Hey everyone, and welcome back to My Weird Prompts. I am Corn, and I am sitting here in our living room in Jerusalem with my brother. It is a beautiful, slightly chilly February afternoon in twenty twenty-six, and we are looking out over the hills, sipping some tea, and getting ready to tackle a topic that has been sitting in our inbox for a while now.
Herman Poppleberry here, and I am genuinely excited for this one. It is a topic that touches on biology, sociology, and the very way we structure our civilization. It is one of those "big picture" ideas that changes how you see every person you walk past on the street.
Exactly. So, today’s prompt comes from Daniel. He sent us a great audio message reflecting on his own journey with an ADHD diagnosis later in life. Daniel’s question is about a term that has really moved from the fringes of academic discourse into the absolute mainstream over the last few years, and that is neurodiversity. Daniel was asking about the actual scope of it. Is it just autism and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, or does it go further? And more importantly, he wants to know about the actual utility of the term. Since "neurodivergent" is not a clinical diagnosis you get from a doctor—you don't walk out with a slip of paper saying "Diagnosis: Neurodivergent"—why does it matter? Is it just a buzzword, or is there a practical, even political, reason for it to exist?
It is a brilliant set of questions because there is often a massive disconnect between how the medical community uses these terms and how the community itself uses them. To really answer Daniel, I think we have to start by grounding ourselves in the history. We tend to think of "neurodiversity" as a very modern, twenty-twenties term, but it was actually coined in the late nineteen nineties—nineteen ninety-eight to be precise—by a sociologist named Judy Singer.
Nineteen ninety-eight? That is earlier than I would have guessed. What was the context back then?
Well, Singer was looking at the way we talk about biodiversity in ecosystems. In the nineties, the environmental movement had successfully argued that a diverse ecosystem is a healthy one. If you have a forest with only one type of tree, a single pest can wipe out the whole thing. Diversity creates resilience. Singer realized that we lacked a similar framework for human brains. At the time, if your brain didn't work the "standard" way, it was viewed strictly through the lens of pathology. You were "disordered," "broken," or "deficient." She wanted to shift the conversation toward the idea that neurological differences are a natural, and even necessary, part of human variation.
That is a powerful analogy. Biodiversity as a strength. But I can hear the skeptics already, Herman. They might say, "Sure, a forest needs different trees, but a human brain needs to be able to read, pay attention, and follow social cues to survive in society." How did she bridge that gap?
She did it by leaning into the social model of disability. This is a crucial distinction for Daniel’s question about utility. The medical model says: "You have a problem, and we need to fix you so you can function in the world." The social model says: "You have a particular set of traits, and you are only 'disabled' because the world was built without those traits in mind." It is the difference between saying a person in a wheelchair is "broken" and saying the building is "broken" because it doesn't have a ramp.
Okay, so let’s tackle Daniel’s first question about the scope. Most people immediately think of autism and ADHD when they hear the word neurodivergent. In twenty twenty-six, that seems to be the standard shorthand. Is that the whole list, or is the umbrella bigger?
The umbrella is significantly larger than most people realize, and it is actually growing as our understanding of the brain evolves. Beyond autism and ADHD, you have the "dys" group: dyslexia, which is a different way of processing language and symbols; dyspraxia, which affects motor coordination and how the brain plans physical movements; and dyscalculia, which is essentially the math version of dyslexia, where the brain struggles to process number-related concepts.
I feel like dyscalculia doesn't get nearly enough attention. People just say "I am bad at math," but for some, it is a fundamental neurological difference in how they perceive quantity.
Absolutely. And it goes further. Tourette syndrome is firmly under the neurodiversity umbrella. Many advocates also include Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD, because it involves a persistent neurological pattern of thought. There is also a growing movement to include things like hyperlexia—where children read at an incredibly advanced level but struggle with verbal communication—and even certain types of synesthesia, where senses overlap, like tasting colors or seeing sounds.
What about mental health conditions like depression or anxiety? Daniel asked if it is just a label we stick on people. Does including mental health conditions make the term too broad?
That is a point of healthy debate within the community. Generally, the distinction is made between "innate" neurodivergence—things you are born with, like autism—and "acquired" or "secondary" neurodivergence. Some people argue that persistent, treatment-resistant depression or complex PTSD changes the brain's "operating system" so fundamentally that those individuals should be considered neurodivergent too. However, for the sake of Daniel’s question about advocacy, the core group usually focuses on those developmental differences that represent a different "wiring" from birth.
So, if the list is that broad—dyslexia, ADHD, autism, Tourette’s, dyspraxia—does the term lose its edge? If everyone is a little bit different, is everyone neurodivergent?
That is the "everyone is a little bit on the spectrum" argument, and it can be quite dismissive. The term "neurotypical" exists for a reason. It describes the majority of people whose brains process information, sensory input, and social cues in a way that aligns with the dominant structures of our society. If you are neurotypical, the world was essentially designed for you. If you are neurodivergent, you are operating on a system that is fundamentally at odds with those designs. To use a tech analogy: if eighty percent of the world is running on Windows, and you are running on Linux, you aren't "broken," but you are definitely going to have compatibility issues when you try to run standard corporate software.
I love the Linux analogy. It captures the idea that the system is powerful and capable, but it requires different commands and a different environment to thrive. Let’s get to the "practical utility" part of Daniel’s prompt. He asks: "Since it is not a clinical label, what importance does it have?"
This is the heart of the matter. You are right, Daniel; you won't find "Neurodivergence" in the DSM-5 or the ICD-11. Those are medical manuals designed to diagnose "disorders." The utility of "neurodivergent" is social, political, and personal. First, it provides a shared identity. When you group autism, ADHD, and dyslexia together under one banner, you create a massive political voting block. We are talking about fifteen to twenty percent of the global population. That is not a small minority; that is a significant portion of humanity.
And that leads directly to his point about "banding together." If you are just "the guy with ADHD" in an office, you are an outlier asking for a favor. If you are part of a "Neurodiversity Employee Resource Group," you are part of a protected class of workers demanding equitable access.
Exactly. It shifts the power dynamic. In the last few years, especially leading up to twenty twenty-six, we have seen a shift in labor laws in several countries that are starting to recognize neurodivergence as a category for "reasonable accommodations" without requiring a specific, narrow medical diagnosis for every single tweak to the environment. It allows for a more holistic approach to workplace design.
Daniel mentioned his own experience with sensory processing. He talked about how an open-plan office can be an absolute nightmare if you are sensitive to smells, the hum of fluorescent lights, or the sound of a colleague chewing gum three desks away. In a traditional medical model, he might be told to take medication to "tune it out." In a neurodiversity framework, the office itself is the problem.
Right. And this brings us to a concept that I know you find fascinating,
the "Double Empathy Problem." This was proposed by Doctor Damian Milton, who is himself autistic. For decades, the medical consensus was that autistic people lacked empathy or social "intuition." Milton flipped the script. He argued that the communication breakdown between an autistic person and a non-autistic person isn't a one-way failure. It is a mutual misunderstanding.
It is like two people speaking different languages. Neither is "wrong," they just have different sets of rules for engagement.
Precisely. If two autistic people are communicating, they often understand each other perfectly. If two neurotypical people are communicating, they are fine. The "problem" only arises when they cross paths. The utility of the neurodiversity label is that it validates both ways of being. It says to the neurotypical manager, "You aren't the default 'correct' way of communicating; you are just one way. Your employee isn't failing to be social; they are being social in a different dialect."
That is a huge shift in perspective. But Herman, I want to push back a bit on the practical side, because I know some listeners will be thinking this. Is there a risk that by grouping all these conditions together, we overlook the specific, sometimes very difficult, needs of each? The support needed for someone with profound, non-verbal autism is worlds away from the support needed for a high-flying architect with dyslexia. Does the "neurodiversity" label risk sugarcoating the struggle?
That is the most significant critique of the movement, often coming from parents of children with high support needs. They worry that by calling it a "difference" rather than a "disorder," we might lose the funding for essential medical and behavioral therapies. But the leading thinkers in the field argue that these two things aren't mutually exclusive. You can acknowledge that a person has significant challenges that require intensive support while still maintaining that they have a right to exist as they are, without being "cured" of their identity.
So it is about "both/and." You can have the clinical diagnosis to get the insurance coverage for therapy, and the neurodiversity label to ensure you aren't treated as a second-class citizen.
Exactly. And let’s look at the "spiky profile" concept, which is a great practical tool for Daniel to use in the workplace. Most neurotypical people have a relatively "flat" profile of abilities. They are pretty good at reading, pretty good at math, pretty good at social stuff. Neurodivergent people often have "spiky" profiles. They might be in the ninety-ninth percentile for pattern recognition or coding, but in the fifth percentile for executive function—like remembering to pay a bill or organizing a calendar.
I see this all the time in tech circles. Someone who can solve a complex architectural problem in their head but can't keep their desk clean or show up to a meeting on time.
In the old model, we would spend all our energy trying to "fix" the low points of the spike. We would put that person in "remedial organization training" and ignore their genius. The neurodiversity model says: "Let’s support the low points—maybe get them an assistant or use AI tools to manage their schedule—so they can spend all their time on the high peaks where they provide the most value." That is a massive win for the individual and the company.
Speaking of twenty twenty-six, we have to talk about how technology and AI have changed this. Daniel asked about practical reasons for the label. I feel like we are in an era where "neuro-inclusive" tech is becoming the standard.
It really is. Think about the "curb-cut effect." This is the idea that things designed for people with disabilities end up helping everyone. Curb cuts were made for wheelchairs, but they are used by people with strollers, delivery workers with carts, and travelers with luggage. In twenty twenty-six, we see this with AI. Tools designed to help people with ADHD stay focused or help people with dyslexia read—like real-time text-to-speech or AI-generated summaries—are now being used by everyone.
Or the "live captioning" on video calls. That started as an accessibility feature for the D/HH community and neurodivergent people who struggle with auditory processing, but now, everyone uses it when they are in a noisy coffee shop or just want to make sure they didn't miss a word.
Exactly. When we band together under the neurodiversity banner, we push for these "universal design" features. A neuro-inclusive workplace isn't just better for the guy with ADHD; it is better for the parent who is sleep-deprived, the worker who is grieving, and the person who just works better in silence. It raises the floor for everyone.
I want to go back to Daniel’s point about "better treatment and support." What does that actually look like in a modern company? We have moved past just "giving someone a quiet room," right?
We have. In twenty twenty-six, leading companies like Microsoft, SAP, and even some of the big law firms have moved toward "skills-based hiring" instead of "interview-based hiring." The traditional job interview is basically a test of social performance. You have to make eye contact, engage in small talk, and read the interviewer’s subtle cues. For many neurodivergent people, especially those on the autism spectrum, they might be the most qualified person for the technical aspects of the job, but they fail the "vibe check."
Which is a terrible way to hire if you want the best talent.
It is! So, these companies are swapping the interview for "work trials" or "auditions." You come in for a week, you do the actual work, and they see how you perform. That is a direct result of the neurodiversity movement. It is a practical, structural change that removes the barrier for people whose brains don't do "small talk" but do "complex data analysis" perfectly.
There is also the issue of "masking." We should probably explain that for Daniel, because it is a huge part of why this label matters for mental health.
Masking is the process of suppressing your natural behaviors and mimicking neurotypical social cues just to survive. It is like running a heavy, resource-intensive background program on your laptop. If you are autistic, you might be manually reminding yourself to make eye contact every five seconds, or suppressing the urge to fidget. If you have ADHD, you might be using every ounce of your willpower to sit still in a three-hour meeting.
And that leads to burnout.
It leads to massive burnout. People who mask for decades often hit a wall in their thirties or forties where they just can't do it anymore. By embracing the neurodiversity label, you are giving yourself permission to stop masking. You are saying, "I am going to wear my noise-canceling headphones in the office, and I am not going to make eye contact during this deep-dive session, because that is how my brain works best." When you stop wasting energy on the "performance" of being normal, you have so much more energy for your actual life and work.
It sounds like the label is a form of "cognitive liberty." The right to have a brain that functions differently without being penalized for it.
That is a beautiful way to put it. Cognitive liberty. And it is also about the joy of finding your tribe. Daniel asked what can be achieved by banding together. One of the most powerful things is the realization that you aren't a "failed" version of a normal person. You are a perfectly successful version of a different kind of person. When you meet other people with "spiky profiles," you stop feeling like a project that needs to be fixed.
I think about the history of the "Mad Pride" movement or the Deaf culture movement. They moved from being "patients" to being a "culture." Is that where neurodiversity is heading?
It is already there. We are seeing the rise of neurodivergent culture—art, literature, and even humor that is specifically geared toward the way these brains work. There is a specific kind of "ADHD humor" or "autistic joy" that you see in online communities. It is about celebrating the hyper-focus, the deep passions, and the unique ways of seeing patterns that others miss.
Let’s talk about the global perspective for a second. We are sitting here in Jerusalem. Does this framework translate across cultures? Daniel’s prompt feels very rooted in a Western workplace context.
That is a really astute observation, Corn. The terminology is definitely Western-centric, but the underlying reality is universal. Every culture has people who process information differently. In some traditional cultures, someone who might be labeled "autistic" in the West might be seen as having a "sacred focus" or being a keeper of specific tribal knowledge. Someone with "ADHD" might have been the ultimate hunter or scout because of their hyper-awareness of their environment.
So the "disorder" part is really just a mismatch with modern, industrial society.
Exactly. If you take a person with high-energy ADHD and put them in a nineteenth-century factory or a twenty-first-century cubicle, they are "disordered." If you put them in a high-stakes, rapidly changing environment—like a first responder or a creative director—they are a superstar. The neurodiversity movement is trying to build a world where you don't have to be a "superstar" just to be accepted. You should be able to be an average neurodivergent person and still have a seat at the table.
I want to touch on one more thing Daniel asked: "Is it just a label we stick on people?" There is a fear of labeling, especially for children. Parents worry that a label will limit their child's potential.
I understand that fear, but the data actually suggests the opposite. A label like "neurodivergent" or "dyslexic" provides a map. Without the map, the child just thinks they are "stupid" or "bad." When they get the label, they realize, "Oh, my brain just uses a different path to get to the same destination." It replaces shame with strategy. Instead of "I can't do this," it becomes "I can't do this that way; I need to do it this way."
It is about agency. If you don't have a name for your experience, you are a victim of it. If you have a name, you can be the architect of your own life.
Precisely. And for Daniel, who got his diagnosis later in life, that label often brings a massive sense of grief for the years spent wondering why things were so hard, followed by a massive sense of relief. It is a "re-authoring" of your entire life story. You aren't the kid who couldn't finish his homework; you were a kid with an executive function difference trying to work in a system designed for a different brain.
So, to summarize for Daniel: the scope is vast—it is a "neurominority" that includes everything from how we move to how we think to how we perceive numbers. The utility is that it moves the conversation from the clinic to the community. It is a tool for legal protection, workplace reform, and personal self-acceptance.
And by banding together, we aren't just asking for "better treatment." We are fundamentally redefining what it means to be a "normal" human being. We are moving from a world of "standardization" to a world of "specialization." In the age of AI and automation, the "standard" tasks are being taken over. The value of the human brain in the future—and we are seeing this already in twenty twenty-six—lies in its unique, divergent qualities. The "weird" prompts, the "weird" connections, the "weird" ways of seeing the world—those are the things that are going to drive us forward.
I think that is a perfect place to wrap up the core of this discussion. It is not just about being "nice" to people who are different; it is about recognizing that those differences are the engine of human progress.
Well said. It is about moving from tolerance to appreciation. If you are listening to this and you have realized you might be under that umbrella, know that there is a massive community waiting for you. You don't need a doctor's note to start exploring how your brain works and what environments you need to thrive.
And if you are a manager or a teacher, the challenge is to stop looking for "flat profiles" and start looking for the "spikes." That is where the magic happens.
Absolutely. This has been a great dive, Corn. Daniel, thank you for such a thoughtful prompt. It gave us a lot to chew on.
It really did. And for everyone else, if you have a "weird prompt" about the brain, society, or how we are all trying to navigate this strange world in twenty twenty-six, please send it our way. We love digging into the nuance of these topics.
You can find us at our website, myweirdprompts.com. We have all our past episodes there, including some deep dives into the "neurodesign" of physical spaces and how the architecture of our cities affects our mental health.
You can also email us directly at show at myweirdprompts dot com. We are on all the major platforms—Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and the rest. If you enjoyed this episode, please consider leaving us a review. It really does help the show grow and helps other people find these conversations.
It makes a huge difference. We read every single one of them.
We really do. Well, the sun is starting to set here in Jerusalem, and the tea is long gone.
Time to head out. Until next time, I am Herman Poppleberry.
And I am Corn. Thanks for listening to My Weird Prompts. We will talk to you soon.
Goodbye!
Bye everyone!
