattern recognition told me and I WILL get to the bottom of it, thanks.”
The announcement was met with an outpouring of support and love from her fans (myself included). Many fans, especially autistic women, have expressed how much it means to them for a well-known artist to open up about being autistic, and that SZA is the representation they needed. And as an autistic woman of color, SZA’s announcement isn’t just another celebrity headline — it’s more than that.
Growing up autistic was a lonely — and at times, alienating — experience. Being autistic made things more difficult for me from the time I was young: I was diagnosed with autism when I was in elementary school and faced a lot of bullying — and things didn’t get much better in middle school. I had a lot of trouble making friends, and the ones I did make never stuck around for long. Socializing became a lot easier in high school, but I swapped out my issues with fitting in for another set of issues: dealing with insecurities.
Navigating these years is hard, and SZA’s music reminds me that it’s OK to feel lost and confused and not have it all together.
In high school, I began to grow incredibly self-conscious and anxious about how other people saw me. Was I too much? Was I not enough? Am I annoying to others? Do they see me like them, or am I not normal again? Fitting in was something I wanted so badly, yet I always felt like I’d never be “normal” like everyone else because of my autism. All I had wanted when I was growing up was to fit in with everyone else, but I felt like that would never be possible for me.
I started listening to SZA in college, and it didn’t take long for her to become my favorite artist of all time. I found myself playing certain songs on repeat because of how much they resonated with me.
One of my all-time favorite songs is “Drew Barrymore,” and in it, SZA opens up about her fears of being not enough while simultaneously being too much. As someone who loves deeply and intensely, and has anxious attachment issues, this song hit very close to home. The lyrics “Sorry I just need to see you / Sorry I’m so clingy, I don’t mean to be a lot” reminded me so much of how anxious I am in romantic relationships due to my autism.
Another song that I instantly fell in love with on the first listen was “Normal Girl,” in which SZA sings about feeling pressured to be like every other normal girl and to be loved for who she is. It was something I deeply related to, especually due to my struggles with not feeling “normal” throughout my entire childhood. And in songs like “Prom,” “Miles,” and “20 Something,” she perfectly captured my growing pains and how it feels to be a girl in her twenties. Navigating these years is hard, and SZA’s music reminds me that it’s OK to feel lost and confused and not have it all together.
With SZA’s diagnosis being revealed, a lot of her music has been recontextualized for me, adding so much more meaning to her discography. Knowing that she’s autistic made me feel less alone in my experiences as an autistic woman of color, and I love how beautifully she’s put my lived experience into words.
SZA is an example of how something that’s typically seen as a negative can be a gift — and how autism isn’t ever a barrier to how successful someone can be in life, love, and friendships. I’ve always felt like people view autism as a “bad thing” and a disability that puts limits on what you can do, but SZA is a prime example of how, despite having a diagnosis such as autism, you can still thrive, feel, and connect.