Let me count the ways. First, there’s the fact that she comes with an AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) device, a tool that helps non- and minimally speaking people communicate. My favorite method of communication is writing on my laptop—I can be a motormouth when you get me going. Next, she wears noise-cancelling earmuffs to help protect against sensory overload, where I find the sensation of them against my ears causes more dysregulation than it prevents. Then there are her eyes, which look slightly off to one side to represent the fact that many autistic people don’t make eye contact because it’s too uncomfortable, and we don’t get the same nonverbal feedback that neurotypical people do, anyway. I, meanwhile, took people too literally when they told me to look them in the eye as an undiagnosed child. As a result, I sometimes make too much eye contact, like I’m staring through people’s souls. The doll’s wrists and elbows are articulated so that she can flap her hands—I’ve always been more of a hair twirler when it comes to stimming. Her dress is loose-fitting to cut down on fabric to skin contact, while I find fitness compression gear more soothing. She’s brown and I’m white.