The True Nature Of Neurodiversity
Escaping The Corporate Dilution Of Neurodivergent Existence
The term neurodiversity has, in recent years, become a popular part of public and academic discourse. It is invoked by schools, workplaces, charities, and government policies that seek to demonstrate inclusivity.
Yet, despite this visibility, the true scope of neurodiversity is often misunderstood, flattened, or commodified. Too often, it is reduced to a polite synonym for autism and ADHD, or to a corporate DEI initiative, stripped of its political and philosophical meaning.
In my work, I have argued that neurodivergence is not a diagnostic category, nor a limited umbrella of specific conditions, but a fundamental feature of human existence. It is not a label that some people qualify for while others do not.Rather, it is a recognition that all human minds are different, and that some of these differences departure from neuronormativity. However, they are not deviations from “normal”, but part of the very fabric of humanity.
To truly understand neurodiversity, we must dismantle the neuronormative assumptions that limit it, and reframe it as a way of understanding the world, the diversity of human cognition, and the power structures that shape our lives.
Beyond the Diagnostic Box
Mainstream discourse often equates neurodiversity with autism and ADHD. These identities are important parts of the neurodiversity movement, but to reduce the concept to them is to miss its radical core. Autism and ADHD have become the public face of neurodiversity largely because they are conditions that medicine has long pathologised, while they have also produced enough advocacy and visibility to demand social identity.
But neurodiversity is not a list of conditions, nor can one be “neurodiverse”, neurodiversity is a value of plurality, and not one of individuality. Neurodiversity encompasses every form of neurocognitive style, from psychosis and dissociation, to intellectual disability, to addiction, to mood variance, to personality differences, to the vast unclassified nuances of how humans think, feel, and experience the world.
Even those who would be called “neurotypical” still fall within neurodiversity, because their ways of being are part of the spectrum of human minds. In simple terms, there are as many neurocognitive styles as there are humans.
The term neurodivergence, then, is not about who qualifies for inclusion. It is about who is marginalised by a society built on neuronormativity; the assumption that there is one right way for a mind to be. Neurodivergence names the resistance to that assumption, the refusal to be reshaped into normative forms. For some that refusal is deliberately, for others it is more of an innate quality.
The Political Roots of Neurodiversity
To speak of neurodiversity without acknowledging its political roots is to sanitise it. The concept arose from the work of Autistic activists, but it was never meant to be a gentle diversity initiative. It was a radical assertion: that neurological differences are not pathologies to be cured, but natural variations to be respected. The neurodoversity movement is, to this day, an act of defiance against the pathologisation of neurological queerness.
One could extend this further by highlighting the role of power in shaping how neurodivergence is lived. Psychiatric systems, education systems, and carceral systems do not simply “care” for neurodivergent people, they exert power over us, often violently. They impose categories, dictate treatments, and enforce conformity.
To be neurodivergent is not just to have a different brain, but to live under structures that marginalise, surveil, and attempt to normalise those differences.
This is why neurodiversity must be understood as a political category as much as a paradigmatic one. It marks a site of mismatched salience, between the demand for conformity and the assertion of multiplicity, between the dominance of neuronormativity and the flourishing of divergent ways of being. It is the flag we raise on a mind that has become a site of political struggle.
Psychosis, Addiction, and the Forgotten Faces of Neurodiversity
Much of my work has focused on those experiences often excluded from neurodiversity discourse, particularly psychosis and addiction. Both are heavily stigmatised, both pathologised as disorders to be eliminated, and both frequently left out of neurodiversity conversations.
Psychosis, for example, is almost always framed through the lens of illness. Yet in my writing I have argued for understanding psychosis as transformation, as an altered state of being that can hold meaning and even possibility.
To collapse it into disorder is to erase its richness and to silence those who live it. Psychosis belongs within neurodiversity not because it is a diagnosis, but because it is a way of experiencing the world that defies neuronormative expectations.
Similarly, addiction is treated as a moral failing or a disease. My lived experience has shown me that addiction is not reducible to either narrative. It is a way of surviving in a hostile world, a means of regulating unbearable states, a response to trauma and exclusion. Addiction too belongs in the neurodiversity paradigm, because it is a way of being shaped both by neurology and by the violent contexts that restrict how we may live.
The exclusion of such experiences from discussions of neurodiversity serves to sterilise the discourse. The neurodiversity paradigm does not demand positivity, it acknowledges neutrality. Not all neurodivergence is comfortable, and to demand otherwise is to fail to achieve the aims of the neurodiversity movement itself.
By reclaiming psychosis and addiction as neurodivergent experiences, we widen the scope of neurodiversity to reflect the full spectrum of human life, not just the conditions that are palatable enough for corporate diversity campaigns.
Monotropism and the Flow of Divergent Minds
One of the most transformative Autistic theories to emerge in the last few decades is monotropism, the idea that Autistic minds allocate attention in intense, narrow channels rather than spreading it broadly. We can quite easily extend this concept beyond autism to suggest that all minds have patterns of attention, focus, and flow, and that these differences shape how we interact with the world. Monotropism may have been asserted as a theory of Autistic experience, but it may apply to so many more neurocognitive styles.
For Autistic people, monotropism explains both our passions and our vulnerabilities. It shows why transitions can be difficult, why deep interests become lifelines, and why environments designed for rapid shifting attention can be traumatic. But it also demonstrates that neurodiversity is not just about categories like autism or ADHD. It is about the fundamental ways that different minds allocate energy, attention, and meaning.
Monotropism teaches us that neurodiversity is not an abstract slogan but a lived reality. It reveals the mechanics of divergent experience, and it shows why systems built for normative attentional styles so often fail us.
The Chaotic Self: Flux, Growth, and Becoming
A concept I have developed in my own work is the Chaotic Self. Where psychiatry tends to treat the self as a fixed and measurable entity, the Chaotic Self recognises that we are always in flux, transformed by every interaction, sensation, and experience.
For neurodivergent people, this is especially salient. We are constantly being reshaped by environments that poorly shape to us, by the trauma of exclusion, by the joy of connection, by the constant negotiation of identity in a world that tells us we are broken. To understand the Chaotic Self is to understand that neurodivergence is not static. It is not a label applied once and for all, but a living, shifting way of being that evolves through time.
This understanding resists the pathologisation of change. Where psychiatry may label fluctuation as instability, the Chaotic Self reframes it as natural transformation. It insists that neurodiversity must account for becoming, not just being.
The Chaotic Self reframes instability as a natural process of change and evolution that all Selves experience in life. It centres volatility not as danger, but as the dynamic nature of human existence.
Reclaiming the Full Scope
The true scope of neurodiversity, then, is vast. It is not a diagnostic shorthand. It is not a tidy corporate policy. It is the recognition that human minds exist in infinite variety, and that this variety is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be lived with dignity and relative comfort.
To reclaim neurodiversity, we must resist its dilution. We must insist that it includes psychosis, addiction, intellectual disability, dissociation, trauma, and all the chaotic realities of human cognition. We must understand it as political, as relational, as intersectional. We must hold onto its radical roots and refuse its reduction to a buzzword.
Neurodiversity is the story of what it means to be human. To embrace its true scope is to embrace ourselves in all our flux, our intensity, our pain, and our joy. It is to build a world where every mind has the right to exist as it is, not in spite of its divergence, but because of it.