🌈 Understanding neurodiversity

Judy Singer, an autistic sociologist, gave birth to the concept of neurodiversity in the 1990s. The idea: acknowledging that cognitive diversity is part of human diversity, just like social, cultural, or even biological diversity. Initially focused on autism, it later expanded to include other conditions and, eventually, other mental disorders. Today, this movement has had a strong impact on the autistic community and on public perception of autism, but it is also subject to controversy.

A brief side note is needed: although the term appears modern, some argue that the first person to outline its foundations was none other than Hans Asperger—whose work is now widely criticized, particularly due to his involvement with Nazism. End of side note.

The origin of neurodiversity

The idea of neurodiversity is rooted in many people within or connected to the community. Judy Singer is the figure most often cited—herself autistic and surrounded by relatives on the spectrum—because she is believed to have used the word neurodiversity for the first time in her thesis in 1998. An article in The Guardian retraces the political journey behind the concept. The initial goal: move away from a strictly medical and deficit-focused view of autism and, more broadly, of other neurological variations associated with diagnoses such as ADHD, dys conditions, etc.

When we talk about a deficit-based model, we refer directly to how autism was described in the DSM-III-R at the time (published in 1987)—a framing that hasn’t fundamentally changed in the most recent edition, the DSM-5. The DSM-III-R described autism in terms of impairments and maladaptive behaviors. The DSM-5 explicitly refers to deficits (we don’t talk enough about the radicalization of medical language).

The idea of cognitive differences

The concept of neurodiversity emerged from a desire to revisit these definitions: instead of speaking of deficits, we should speak of differences. Some studies even suggest that the supposedly “impaired” communication of autistic people disappears when they interact with one another. A paper from the University of Nottingham explored this phenomenon. Communication breakdowns may instead be attributed to the meeting of two differently wired brains.

Judy Singer’s core argument rests on this: neurological differences (autism, ADHD, dys conditions in particular) are natural forms of human diversity, not merely pathologies. She advocates for a more positive perspective than the purely medical model that has historically dominated.

A concept that became a movement

The concept quickly spread within the autistic community through online discussion forums before reaching the scientific sphere, where it began to be studied and discussed in psychology and even disability studies. Neurodiversity eventually became a movement involving activists — whether they are directly concerned, part of the community, or even healthcare professionals — much like feminism or the fight for LGBT+ rights.

A text from ScholarWorks at UMass Boston explores this idea and even includes Down syndrome within the discussion. Neurodiversity promotes acceptance, inclusion, and the valuing of cognitive differences. Today, the movement exists in three dimensions: political, social, and scientific.

The strengths of the movement

A better recognition of diagnoses

The movement led to a major increase in diagnoses. Many people on the spectrum recognized themselves in what it promotes. In a context where diagnostic criteria were once very strict, and were progressively broadened, more and more autistic people became eligible for assessment and diagnosis. Neurodiversity also aims to reduce the stigma surrounding autism, which partly explains the rise in diagnoses.

Identity impact

Neurodiversity also strongly influenced how neurodivergent individuals perceive themselves. It became an identity. Many autistic people (as well as people with ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, etc.) resonate with the terminology that emerged from it. They now define themselves as neurodivergent. This shift created a sense of belonging, evident in online communities, forums, and blogs—spaces where many found connection rather than the isolation they face in everyday life.

I’ve observed the use of the word difference rather than deficit more and more—and I use it myself when referring to my autism, and to autism as a whole.

A paradigm shift

The way neurodivergent people are viewed has naturally shifted. Instead of being seen as “broken” individuals to fix, they gradually came to be viewed as simply different. That was Judy Singer’s intention from the start. Yet many articles about autism still refer to it as a “disease”—sometimes even within medical institutions (including some of the hospitals where I was admitted). Things are changing… slowly. At the same time, the neurodiversity movement reduces the guilt placed on autistic people and their families.

I once read a testimony from a mother whose child asked, “Why do they say I have a disorder? I feel fine.”—referring to the name autism spectrum disorder. I smiled.

Impact on research

Neurodiversity also helped give autistic people a voice. Over recent years, studies referencing autistic testimony have increased. A significant part of what we now understand about autism comes from these voices finally being included. This pushes research to highlight lived experience rather than rely solely on a purely medical lens.

More concretely, neurodiversity encouraged research models where autistic people participate directly in designing and interpreting studies (including some I have cited—or will cite—in future articles). Once again, we see a shift: research is no longer focused on “fixing” autism. Its aim now is to understand how to create supportive environments.

Research also explores how different therapies can help autistic individuals. CBT (cognitive-behavioral therapy) is particularly studied. And most importantly: psychoanalysis, often experienced as harmful in the context of autism, is being abandoned in many places.

I experienced it firsthand: I left every session with new anxieties… until I was eventually labeled “socially inadequate.” I stopped therapy. (Ironically, that was something I already knew long before she said it—nice try.) CBT is now one of the most studied therapeutic models in autism research. France, however, remains behind.

A human rights approach

Neurodiversity promotes a human-rights-based approach to disability. It sits in the direct lineage of civil rights movements, similar to feminist and LGBTQ+ advocacy, and more recently to gender rights activism. This makes it a powerful framework for reframing neurological differences and defending rights that are often neglected, suppressed, or moralized.

Inclusivity

Particularly in the United States and other English-speaking countries, neurodiversity has sparked undeniable changes in inclusion—both in schools and at work. Some companies have developed explicit recruitment and support programs for autistic people, sometimes even prioritizing them. In a world where a job interview can be a minefield, this matters: interviews often demand high levels of spontaneous social interaction—the exact area where many autistic people face the greatest difficulty. Several major U.S. companies now run dedicated hiring programs for neurodivergent applicants.

France, however, remains behind. A small personal anecdote: aware I was at risk of failing a job interview, I reminded an HR representative that I had official disability recognition (RQTH in France). She replied that she would not mention it to keep all candidates “on equal footing.” The problem is—if you want to put me on equal footing, you have to mention the RQTH. Or even name the condition—because it is specifically what makes the interview format disabling for me.

The result: failed interview, as expected.

A growing cultural representation

Since the rise of the movement, representation of neurodevelopmental conditions in film and television has significantly increased. While these portrayals are sometimes stereotyped and remain a point of debate within the community, the effort to create characters reflecting the reality of these conditions is meaningful. For many autistic people—or those with ADHD, dys conditions, etc.—these portrayals offer recognition, identification, and visibility. Some examples include:

• Implicit representation:
  • The Big Bang Theory (the most famous case—Sheldon’s autism is never officially stated)
  • Community by Dan Harmon (Abed, unofficially autistic, helped the creator recognize his own autism)
• Explicit representation:
  • Atypical (Netflix)
  • The Good Doctor, centered on an autistic surgeon
  • Différente, a French film released in 2025 portraying an autistic woman

The movement has also inspired numerous books written by neurodivergent authors—either autobiographical or activist in nature. Examples include NeuroTribes by Steve Silberman, and Thinking in Pictures by Temple Grandin—which I strongly recommend.

It is a movement with tremendous strengths and a profound impact on the world of neurodevelopmental conditions, but it also comes with controversy.

A controversial movement

If I am clearly in favor of the movement, I still see some weaknesses in it. At times, I even find myself feeling rather conflicted.

The invisibilization of difficulties

The entire movement is built on acceptance and valuing differences. Many people—both in the medical field and among families of autistic people, especially those with intellectual disability—fear that this approach minimizes the pathological dimension.

I partially agree with this concern: autism is often portrayed through a very (sometimes excessively) positive lens. To the point where the movement may create an image that overlooks the real, daily difficulties millions of autistic people face. And considering autism as my most disabling condition—because it never leaves—I include myself in that. The emphasis on strengths can idealize the condition, a narrative often reinforced in the media. This ideal does not reflect the day-to-day challenges of those living with autism.

A concept driven by those who adapt more easily

Without denying their struggles (which are certainly real in the strictest sense), the movement is often led by individuals who seem to function relatively well in society (sometimes at a very high energetic cost)… or by people not directly affected by the conditions they defend. Those with the most visible and severe challenges are rarely represented. Some argue, again, that autism is a real and often heavy disability, and that minimizing it through a positive movement can be harmful. Many testimonies describe struggles so significant that they reject the idea of autism-related strengths altogether (strengths which the neurodiversity movement promotes).

Profiles with intellectual disability

These are often represented by their families, who criticize the movement for failing to represent them and the realities they live with. They mention dependence, medical care, self-injurious behaviors (and they are not the only ones—waving with my own hands marked by my skull hitting walls during meltdowns). They share struggles that affect not only the autistic person, but everyone around them.

An article from PMC also emphasizes the need for support, varying widely from person to person, which can be extremely high in certain autistic individuals. Those who resonate most with the neurodiversity movement are often verbal, independent, and sometimes gifted.

When illness enters the conversation

In recent years, the movement has broadened to include any form of cognitive difference. Some have suggested incorporating mental illnesses such as bipolar disorder or schizophrenia. In this expanded, and highly debated, version, the movement would also promote valuing these conditions. Unfortunately, these illnesses often impose terrifying daily realities on those who live with them.

It is important to remember that some conditions are above all disabilities, sometimes severe ones. They are not merely differences but sources of profound suffering. As someone who lives with bipolar disorder, I disconnect from this idea. How could I speak of it simply as a “difference” when this illness regularly tears me apart? I cannot imagine glorifying or identifying with a movement that attempts to reframe such a condition positively, when it destroys lives every day—though, apparently, “to each their own.”

It should be noted that this extension is contested and was never Judy Singer’s original vision, nor that of many people who carry the movement today. This debate has created a divide within the movement itself: those who want to include everything, and those who believe it should remain specific to neurodevelopmental conditions.

My view on the matter

To remain fully fair, I chose to explore both sides of neurodiversity: what it has contributed, the revolution it represents, and the criticisms it receives. The goal is not to reject the movement, but to acknowledge that it may need redefining so it can represent the entire autistic community—supporting it without erasing the real challenges that any autistic person may face, regardless of their (apparent) level of functioning. The movement, in my view, has reached a limit: it risks obscuring the reality that autism is a disability (which is, in fact, part of its diagnostic criteria).

I believe the movement should remain a tool for recognition, not an idealization. The blog’s logo aligns with that idea: participating in the movement, even with reservations. Without neurodiversity, I would likely still see myself as a mistake. I have difficulties, I want them recognized, but I also want acceptance. Just like many autistic people.

If I point out its weaknesses, it is not to dismantle the movement, but to root it more deeply in the lived experience of all profiles. And I’ll admit: playing the devil’s advocate while writing this article was, in itself, its own kind of challenge.

Originally published in French on: 5 Oct 2025 — translated to English on: 28 Nov 2025.