University of Brighton fine Art (Painting) submission

A linguistic tweak or a sign of social change?

This is another slightly longer article, as it’s a bit of insightful analysis.

I have spent since 2008 observing and predicting future trends (because The Autism makes me GREAT at this kind of thing). Over the last year, a trend that has been bubbling away in my subconscious is a shift in social discourse from people describing themselves as ‘diagnosed’ to ‘identifying’ as (having) a neurodiversity.

Let me explain what’s going on:

1. First things first: neurodiversity requires a doctor’s note to be taken seriously. At present, neurodiversity joins mental health, some physical disabilities, and gender identity as one of the few communities that requires a doctor’s note to be protected by the Equality Act or be accepted as ‘real’ by others. Imagine a pregnant person – or even their partner – having to show an ultrasound to their employer to qualify for parental leave, or to their friends to be believed. Madness, right? But if your difference is invisible, then suddenly your view of your own needs matters less than the view of a medical professional.

2. Covid, work and children accelerated our awareness of neurodiversity. Covid drove up mental health issues, but reduced stigma around talking about them. Within this broader trend was the increasing awareness of neurodiversity. During the lockdowns, the change in working environment highlighted to a lot of people that the pre-covid working model never suited them in the first place. There were also children who seriously struggled or thrived not going to school during Covid, leading them – and then their parents – to seek a diagnosis.

3. The language shift is in part down to lack of access to healthcare. The NHS saw a 226% increase in referrals for neurodiversity diagnoses between 2017 and 2022. However, the struggles the institution faces today means people are waiting up to seven years to be seen. Further, private healthcare companies tend not to cover neurodiversity diagnoses (with a few notable exceptions, like Axa) and many can’t afford the high cost of a diagnosis and subsequent support. As people can’t ‘prove’ they’re neurodiverse, we’re seeing a trend towards discussing how people recognise traits in themselves, i.e. how they ‘identify’ as neurodiverse.

4. It’s the future because young people are talking about it. 50% of Generation Z self-identify as neurodiverse. Does this make it a fad? No. I learnt early in my career that whatever kids are talking about today, everyone else will fret over or dismiss at the time, but will take for granted a few years later. Take the moral panic about being gay in the 80s (or being trans today). Or social media being a ‘fad’ in the ‘00s. Some Gen Z neurodiverse talk might, of course, be about fitting in, but this generation’s prioritising the exploration of one’s neuro-variance heralds a new era of self-awareness.

5. ‘Identifying’ will be normalised to the point of being taken seriously. Neurodiverse influencers, writers and speakers have done a lot to normalise neurodiversity, from educating about traits to highlighting the healthcare struggle. Combined with the post-covid decline of mental health stigma, people who identify as neurodiverse are more openly demanding support from those around them. Over the next year I suspect institutions will start developing processes and structures, such as offices, that are neurodiverse-friendly as standard, not requiring people to have that doctor’s note.

‘Diagnosed’ to ‘Identify’ seems like a tiny linguistic tweak, but it’s a sign of a deeper cultural shift. Language shapes reality and the less pathologising and more affirming language we use to describe the neurodiverse experience, the more normalised and acceptable our identities become. Social change is a slow-moving tanker, but in regards to neurodiversity acceptance, we’re getting there.