Neurodiversity

When we talk about the concept of neurodiversity, we are talking about how the brains of every single human being are wired differently. Every one of us has a unique way of experiencing the world around us. In that sense, we are all neurodiverse. All variations in neurological wiring are natural and part of human neurodiversity, just like we have biodiversity and gender diversity.  

When we talk about people being neurodivergent or experiencing neurodivergence, we are talking about someone whose brain deviates significantly from neuronormative expectations. The majority of people have brains that fit within societal neuronormative expectations, meaning that they can usually keep up with demands of work, study, and socialisation without too much stress and that they communicate in ways that align with social and cultural expectations. This is what we are referring to when we say someone is ‘neurotypical’ or ‘part of the neuromajority’. It does not mean that someone does not have their own unique way of experiencing the world and it also does not imply that they never experience anything out of the ‘ordinary’ realm, just that overall, they ‘fit’ well enough.

There are many types of neurodivergence, some of which are assumed to be innate or at least develop within the early developmental period (e.g., Autism, Down’s syndrome, ADHD, Dyslexia), some of which are acquired (e.g., Traumatic Brain Injury, PTSD, Dissociative Identity Disorder [DID]), and some of which are caused by a combination of innate sensitivity and external triggers (e.g., Schizophrenia, Bipolar, anxiety and depression, pervasive personality patterns such as Borderline). Some types of neurodivergence might be unwelcome and lead someone to seek out treatment (e.g., depression) in the hope of seeking out a cure and returning to a state that matches the neuromajority, while others might be hardwired into a person’s every way of being and as such cannot be ‘taken away’.

For those neurodivergences that are unchangeable (e.g., Autism, ADHD), that cannot be altered in full (e.g., Bipolar, Schizophrenia), or where change is undesirable (e.g., a DID system choosing not to integrate as life as a plural system rather than an individual is all they’ve ever known and is preferable to them), it is important that we learn to accommodate differences and celebrate strengths. For example, an autistic person or ADHDer might have an exceptional ability to focus on areas of interest, leading them to develop expertise in a subject and allowing for insightful research or the development of much-needed products. Someone with bipolar or schizophrenia might be incredibly creative, and be able to turn manic or psychotic experiences into art that resonates with many.

These are examples that can be applied to any neurodivergent person, regardless of the type of neurodivergence they experience, but that are important to consider. This does not mean that we need to buy into the ‘superpower’ myth, which is often damaging as it pressures neurodivergent people to have, display, or properly ‘capitalise’ a skill to prove their worth in society. Acknowledging and encouraging strengths also does not mean ignoring challenges, which are worthy of support.

Identity-first versus person-first language

In some neurodivergent communities there has been a debate around the use of identity-first versus person-first language. This debate has especially been lively in those with neurodevelopmental differences, although it has also been had by other neurodivergent groups. In the autistic community, identity-first language is generally preferred as autism is hard-wired into a person’s neurology. The argument that you’ll often hear is that someone is not just walking around with a suitcase with autism, as without autism, they would never be the same person. They would not experience some smells, sounds, and sights more intensely than others while hardly noticing others at all; they would not be a direct, literal communicator who is not keen on small-talk and is not wired for indirect, figurative communication; they would not focus for hours on end on organising spreadsheets and coding.

Those who prefer person-first language are often inclined to view their neurodivergence as a medical illness, or something that has happened to them which they are either hoping to cure or needing to learn to live with. For example, people often say that they ‘have’ PTSD, not that they ‘are’ PTSD, even when their post-traumatic stress has been long-standing. Pervasive personality patterns or differences, however, more often find their way into a person’s identity (e.g., ‘Bordie’ or ‘Borderliner’, ‘sociopath’, ‘narcissist’), as do some more long-standing psychological differences (e.g., ‘schizophrenic’). The language that is used to identify or ‘diagnose’ different types of neurodivergence influences this, as some labels simply don’t really fit neatly into identity-first language (e.g., people may use ‘manic depressive’ [an outdated term] rather than ‘bipolaric’, which would be correct but sounds odd).

In the end, using person-first or identity-first language is a personal choice. It is always wise to verify with another person how they would like to be referred to. If you’ve just been identified as neurodivergent and are feeling unsure, you can give both a try and see what resonates more with you, or use both types of referring to your differences interchangeably if you don’t mind either way.

Disability versus neurotype

Many types of neurodivergence can be disabling, can be considered disabilities, and are included in anti-discrimination laws. Yet at the same time, many neurodivergent people do not identify as having a disability, do not want to be viewed as ‘disabled’, and even take offense when someone tells them that their difference is considered a disability. There are a few different things that we need to unpack when this occurs, including how we view disability, what constitutes disability, and what disability means for a person. For many people, disability has negative connotations and is associated with being stigmatised. This stigma is perpetuated in western societies by individualism and capitalism inherent in the culture, and the pervasive view that those who cannot keep up are ‘lazy’ or ‘welfare hogs’.

In the neurodiversity affirming movement, we tend to practise from what is called the social model of disability. The social model postulates that disability is caused by society not being accessible to everyone. For example, from this perspective a wheelchair-bound person is only disabled when there are no wheelchair ramps available to help the person access venues. Similarly, autistics and ADHD-ers may only be disabled without accommodations for differences in movement, socialisation, focus, and sensory needs (e.g., bean bags, fidgets, sensory toys, low-sensory withdrawal room, direct and explicit communication style used by those around them offering support). The social model is a change from the medical model, which postulates that the disability lies purely in the individual, rather than in a complex interaction between an individual’s needs and way of being and their environment.

The social model is a useful way to reframe the way we look at disability, although it is important to not disregard other models. With all types of neurodivergence we see varying support needs, as well as varying impact of neurological and psychological differences on daily life. Some neurodivergent people really struggle regardless of how many supports and accommodations we put in place (e.g., inability to speak even using Augmentative and Alternative Communication [AAC], inability to attend events even with sensory accommodations as the noise and crowds remain too overwhelming).

It is important to listen to the voices of those with lived experience and, like with the person-first versus identity-first language debate, it is important to respect how a person views themself. If a person does not view themself as disabled or as having a disability, then it is important to respect that. Some neurodivergent people manage just fine without (much) need for support and consider their difference a neurotype or brain-type rather than a disability. Some might also not be ready to view themself as being disabled or having a disability due to internalised ableism (the internalised view that people who are able to participate in society in full are better than those who need help or support).

Community

Since the advance of the internet, it has become much easier for neurodivergent people to find communities and build their own subcultures. This has been healing for a lot of us (‘proudly autistic’ has a much nicer ring to it than ‘socially awkward otaku’, surprisingly). It has also become much easier for neurodivergent people to map their own history across human nature. While we did not have labels like autism, bipolar, schizophrenia, or ADHD in the past, these variations of being human have always existed. There’s always been people who isolated by choice and focused on areas of passionate interest, people with periods of melancholy and elation, people with unusual perceptual experiences, and people with busy brains who move from topic to topic and wear their heart on their sleeves.

With the internet, we can now easily share information about our histories and about how we manage life with our neurodivergences. We can find community and reduce isolation, especially as it is easier for people of the same neurotypes to communicate (autistics are much less likely to misunderstand each other, with miscommunication more frequently occurring in cross-neurotype communication, such as between an autistic and an allistic [non-autistic] person). This does not mean that everyone of the same neurotype will automatically like each other or get along, but it does mean that it is usually a lot easier to be authentically yourself within an in-group (just like in the LGBTQIA+ community).

As communities grow, perspectives and language continuously evolve, and we learn more about how neuronormative societal standards harm all of us (including neurotypical people), as the demands of modern society lead more and more of us to burn-out. We can’t juggle the demands of work and life, divide our attention across our friends and family, struggle with the cost of living, consume daily news stories of genocide, war, and famine, and still expect all of us to function happily, be ‘on’ all the time, and to remain ‘agile and flexible team-players’. Learning more about neurodiversity and learning with and from neurodivergent people will ultimately help create more inclusive societies that benefit all.

“Nothing about us without us.”

For further resources around neurodiversity, I’d recommend the following:

·        Neuroqueer Heresies by Dr Nick Walker

·        We’re All Neurodiverse by Sonny Jane Wise

·        Unmasking Autism by Dr Devon Price

·        The Neurodivergent Woman podcast