Neurodivergence and Ethnic Minority Voices
A Curated Resource Pack for Staff
Authored by the DPT Neurodivergent and Ethnic Minorities Staff Networks
Foreword
Neurodivergence does not exist in isolation from culture, race, language, or lived experience. For many people from ethnic minority backgrounds, exploring neurodivergence can feel complex — shaped by cultural expectations, stigma, masking, code-switching, and systemic barriers to diagnosis and support.
This resource pack has been created by the DPT Neurodivergent Staff Network and Ethnic Minorities Staff Network to:
Support staff from ethnic minority backgrounds who are curious about neurodivergence but may not yet feel ready to join staff networks Provide culturally relevant lived-experience voices and communities Offer reflective and academic material to deepen understanding Encourage all staff to consider intersectionality when supporting clients and colleagues
Joining the staff networks
If you are a DPT member of staff and you wish to become a member of either the Neurodivergent Staff Network and/or the Ethnic Minorities Staff Network, please email dpt-tr.equality@nhs.net If you have any questions about this information pack, have resources to recommend, want to highlight any broken links (please do) or have queries about the network then please email dpt.neurodivergent.network@nhs.net
Copyright & Attribution
This resource pack was developed collaboratively by members of the Neurodivergent Staff Network and the Ethnic Minorities Staff Network at Devon Partnership NHS Trust.
External resources included in this document remain the intellectual property of their respective authors, creators, and organisations. They are shared here for learning, reflection, and signposting purposes. This document may be shared within NHS and partner organisations for non- commercial educational use. Please acknowledge Devon Partnership NHS Trust if reproducing or adapting this material.
Version 1.0 – January 2026
Contents
Page 4
Introduction
Page 5-14
Staff stories: Lived experience in the NHS
Page 15
Peer support and online communities
Page 16
Social media and digital advocates
Page 17
Videos and talks
Page 18
Articles and personal narratives
Page 19
Academic research and policy perspectives
Page 20
Books and memoirs
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Introduction
Why intersectionality matters in practice
Neurodivergence is shaped not only by neurology but by social context. Research and lived experience show that people from ethnic minority backgrounds may experience:
Later or missed diagnosis Cultural stigma around disability Increased masking or code-switching Misinterpretation of behaviours Reduced access to support
Understanding intersectionality helps us create safer spaces for colleagues and provide more culturally responsive support to clients.
A note on inclusion and responsibility
This resource list is intended as a starting point for exploration and reflection. It is not intended to endorse all organisations, individuals, or viewpoints included.
Whilst care has been taken to identify neurodiversity-affirming and intersectionally informed content, external organisations and creators may update or change their content over time. We are not responsible for material published externally. Some resources include social media accounts or community-led spaces which may contain personal views and evolving discussions.
Not all resources will resonate with everyone. Staff are encouraged to engage critically and use what feels helpful and relevant to their own context.
The following resources are grouped by format and purpose to support different ways of learning and exploring.
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Staff stories: Lived experience in the NHS The following reflections are shared by colleagues who have generously offered their stories. They represent personal journeys at the intersection of neurodivergence, culture, ethnicity, gender and identity. Each story reflects one individual experience. They do not represent all neurodivergent or ethnic minority experiences — but they offer insight into the complexity, strength and reality of navigating these identities in professional spaces. Some colleagues have chosen to include their names. Others have chosen to remain anonymous for personal, cultural or professional reasons. If you recognise or believe you can identify an author who has chosen not to name themselves, please respect their privacy and do not share or speculate about their identity. These stories are shared in trust.
Venura - Board ambassador
My name is Venura Perera. I was born in Sri Lanka, but my early life was shaped almost entirely by Hong Kong, where I grew up before moving to a small town in Oxfordshire at eighteen. Through a rather unexpected journey of self-reflection — and, frankly, a series of bizarre circumstances — I came to self ‑ identify as both ADHD and dyslexic. For most of my life, I carried a persistent sense of feeling “wrong,” or slightly out of sync with everyone around me. It wasn’t until adulthood that I began to understand this feeling. It came partly from my neurodivergence, and partly from the ways others perceived me. Although Sri Lanka is my birthplace, I’ve never fully identified as Sri Lankan given where I grew up. This makes the seemingly simple question “So, where are you from?” surprisingly complicated to answer. Growing up, neurodiversity simply wasn’t something we spoke about — not in Hong Kong, and certainly not in my Sri Lankan family. When a teacher first noticed that I struggled with reading, it wasn’t given a name, and it definitely wasn’t accepted at home. The idea that my brain worked differently, or that I might need support, was seen as something culturally “wrong” or embarrassing. It was expected that I would go to university and study Maths or Physics; it wasn’t a choice so much as a duty.
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In truth, while I did love science, I was also drawn to philosophy and the bigger questions of life. But those interests were dismissed. Instead, I heard constant refrains like “you’re lazy,” “you’re not focused,” and “just get on with it.” Those words came from both parents and teachers, long before I had the language to understand neurodiversity. Even today, within my cultural context, the idea of having a “different” brain remains unnamed, misunderstood, and often not accepted. A recent Facebook post about my mental health recovery caused panic among extended family — a reminder that stigma still speaks louder than understanding. Carrying the label of the “black sheep” became part of my identity. I often made choices that weren’t positive for me, partly because I believed I was already failing at being who I was supposed to be. Those early labels still linger, and they’ve shaped the father I am in ways I continue to work through. I am determined not to pass those same words on to my children. My wife often describes me as a chameleon — someone who can blend into almost any situation. She’s right. That adaptability has helped me navigate spaces where I’ve never fully felt like I belonged, but it came at the cost of exhaustion and loneliness. The turning point was meeting her. She was the first person to truly see me beneath all the layers of masking. She recognised what I couldn’t yet name, and nudged me gently towards understanding myself. Thanks to her, I began to see that what I’d internalised as personal failings were actually signs of neurodiversity. That realisation allowed me to move toward acceptance — of myself and of others. I joined the Neurodiversity Network because I wanted to help others. In my role as a Non ‑ Executive Director and the Board Ambassador for the Neurodiversity Network, I’m in a unique position to speak openly, loudly, and proudly about both my neurodiversity and my cultural identity. As a brown man from a community where these conversations are still taboo, I feel a responsibility to be visible. I want to be the role model I never had, so that others who look like me feel able to step forward too. Representation matters — and elevating the conversation matters even more. Being neurodivergent and from an ethnic minority background is hard. Parents, extended family, and friends often carry cultural stigmas that make honest conversations impossible. What I’ve learned is this: be kind to yourself, be patient with yourself and others, but don’t be afraid to be honest. My hope for the future is simple — a world where none of us have to shrink, mask, or second ‑ guess ourselves just to belong. A world where we can be our honest, true selves. That is what I wish for.
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Staff story
I am a person of mixed ethnicity, non-white, and gender diverse. I live with multiple forms of neurodivergence. I will speak here about autism and Tourette’s syndrome, because these were among the most challenging aspects of my childhood, although they are not the only neurodivergent experiences I have. The combination of these identities has not weakened me. If anything, it has strengthened me. It has shaped how I see systems, how I relate to people, and how I understand power, stigma, and inclusion. However, strength does not remove the need for adjustment. There are expectations that are simply unrealistic for me. Writing reports in two hours, producing reflective notes in ten or twenty minutes, processing large volumes of verbal information at speed, these are not matters of motivation. They are neurological realities. No number of deadlines, productivity tools, or software applications can alter how my nervous system processes information. Adjustments are not indulgences. They are what make my participation possible. Neurodiversity is not an abstract concept to me. It is lived, embodied, and relational. It shapes how I move, how I think, how I communicate, and how I live. This topic matters to me because I have lived both the harm of misunderstanding and the transformation that occurs when difference is supported rather than suppressed. Cultural views on neurodiversity In the cultures and communities I have lived within, neurodivergence was rarely discussed in nuanced ways. Often it was unnamed, misunderstood, or reduced to deficit. Language for autism or Tourette’s existed medically, but socially it was often translated into stigma. I heard words such as “retarded” used casually about an autistic family member. As a younger person I once heard a colleague confidently state that Tourette’s “does not exist” and that “we now know that is not real.” As someone who experiences verbal and motor tics, that comment destabilised me. For a moment, I questioned myself, Do I cause this? Could I simply stop if I tried harder? In professional environments that explicitly valued inclusion, I often noticed unconscious bias operating in subtle ways. Colleagues would comment on how “good” my English was, assuming it could not be my first language. Others expressed scepticism that I might struggle with tasks they considered simple, whilst at the same time being able to speak several languages.
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Others expressed scepticism that I might struggle with tasks they considered simple, whilst at the same time being able to speak several languages. There seemed to be an implicit belief that competence in one area should automatically translate into ease in all others. At times, these assumptions were then used, consciously or unconsciously, to question the legitimacy of requested adjustments. Support was implemented reluctantly, or framed as unnecessary, as though visible strengths invalidated areas of genuine difficulty. The underlying message was that complexity in a person’s profile was somehow contradictory, rather than entirely human. Colleagues would often ask where I was “really from,” pressing for a specific country, as though my origin required clarification or if this would change somehow my skills. Sometimes they would make disparaging remarks about so-called “third world” countries, about education levels, about what “they do not teach there.” These comments were rarely overtly hostile, yet they revealed deeply embedded hierarchies of value. Temperature is a small but telling example. People would say, “You must love the heat,” assuming a cultural preference based on appearance. In reality, I experience differences in interoception and sensory processing. Heat is overwhelming for me. What seemed like minor comments accumulated over time into microaggressions, paradoxes between who I am and who others imagined me to be. Another time, during discussion of a job application, I heard someone say, “Well, they have ADHD, they are not going to be good for it.” The diagnosis itself was treated as sufficient evidence of incompetence. The people making these comments did not know that I am neurodivergent. In that moment, I confirmed that disclosure would not be safe.
Lived experience: Identity and masking
Growing up across different countries, I became aware that both my visible different ethnicity and my neurodivergent traits positioned me as “difficult.” In schools, once differences were identified, I was often ostracised. In some contexts, the colour of my skin or my accent created immediate distance. In others, people claimed to be inclusive of different ethnicities but became uncertain, even paralysed, when faced with neurodivergent communication or regulation such as stimming. I remember hearing parents tell their children not to get close to me. As though I were contagious. 8
As a child, I did not yet understand that diagnostic criteria are not inherently descriptions of weakness. Some professionals, even years ago recognised them as differences rather than deficits. But even in my family, when I was diagnosed as a childas well as another family member, they considered our different expressions of autism, and I could hear my family members telling the doctor I did not “look autistic” and even teacher expressing “what a shame” it was, as if I was doomed! My family was afraid I would be marginalised or mistreated. We heard stories of families attempting exorcisms for autistic children, or abandoning them due to the anticipated cost of support in different countries. These narratives linger in my mind . Masking became a way of protecting myself. I chose not to disclose my neurodivergence and I also learned to be cautious about naming my country of origin. The power dynamics were evident. Interestingly, the individuals expressing biased comments often held senior roles, at least more senior than me. Challenging them did not simply carry professional risk; it also felt destabilising in the moment. It is important to say that I was not personally distressed by every comment that was made. Some remarks did not wound me in the way others might expect. However, colleagues who cared about me were understandably concerned. After witnessing a supervisor behave multiple times in a way they perceived as bullying, they raised it formally. What followed was a structured process: meetings, mediation, documentation, formal steps. Although well intentioned, the process itself became overwhelming. The volume of interaction, the administrative demands, and the emotional intensity of it all were far more difficult for me than the original incident. I am not suggesting that inappropriate behaviour should be ignored. Rather, I am suggesting that responses should be thoughtful and tailored. There is often an assumption about what ought to make someone “upset” and procedures can be activated on that basis. Yet for me, the standardised process created more harm than the initial event. If behaviour is inappropriate, it should be addressed with the person doing it and supporting those that are the target. However, it should be addressed in a way that considers the person’s neurocognitive profile, their preferences, and what would genuinely support them, especially when we are not the ones creating the challenges. Policies are important, however, they should not be followed blindly that they lose sight of the individual they are meant to protect. Adaptation, flexibility, and curiosity about what actually helps are essential. Without that, well-meaning systems can unintentionally replicate the very harm they are trying to prevent. 9
I highlight this because people tend to believe that I will have problems adapting or being flexible due to my autism, when I believe I have become exceedingly good at these to survive, especially at work.
A turning point: Supporting another child
Some years ago I worked supporting children with special educational needs. No one there knew about my neurodivergence. In particular, I supported one pupil who was experiencing social exclusion. I heard parents instruct their children to avoid this child, just as I had once experienced. I made it my quiet mission to structure classroom interactions so that all children would work with the child. It was not immediate, it required persistence, but something remarkable happened. The children began to include the pupil naturally. They defended the child when older peers mocked. They did not need me constantly present. I realised that children often have not yet fully absorbed the stigmas their parents carry. They can choose differently. In that moment, I saw that change does not always require confrontation. It can emerge through scaffolding environments that allow inclusion to grow organically.
Joining the staff neurodiversity network
When I joined a Neurodiversity Network in DPT, I also joined an Ethnic Minority Network. I noticed that microaggressions in the ethnic minority group were sometimes more overt, while in neurodivergent contexts they appeared in subtler ways, through language that pathologised traits or through implicit exclusion from opportunity. I hesitated before joining. Cultural factors and prior experiences had taught me to be cautious. However, the network lead took time to talk with me and I felt a kind and thoughtful individual who was supportive and welcoming of differences. Joining was one of my best decisions. In that space, there are no “silly” questions. Cameras can be on or off. Pace can be adjusted. Contributions can be spoken or written in the chat. Meetings account for energy fluctuations and processing differences. There is room for “mistakes” and for “excellence.” There is scaffolding, encouragement, peer support, shared expertise. This environment models my values, relational and strength-based.
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Someone whose neurodevelopmental profile affects memory or organisation may become an exceptional organiser, not because it is easy, but because the skill has been honed through lived necessity. Strength does not negate cost; it acknowledges growth. In that network, I experience something different from tolerance. I experience belonging.
Why this matters
These experiences matter because they reveal a tension. Professions that champion inclusion are not immune to stigma. Bias exists everywhere, the difference is whether we are willing to identify and challenge it to change it, My mixed ethnicity, gender diversity, and neurodivergence intersect. They have exposed me to exclusion, but they have also sharpened my perception of systems, power, and relational dynamics. They have shaped my practice style grounded in co-creation rather than authority, in scaffolding and flexibility. I have learned that difference is not the obstacle, it is often the environment. I continue to need adjustments, I continue to encounter bias and sometimes, I can see clearly where I am in my journey. I am able not only to survive systems, but to gently reshape them so that others do not have to hide. In the network I feel we are all working towards this, together.
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Staff story
Hello all – I am from Hong Kong; the dot located in South China. Being an ex-British colony, you can see Chinese culture crashes with the west there. For example, tri-axle double-decker buses, in their thousands that is made mostly by British manufacturers, and a structured and often sophisticated transport network – which unfortunately is one of my major hobby.
My childhood in Hong Kong was an endless negative spiral. I attended school to get bullied; I get home to find myself struggling to do homework and not making sense of things; I get scolded by my parents for my poor academic performance… They decided to send me to particularly Northern Ireland, as the tuition fees are much lower than mainland UK, to get away from a toxic, competitive education environment of Hong Kong. They say, “You must not pose yourself in any way that tells people you are weird (has autism)”.
But the teachers saw me struggling in school, and my hobby does give away a lot, so my school decided to refer me to the local CAMHS to get support and a diagnosis.
My parents were absolutely petrified having a diagnosis of autism may equal to dismissal from my school unless they agree to provide me support so that I can continue my education in Northern Ireland; The clinical psychologist put this extra letter of assurance and sent it to Hong Kong alongside my autism diagnosis report: “…his diagnosis is otherwise confidential. Once he leaves school, he will not be obliged to inform others of it unless he wishes to. It should not hinder young people in achieving goals such as university and successful careers…”
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“…Whilst in the UK he will be entitled to specialist support in school, through an Autism team who will discreetly meet with him. Other pupils will not be informed of his diagnosis and if he meets with a professional from the autism team this will happen without alerting his peers. He will also be entitled to support through our specialist team who offer support with his social skills and with managing stress…” “…This should not affect his placement in his current school, rather it may serve to support it…” Things were better with recognition: I was able to get a teaching assistant to help me to with organisation, and they were the invigilators who sat with me my GCSEs and A-levels; I was gaining progress at school with the specialist help which I gained so much confidence, but only it was always crushed three times per year when I returned to my parents in Hong Kong during the school holidays. I was really interested in Mental Health as it really brought positive changes so I decided to study Psychology in University when we must make choices at A-levels. Of course, my parents still made that unrealistic goal of studying medicine as my autism “allows me to swallow a lot of knowledge” and psychology “may not secure a high-pay job” - very typical Asian parent thinking. They were only to support my decision after some persuasion from my teachers but not in full: they sent me to Exeter, which I never visited until going to university here, instead of Queens University Belfast, in a city I am more familiar with. My diagnosis still affected me until now: my parents still hopes that I will be “cured” of autism until very recently; But the positives are I started to make sense of myself, I learnt so much about myself in these supports I received, and I have a greater self-esteem. I am very glad that I am in the West, because that there are more support for SEND, and kinder employment laws compared with home where I may be very disadvantaged; I would say that stigma towards people with neurodivergence can be bad here but worst at home, alongside Mental Health problems, where accessing diagnosis and help is difficult and are very badly stigmatised. My working life was difficult as the job market was very competitive, but I am now work in the NHS, but I hope that I can go a few steps further to become that someone I wanted to be…
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If you feel that you have traits of neurodivergence, please don’t hesitate to reach out via your GP so that you can get a diagnosis. It is nothing to be ashamed of as you will work more effectively when the outside world is kinder to you. It can be a double-edge sword but given that the NHS is a model employer they are obliged to help you thrive. And to the managers: Do not be that edge of the sword that harms your team member. Take time to listen to their needs and make reasonable adjustments, be as transparent as possible because ethnic minorities feel particularly disadvantaged when facing the power difference. Allowing equity means they can work as effectively and efficiently near to a neurotypical person. We repay recognition and appreciation by positive action i.e. staying focus, be committed, and not use our disability as a “card” but to challenge it.
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Peer support and online communities
Spaces led by and for neurodivergent people from racially and culturally diverse backgrounds.
These groups provide connection, shared experience and culturally informed discussion. Some are identity-led; others are diagnosis-focused. Many are peer-run and informal.
ADHD UK – ADHD and Ethnic Minorities https://www.facebook.com/groups/adhdandethnicminorities Black autistics: https://www.facebook.com/groups/blackautistics Autistic Black, Brown, Indigenous, Asian, and Mixed-Race People of Color - https://www.facebook.com/groups/autisticpoc/ ND connections – Black Autistic online meet (Free) https://ndconnection.co.uk/black- autistic-meetup
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Social media and digital advocates
Accessible, lived-experience content exploring neurodivergence through cultural and racial lenses.
These creators share education, personal insight and advocacy via Instagram, YouTube, blogs and other platforms. Social media can offer a lower-pressure way to explore neurodivergence privately.
Autistic typing - https://www.facebook.com/AutisticTyping/ Sistas with ADHD - https://www.instagram.com/sistaswithadhd/
The Algerian Psychologist - https://www.instagram.com/the.algerianpsychologist Diversity_in_neurodiversity - https://www.instagram.com/diversity_in_neurodiversity/ Autism in Black - https://www.youtube.com/@autisminblack Latin neurodivergence - https://neurolatino.wordpress.com/ Autistic, Typing has also curated a list of Autistic Black/Indigenous/People of Colour and Latinx Advocates to follow: https://www.facebook.com/AutisticTyping/posts/455214035079000
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Videos and talks
Short and long-form content exploring neurodivergence, race and lived experience.
These include TEDx talks, interviews and panel discussions covering cultural barriers to diagnosis, masking, code-switching and identity.
Ain't No Shame in my ADHD Brain | Torrian Timms | TEDxDeepEllum: https://youtu.be/m1oej44YqfM?si=CS6c_aDYTdIQou0P Why ethnic minorities rarely get diagnosed ADHD or autism: https://youtube.com/shorts/aHv6g8CZPDo?si=E1Ehn6yxycdNhuc_ Neurodiversity & culture: https://youtu.be/1CQWmz-fY6w?si=E3cIaIdIZ4PdetOW Steve Silberman on Race & Neurodiversity: https://youtu.be/oZO5DwRf-g0? si=zmXpajjNzUpFO0qS Black Men & Neurodiversity: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_RhWexEgaE What It's Like to Be ADHD and Black https://youtu.be/oh-3ULQJiEY? si=eHfW1IWk5xUzR8TZ
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Articles and personal narratives
First-person stories and reflective journalism centring intersectional experiences.
These pieces explore late diagnosis, invisibility, stigma and representation across different ethnic and cultural contexts.
Neurodiversity: What is it and what does it look like across races? https://www.open.edu/openlearn/health-sports-psychology/mental- health/neurodiversity-what-it-and-what-does-it-look-across-races Where are the BAME dyslexic role models? https://www.learningdisabilitytoday.co.uk/news/where-are-the-bame-dyslexic-role- models/ The invisibility of black autism: https://undark.org/2016/05/17/invisibility-black- autism/ Dyslexia stories: https://www.bdadyslexia.org.uk/stories/my-dyslexia-story-monica-akakpo https://www.bdadyslexia.org.uk/stories/mydyslexiastory-lisa-daniels https://www.bdadyslexia.org.uk/stories/my-dyslexia-story-georgina-nnamani https://www.bdadyslexia.org.uk/stories/daw-24-sarah-olaifa https://www.bdadyslexia.org.uk/stories/my-dyslexia-story-nysha-givans https://www.bdadyslexia.org.uk/stories/my-dyslexia-story-keisha Neurodivergence in Ancient Africa: What History Forgot but Our Ancestors Knew: https://lovettejallow.substack.com/p/neurodivergence-ancient-africa Autistic While Black in the UK: Masking, Codeswitching, and Other (Non)fictions: https://neuroclastic.com/long-read-autistic-while-black-in-the-uk-masking- codeswitching-and-other-nonfictions/ Black, female and autistic — hiding in plain sight (article & audio): https://www.salon.com/2017/03/15/listen-black-female-and-autistic-hiding-in-plain- sight/ Stories from the Spectrum: Iqru Babar: https://www.autism.org.uk/advice-and- guidance/stories/stories-from-the-spectrum-iqra-babar 18
Academic research and policy perspectives
Peer-reviewed research exploring systemic barriers, diagnosis disparities and intersectionality.
These resources may be particularly useful for clinicians, managers and staff supporting clients.
Kandeh MS, Kandeh MK, Martin N, Krupa J (2020), "Autism in black, Asian and minority ethnic communities: a report on the first Autism Voice UK Symposium". Advances in Autism, Vol. 6 No. 2 pp. 165–175, doi: https://doi.org/10.1108/AIA-12- 2018-0051 Begeer, S. et al. (2009) ‘Underdiagnosis and Referral Bias of Autism in Ethnic Minorities’, Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 39(1), 142–148. doi:10.1007/s10803-008-0611-5. Botha, M. and Gillespie-Lynch, K. (2022) ‘Come as You Are: Examining Autistic Identity Development and the Neurodiversity Movement through an Intersectional Lens’, Human Development, 66(2), 93–112. doi:10.1159/000524123. Black Spectrum Scholar (link to Autism and ADHD resource drive, includes journal articles on a variety of subjects) : https://linktr.ee/lapestenoire
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Books and memoirs
In-depth lived experience, scholarship and cross-cultural perspectives.
These books explore various aspects of neurodiversity through intersectional and culturally informed lenses.
All the Weight of Our Dreams: On Living Racialized Autism edited by Lydia X Z Brown et al. (By autistic women of color) Autistic and Black by Kala Allen Omeiza Homeless: Growing Up Lesbian and Dyslexic in India by K. Vaishali Voices of Neurodiversity: An Inclusive Encyclopaedia By Chris Papadopoulos The Secret Life of a Black Aspie: A Memoir by Anand Prahlad The Reason I Jump: The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism by Naoki Higashida (Author) Fall Down 7 Times Get Up 8: A Young Man's Voice from the Silence of Autism by Naoki Higashida Black, Brilliant and Dyslexic: Neurodivergent Heroes Tell their Stories by Marcia Brissett-Bailey (Editor) Dyslexia and Me: How to Survive and Thrive if You’re Neurodivergent by Onyinye Udokporo Empowering Dyslexics: Blessed & Gifted by Keisha Adair - Swaby
We hope these resources offer starting points for reflection, connection, and continued learning 20
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