Why the World Needs to Understand Neurodiversity
Earlier this week, I saw posts going around on social media about a teenager who had gone missing. I immediately recognised him as a student I worked with several years ago. The posts said he had been missing for 72 hours. They showed a photo of him and listed a number to call if he was found. My reaction to the news was probably to be expected for someone who had just heard about a missing child, except the intensity of my emotions were heightened: first, because it was a young person I knew and, second, because I knew the difficulties he’d experienced in trying to manage his neurodivergent brain and how vulnerable he could be when faced with danger.
Before I go any further, I should note that the young person was found and returned home the day after I saw the social media posts. He was physically safe, although I can’t comment on the state of his emotional wellbeing. Even after this, I couldn’t help but worry - not only about him, but about all the other neurodivergent young people who, at some point or another, may need to depend on a complete stranger on the street to help them or ensure their safety.
There was no mention in the posters that the teenager I knew was neurodivergent or that he had been struggling with his mental health. While he was missing, I panicked, thinking about what could go wrong if he was found by someone who didn’t understand how to communicate with him. I thought back to all the mental health training I’ve had over the years and realised that I couldn’t recall one occasion when a term like neurodivergent, autism, ADHD or non-speaking was even mentioned. Similarly, for physical injuries, unless you take a more advanced first aid course, there’s very little (if any) training on how to help someone with any kind of disability. Yet, as long as a person is conscious, the way you communicate with them in a moment of crisis is vital to how they’re able to respond to your assistance. It’s hard to believe that disabled people might only receive appropriate emergency treatment if they happen to be found by one of a very small minority of people who paid for the optional add-on of a disability training module.
In reality, there’s no way that everything can be included in any training course. Just think about how people of difference races and ethnicities can present with different physical symptoms. We might have been taught that someone’s face goes blue if they’re not breathing, but that doesn’t apply to everyone in the same way. To consider every individual or minority group in any one-day training event is unrealistic, but that doesn’t mean we should be exempt from considering them at all. If people had a better understanding of disability and neurodiversity in general then the need for these training ‘add-ons’ might not be so essential. If you can recognise that the person in front of you may experience the world in a different way, and that their communication style may be different, there’s more chance they’ll be able to access help in a crisis, even if your training didn’t cover their exact neurodivergent profile.
Beyond crisis management, there are so many scenarios in everyday life where an understanding of neurodiversity can make a difference. How often do parents feel judged because their child is having a meltdown in a public space? How well can a victim of crime cope with the harsh lighting and lack of visual support in a police station interview room? It’s highly unlikely that it will reduce feelings of anxiety and overwhelm... Whether you’re going to a gym, restaurant, play centre or simply walking down the street, knowing that people around you have a general awareness of why you or your child might be struggling, showing understanding instead of judgement, could massively reduce the pressure and make everyday life just a bit more manageable.
With a need for the world to understand neurodiversity, what can we do to make it happen? It’s not possible to change everything at once, but it is possible to take meaningful steps in the right direction. Here are just a few things that could have a positive impact:
Include teaching about neurodiversity in every school’s PSHCE curriculum - we talk about culture, faith and ethnicity so we should be talking about brains and thinking processes too.
Ensure all emergency services and first responders are trained on how to respond to neurodivergent individuals in a crisis.
Include training on neurodiversity for everyone entering a caring profession, including teachers and medical staff, so that all children have access to education and healthcare that will protect them from additional vulnerabilities.
Talk about neurodiversity positively so that we can reduce stigma and help parents know that it’s ok to say their child has autism, ADHD or any other neurodivergent conditions if the information will help to protect them.
Include questions about neurodiversity on questionnaires - if information about religion or ethnicity is relevant, then so is a person’s neurotype.
Ensure at least one member of staff on shift in every public or community space, including gyms, restaurants, museums, shops, banks and religious centres are adequately trained or skilled to assist people who are neurodivergent.
Making meaningful change starts with understanding why this topic is so important. Neurodiversity inclusion isn’t just about adjustments in school and in the workplace. It’s about quality of life across all aspects of life. Sometimes, it’s also bigger than being an issue of social justice and equal opportunities. It’s about safety and, in some cases, it really can be about life or death.