Everybody is weird. Some of us just get a fancy label for it. I use the word neurodivergent because it’s a human, respectful way to describe how people’s brains vary - without pretending everyone’s brain works the same way or that there’s only one “right” way to think.
“Neurodivergent” and "Neurodiverse" as terms were both coined by Kassiane Asasumasu, a disability activist who wanted language that reflects real human diversity instead of medical deficit thinking.
Nick Walker, another foundational voice in the neurodiversity movement, explains neurodiversity as the simple fact that “neurological variation is a natural and valuable form of human diversity.”
Walker’s blog is a great resource on this and many other subjects.
Medical language tends to frame people as disordered, deficient, or impaired. That might make sense on a chart, but it’s not how I talk about humans.
A large body of research (such as Patrick Dwyer's 2022 piece for Human Development) supports the social model of disability, which argues that many challenges come from environments, systems, and expectations - not from something “wrong” inside the person.
This aligns with the broader work of thinkers like Orlando Fals Borda, who emphasized that communities should own their narratives rather than being defined by outside authorities. The same idea applies here: neurodivergent people should define our own identities, not have our identities dictated to us.
For me, the term means someone whose brain works differently from whatever society currently considers “typical.” That’s it.
It doesn’t mean broken, lesser, or in need of fixing.
It does mean your brain does things in its own way - sometimes helpful, sometimes challenging, always valid.
The Cleveland Clinic puts it simply:
“Neurodivergent isn’t a medical diagnosis. It just describes the fact that people’s brains work differently.”
I use “neurodivergent” because:
It’s strength-based rather than deficit-based.
It acknowledges that environments, not people, are often the barrier.
It recognizes identity and lived experience.
It fits with evidence-based practices around inclusion, self-determination, and universal design.
It gives people permission to exist as themselves, not as a “lesser” version of someone else’s norm.
This is especially important in my work with young adults transitioning toward independence. Many of their strengths show up only when the environment stops fighting them.
Kassiane Asasumasu pushed for language that belongs to the people who live the experience.
Nick Walker reframed neurodiversity as a fact of life rather than a diagnosis.
Orlando Fals Borda argued for community ownership of identity and narrative.
All of these ideas point to the same conclusion:
People own themselves.
Labels don’t own people.
And the world should expand to fit the humans in it, not the other way around.