This past week has been Neurodiversity Celebration Week, and I’ve found myself sitting with a few thoughts. I get the hesitation some people have with these kinds of weeks — that feeling that it might come across as tokenistic. And, honestly, for some organisations or workplaces, yeah… maybe it is..
Thinking back to when I first started working in disability services, around 20 years ago, it’s striking how much has changed. At that time, I was studying psychology and had never heard the term neurodiversity. I didn’t know the word neurodivergent either. Maybe they existed somewhere, but they weren’t part of the language I was using or the training I received.
Most of the work I was doing back then, especially around autism, focused on behaviour change. It was all about encouraging people to fit into a neurotypical world (I didn’t know that back then I can only reflect on it now). That was the model. It was clinical, structured and often centred around conformity. I didn’t know any different, and I followed the guidance I was given.
The individuals I supported often had multiple diagnoses, and language like “low functioning” was common. It’s not something I’d use now, but it was everywhere then. As the years went on, the language began to shift, and I’d like to think I shifted with it.
There’s a quote that comes to mind often —
“Once we know better, we do better” – Maya Angelou
It’s a simple reminder that learning is ongoing. Over the last few years especially, I’ve spent time digging into professional development, reading and listening to the lived experiences of people who are neurodivergent or who support neurodivergent family members. That kind of learning has been far more meaningful than any traditional training.
It’s helped me recognise where I might still hold assumptions that need unpacking. It’s also reminded me that learning can be uncomfortable. In clinical supervision, this comes up a lot, how do we sit with the discomfort of getting it wrong? Because we will. Language changes. Understanding shifts. Something said with the best intentions might still miss the mark, and the challenge is to remain open and willing to course correct.
It’s not the responsibility of people from marginalised communities to educate everyone around them. If they choose to share, it’s helpful, but it shouldn’t be expected. The responsibility sits with us to seek out understanding, to reflect and to continue doing the work.
One thing that becomes clear the longer you do this work is how unique every individual and every family is. There’s no universal experience of neurodivergence. One person might find a TV character deeply offensive, while another might connect with the exact same show and find joy in it. It’s not about agreeing on a single perspective. It’s about being curious, asking questions and adapting the way we support different people.
There’s no final point of competency. This is ongoing. It’s about sitting in dialogue, learning from feedback and staying open to evolving ideas. No two people are the same, and no two approaches should be either.
As therapists, we’re often well-practised in reflective work and supervision, but that doesn’t mean we’re exempt from getting things wrong. And it doesn’t mean we stop learning. Language changes. Systems change. Our understanding grows, and so should we.
There’s no harm in being more inclusive, more thoughtful or more willing to understand the experiences of others. If your values sit anywhere near care, integrity or compassion, then the question becomes. Why wouldn’t you keep learning?
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