Neurodiversity Celebration Week: Personal Reflections & Recruitment Suggestions

Neurodiversity Celebration Week spans March 18^th - March 24^th this year- a week established in appreciation for the diversity of human cognition and neurological abilities. Neurodiversity remains a taboo across much of the world, in spite of advancing research demonstrating the wealth and varied array of skills found within neurodiversity. As LGBT Great’s Insights & Content Analyst, our blog for this important week will be written from my personal perspective- as someone diagnosed in adulthood with dyslexia. My experiences, which defy the stereotype of dyslexia presentation, have informed my perspectives on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. For this Neurodiversity Celebration Week, I wish to share the story of my own diagnosis- and what navigating a world built around neurotypicality has taught me about resolve, resilience and self-advocacy. I also hope to share a little on what neurodiverse inclusion in the workplace can and should look like.

My journey to having my neurodiversity recognised was long and arduous. I was a “bright” student- my teachers were often very pleased with my contributions in class, even if they lamented how little I transferred this to written assessments. If you looked at my grades you might have considered them unremarkable, in the sense that nothing seemed ‘wrong’. In class, I was highly engaged. On paper, I was still an above-average student. But what was reported in parent-teachers’ meetings and on grade cards was the tip of the iceberg; and this was why I went so long without a diagnosis. Little moments- like getting upset when my mother berated me for taking “too long” to read an analogue clock- could have been innocuous, if they had not eventually betrayed a pattern.

I did well enough to get into university and it was only once I reached higher education at 18 that a suggestion was made by a lecturer to be assessed for a learning disability. This was a word that felt so charged- in 2013, disability was still considered such a dirty word. Nevertheless, I persisted- led in part by my curiosity, given that I was studying Psychology and was fascinated by understanding the inner workings of the mind.

It was at 18, after 14 years of formal education, that I was diagnosed with dyslexia.

  The parallels between LGBTQ+ prejudice and the experiences of neurodiverse  people are stark.  

My spelling was almost immaculate. I was highly literate and naturally verbose. But my assessment by a brilliant Educational Psychologist exposed the challenges I faced- in short term recall, in verbal information retention, even in auditory information processing. Dyslexia, he explained to me, is a spectrum and not a check-list. He went on to explain that, because it is a learning disability, people assume that it is an intellectual disability. My dyslexia did not make me any less intelligent, any less capable as a person. However, because I still ranked above average in the skills my dyslexia did affect, I was never flagged by teachers. The hard truth was that nobody had ever assumed I was struggling. If I had been, someone would have likely noticed sooner.

My neurodiversity had been, quite frankly, invisible. Invisible to my teachers, my family, my friends. I had spent years of my life being led to believe that what I was contending with was my fault, often by people close to me. These feelings of personal responsibility are not unique- feelings of guilt and embarrassment have been found to be associated with the lived experience of dyslexic individuals (Lockiewicz, Bogdanowicz, & Bogdanowicz, 2014) and these adverse social experiences lead to higher rates of depression and anxiety amongst dyslexic individuals(Nelson & Gregg, 2012). Many of the challenges dyslexic (and other neurodiverse people) face are not born from our differences; more from how we are shamed and derided for them.

The parallels between LGBTQ+ prejudice and the experiences of neurodiverse people are stark. As someone has experienced both, I recognise how, for my gender and sexuality and neurodiversity, I have been made to feel deficient, dysfunctional, burdensome on society, melodramatic in protesting my mistreatment and an unworthy member of society. Behind all of this is an ongoing battle, asking people to recognise that everyone is simply built differently- and I wouldn’t trade any facet of my identity out for the sake of assimilation.

My dyslexia diagnosis has given me a lot to be thankful for- the ability to forgive my childhood self, for a start. It has also given me the ability to lean into my strengths- since dyslexia is very often a redistribution of one’s skills instead of a blanket skill deficit. My digit recall is remarkable- my ability to retain numerical information in my head is very high. When starting a job a few years ago teaching Data & Coding, my (also dyslexic) manager remarked that, in her experience, many dyslexics have a natural propensity towards that domain of work.

  The way we test for aptitude for a vacancy has to reflect the reality of that role  

Like many neurodiverse and/or disabled individuals, I am also a brilliant problem-solver. I have spent my life as a neurodiverse person navigating a neurotypical world; carving my own path is in my nature. I am not as easily dissuaded by systems which aren’t built for me. But it cannot be understated how beneficial it has been to be on the receiving end of assistive technologies (yes, being able to work on a computer counts as using assistive tech) and immense support. I now thrive with the support of a manager who acknowledges my need to carve out my own time for the cognitive demands of my work, who understands that it is better for me to listen in a meeting than try and take notes, who values and utilises my strengths. Naturally, this is what a good manager should do, given Harvard Business Review’s recent description of neurodiversity in the workplace as a “competitive advantage”. But the tides are still turning in the direction of neurodiversity acceptance, and there is much that must still change on individual and structural levels of businesses.

So where do businesses begin to implement neurodiversity inclusion in the workplace? There is no simple, cookie-cutter approach for every organisation- but recruiting practices are a place to start. A 2022 article on neurodiversity by Forbes magazine outlined how screening tools such as psychometric tests disproportionately eliminate neurodiverse workers from the recruitment pool. Psychometric tests are conducted in environments which do not reflect the reality of one’s usual workspace and daily task load, thus testing employees for skills such as reading comprehension or memory recall which they would usually do in a less-time pressured environment with assistive technologies and programmes. The way we test for aptitude for a vacancy has to reflect the reality of that role- not one’s performance in a fabricated work scenario. This is perhaps fundamental to how we approach neurodiversity in general; how do we ensure someone can bring their whole selves to a role, instead of pushing to align themselves with an abstract, unrealistic idea of the ‘perfect employee’ (which even neurotypical people can’t align themselves to)? It starts with recognising the full picture of neurodiversity- not just the limitations, but the assets, the spectrum of neurodiverse skill. 

This Neurodiversity Celebration Week I am celebrating the skills I bring to my work because of, not in spite of, my neurodiversity. Neurodiverse people navigate a world built predominantly by and for neurotypical people- and even on an unlevel playing field, many of us excel. When that playing field is levelled, some of us are brilliant. If you are reading this as a neurotypical person, I ask you to take one thing away from this week- and that is a question about what the playing field of your workplace looks like- and what you can do as an ally to ensure your neurodiverse colleagues thrive. 

— Georgie Williams (they/them) is a Insights and Content Analyst at LGBT Great.