From Band T-shirts to Corporate Suits and Back Again: Reclaiming My Heavy Metal Style as a Neurodivergent Woman

There was a time when my wardrobe screamed rebellion, identity, and freedom. As a huge fan of heavy metal music, I wanted to show the world my love of the genre, loud and proud. Back in the late 1980s and early 1990s, you’d find me stomping through the streets of Worcester in a Metallica, Iron Maiden, Slayer or Black Sabbath T-shirt, fringed skirts, jeans and a biker jacket with studs. My boots were heavy, my eyeliner was thick and black, and my soundtrack? It was and is always heavy metal – the louder the better.

Back then, dressing that way wasn’t a costume or a teenage phase, although I think my parents wanted it to be a phase. For me, it was a HUGE lifeline. Music and identity were woven into my DNA. Heavy metal saved me, embraced me when the world didn’t, and gave me a place to belong when I didn’t even understand what “belonging” really meant. I am a HUGE fan of Queen/Freddie Mercury and of Black Sabbath/Ozzy Osbourne in particular; both icons and bands showed me that it was okay to be different, and through their lyrics and songs I found my place in the world.

But somewhere along the way, mainly under the crushing weight of societal expectations and expectations from my parents, the pressure to “grow up” and the silent shame I felt around my differences meant I let that vital part of me slip away.

This is the story of how I muted myself, how I tried to blend in by masking heavily, and how I’m now unapologetically reclaiming my heavy metal style and with it, my voice, my neurodivergent me, and my truth.

The Metal Years: A Teenage Identity Forged in Fire

Let’s rewind to my teenage years in Worcester. While the other girls in my class were donning pastel crop tops and mimicking whatever the latest pop group was doing, I was buried in Kerrang! and Metal Hammer magazines and hoarding cassettes of Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden amongst others like sacred relics. I hid in the cloakrooms at school listening to heavy metal music on my Sony Walkman, huddled into the corner so as not to be seen and risk having my beloved Walkman confiscated by one of the teachers.

I wasn’t into heavy metal to try and be cool, I was into it because I felt that it understood me. The chaos, the noise, the emotional complexity, the rawness. It mirrored the storm inside my mind that I didn’t yet know had names like autism, ADHD, and dyspraxia. Back then, I just KNEW I was “different” with others seeing me as being “too much” and “too sensitive.” Music gave me words to help me express myself when I didn’t have them. It was both armour and a lifeline, and it was how I met my first boyfriend Nick* as a teenager. I was in Magpie Records in Worcester like I always was on a Saturday, he walked in wearing a Slayer T-shirt and I said a nervous “hello” to him on the way out from one metal fan to another. A few months later we met up in The Horn and Trumpet pub AKA The Blower, got talking through another mutual friend of ours, became friends and it went from there. We stayed together for over 5 years.

What I wore reflected the heavy metal music that I love. Band T-shirts which were faded and oversized. A studded belt that weighed nearly as much as I did. Biker jackets layered over anything with fringe or fishnet. My clothes weren’t just an aesthetic. They were a declaration and said to the world: I may not fit in, but I definitely belong somewhere, and I belong in heavy metal.

The Masking Years: Marriage, Muting, and Trying to Be “Acceptable”

But then came my early twenties and with it, a huge pressure to “grow out of it.”

When I got married to my ex-wife in August 1996, everything changed. Not because of her, but because of the invisible expectations that came with trying to look the part of a professional adult, of a wife, and of a socially acceptable woman. My heavy metal clothes that once made me feel alive and expressive suddenly felt childish in the eyes of the world. I was told both directly by my parents on many occasions (but always behind closed doors and never in front of anyone else) and indirectly by others that it was time to “grow up” and “tone it down.”

So I did.

Out came several black bin bags and into them went all my band t-shirts, fringed skirts and studded belts. It all went to local charity shops. My beloved leather biker jacket was replaced by a tailored jacket. I started buying “smart” clothes that I didn’t like, shoes that made my feet ache, and dresses that looked “pretty” but didn’t feel like me. I remember in 1997 when a friend of the family turned 70 and had a party my mother picked out a cream lace dress for me to wear and did my hair in an up-do that didn’t make me feel like me, plus I hated the feel of the lace against my skin. She said it was very important that I dressed up, looked the part and “didn’t let the side down”, whatever that meant. Ever the dutiful daughter, I went along with it and played my part, masking how I really felt inside and trying to ignore the scratchiness of the lace against my skin. The truth was I hated it and I hated what I had become.

The change in me didn’t happen overnight. It was slow, creeping, and deeply disorienting. But before long I was dressed in beige and other muted colours, speaking softly, and constantly self-monitoring myself. And the worst part? I thought this was what adulthood was supposed to feel and be like.

But deep down, I was utterly exhausted.

I now know that I was masking. Not just my personality or my behaviour, but my entire self. I was trying to pass as someone who was neurotypical, professional, and “normal.” It worked, in a way. But at what cost?

Diagnosis & Awakening: Understanding and Being Neurodivergent

It wasn’t until my mid forties that things began to make sense. I was diagnosed as autistic in 2018, and everything clicked. The years of overwhelm, social anxiety, miscommunication, sensory overload, rigid thinking and the constant effort to fit in all finally had an explanation.

In 2023, more diagnoses followed. My diagnosis of autism was re-confirmed, and I was also diagnosed with ADHD, dyspraxia, dyscalculia, C-PTSD and borderline personality disorder traits from a lifetime of bullying, significant exposure to narcissistic abuse and trauma. Some people might have been devastated by that many labels. But for me, it was the opposite. It was liberating.

I wasn’t broken. I was just wired differently. It is no wonder I had C-PTSD and borderline personality disorder traits thanks to all the bullying and narcissistic abuse I endured throughout my lifetime.

But more importantly, in spite all my diagnoses, I knew I didn’t need to be fixed. I just needed to be me.

Reclaiming My Heavy Metal Style: Dressing for the Real Me

Part of my self-acceptance journey involved a big, bold, and slightly terrifying step: going back to the heavy metal style I left behind as a teenager.

It started small. I wore a Queen t-shirt to a Zoom meeting one day. Then I bought myself a new faux leather biker jacket from Ebay and a wide range of band t-shirts, many of which I owned years ago. Before long, I was pulling on my band tees, my biker jacket and my heavy metal jeans.  I even found a few vintage fringed skirts on Ebay like the ones I used to wear as a teenager.

The moment I put them on, something clicked.

I felt comfortable. Not just physically, but emotionally, cognitively, and spiritually. I wasn’t dressing for the world anymore. I was dressing for me.

And here’s what surprised me. I perform better in meetings, on stage as a speaker or in social situations when I’m dressed in clothes that feel authentic. There’s less cognitive dissonance. Less energy spent pretending. More capacity to focus on what matters.

Of course, there are a few occasions where I do have to wear smarter clothes or business attire. For example, there was no way I could have met King Charles III on 18 December 2023 when he presented me with my MBE for services to cyber security and diversity, equity, belonging and inclusion (DEIB) wearing a heavy metal band T-shirt and a biker jacket. But thanks to my very good friend and mentor James Bore from Security Blend Books (my publisher for my “The Rise of the Cyber Women” and “The Varied Origins of the Cyber Men” book series) I picked up a tip that helped me feel like myself even when having to dress to conform. He said I should find something that becomes iconic to wear as part of my personal brand which could be anything from a colour to an item of clothing. He said that whatever I choose, the important thing is I should always wear it so it becomes part of me and part of my personal brand.

One day after getting this bit of advice from James, by accident I wore a flower clip in my hair. From that point onwards, it became my trademark and whenever I go to a cyber security conference, speak at an event or perform at a poetry open mic event (whether in person or virtually) I always wear a flower in my hair. I now have lots of different ones in various colours and styles to match whatever I happen to be wearing.

It works because whenever I am at conferences or events people come up to me to introduce themselves, especially those who have connected with me via my LinkedIn profile, and say they recognised me because of the flower in my hair. Also, whenever I go to cyber security conferences or events I dress in a smart casual style, usually smart jeans/trousers, boots and a tailored jacket, but I pair all this with a humourous T-shirt. An example of this is my “Siber Security” T-shirt from Teddy The Dog which was a gift to me from my good friend Dianna in California. Every time I wear it especially to cyber security conferences and events I always get positive comments about it. And this in turn helps my confidence, especailly when I’m delivering a talk.

Why Style Matters for Neurodivergent People

For many neurodivergent people like me, clothing isn’t just a fashion statement. It’s sensory, emotional, and psychological. The wrong fabric, cut, or aesthetic can create physical discomfort and emotional dysregulation. For example, for me I can’t BEAR the sensation of velvet, silk or satin. Pure linen and lace feels rough and coarse on my skin. But wearing right clothes and fabrics can feel like a safe space in a chaotic world.

Also, let’s not forget the social pressure. Autistic masking is real. ADHD masking is real. And a HUGE part of that masking involves conforming to how we’re expected to look. We spend our lives absorbing the message that who we are is “too much,” “too weird,” “too loud,” “too emotional” and so on. We shrink ourselves to make ourselves appear smaller and to blend into the background. I know I certainly did.

But I’ve learned that the more I lean into what makes me feel aligned, even something as simple as a band t-shirt or a biker jacket, the more regulated, confident, and empowered I feel.

Dressing in my heavy metal band t-shirts and clothes has also helped me in certain social situations. Yesterday I took myself off to Birmingham on my own without #HubbyRuss to do the Black Sabbath trail and to see all the tributes for Ozzy Osbourne who passed away on 22 July. Everywhere I went on the trail there were people wearing Black Sabbath or Ozzy T-shirts, biker jackets or cut-off denim jackets with band patches sewn onto them (something else I wore as a teenager) and I knew that I was safe around them. I knew that I was safe to talk to them and strike up conversations, and that we had something fundamental in common. I’ve made some incredible friends this way, through the unspoken words that wearing my heavy metal clothing provides. It has been a huge lifeline.

Full Circle: Dressing Loudly, Living Boldly

I’m in my early fifties now. I no longer care about being palatable, likeable or acceptable. I care about being real. And that real version of me?

She loves heavy metal music.

She is #OpenlyNeurodivergent and proud.

She wears what she damn well pleases!

My style today is an unapologetic fusion of who I was, who I became, and who I choose to be. And if that means wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt under a smart jacket while delivering a keynote on cyber security and AI ethics for example, then so be it.

When I dress for myself in my heavy metal clothes, I’m not just getting dressed. I’m coming home to me. #HubbyRuss who I got married to in 2013 probably despairs, but I think he understands this. He isn’t into heavy metal at all but rather more “pop” stuff. Sometimes I think to myself what the hell did I marry (I’m only kidding if you read this #HubbyRuss 😎).

Joking apart he is the absolute best as he puts up with my autistic “special interest” of heavy metal music and even finds documentaries and things for me to watch on YouTube that he thinks I might like. He often puts them on the TV in the evenings when we spend time together despite the fact he’s not keen on heavy metal music himself. Recently he has found lots of things for me to watch about Ozzy Osbourne and Black Sabbath following Ozzy’s passing on 22 July, and understood when I decided to go to Birmingham at very short notice yesterday to do the Black Sabbath trail and pay my respects to Ozzy. He is an absolute diamond 🥰

Going back to my ex-wife, I am sure she will understand this article because she is transgender and on her own journey to becoming her true, authentic self. She may not have picked up on or guessed the internal struggle I had every single day trying to conform and be someone I wasn’t when we were married, and in turn I had no idea or clue that she too was masking her true and authentic self. We have both definitely come full circle with being who we really are, and we are much happier as a result, even if we both realised it quite late in life. I for one intend to make every single day I have left on this earth count and be my authentic self until the day I die.

To Anyone Hiding Their True Style (or True Self)

If you’re neurodivergent or just feel like you’ve lost parts of yourself in the pursuit of fitting in, I want you to hear this. You are allowed to come home to yourself. You are allowed to dress how you want. You are allowed to wear clothes that feel like you. You are allowed to be loud, expressive and unapologetically you.

The world needs more people who dress for their souls, not for the status quo.

So pull out that band t-shirt you are so proud of. Dust off your biker jacket. Wear the damn boots.

Let your outside reflect your inside. Loudly. Proudly. Authentically.

You’ve got nothing to hide anymore.

* – not his real name.