Neurodivergence does not exist in isolation from culture, r…

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

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