Neurotypical or neurodivergent, we are all different. There are fashion trends, bestselling books, blockbuster films, and songs that get frequent airplay, which bind many together with similarities. But largely what makes many society so similar is conformity. Humans like the feeling of fitting in, belonging, and being accepted. As a result many don’t rock the boat. When they go to work they wear clothes that are similar to what the other people in the office wear. They read what their friends recommend. Their hairstyles are influenced by fashion and celebrities. They do what they feel is expected of them.
As a result, those who do not understand the norms, don’t have a natural inclination to conform, or simply can’t, are actively judged to be different. Sometimes it’s a positive (“She has such stunning unique fashion sense!”), sometimes it’s indifferent (people not being included in social event invitations, but not being actively ostracised), and often it’s judgemental or mean. People often exclude or ignore what they don’t understand because they find it scary or confrontational.
But what if none of that existed? What if everyone, whatever their neurotype, felt 100% comfortable being authentically themselves? Not dressing like the other parents on the school run. Shaving their head when they were sick of hair maintenance or just want a change. Going for morning walks before their shower in their pyjamas. Eating “childish” food for lunch at work.
Sometimes people would still conform. They would find comfort in recognising themselves in others. There would be relief in following a trend rather than needing to expend the energy making decisions. It would happen for positive reasons. Not just because it’s the thing we’re supposed to do, and certainly not because we’re pushed into it.
Embracing Non-Conformity
I recently attended a martial arts grading for primary school aged children. This martial art school is not specifically intended for neurodivergent children, or kids with special needs, but it is endlessly inclusive and supportive. The differences simply do not matter. In a grading of around a dozen children, a number had a stuffed toy with them, a handful stimmed in a variety of ways, and at least one completed their grading in a modified order. Not one of these things was pointed out, caused any disruption, or prevented anyone from legitimately completing their grading. Everyone succeeded. Because everyone was allowed to be themselves, in order to be their best and do their best.
My grandfather used to eat with his hands in his favourite very expensive restaurant. He was very refined and well-mannered, even in the way he ate with his elegant hands, but it was certainly not what was expected in that calibre of restaurant. You know who cared? No-one. And you know who kept going back? My grandfather. His preferences were accepted without comment, so he felt accepted and comfortable.
My kids’ peer groups are dramatically non-homogenous. There is no “on Wednesdays we wear pink”, and when one does choose to buy the same shirt as another there appears be a vague concern that someone is copying someone else (which is not seen as a compliment). Instead we have discussions about the fact your friends can love the same things as you without imitating you, even if they learned about the thing from you. They are only fairly recently discovering the perks of your friends sharing a love for the same TV show or film or music. They all love each other for their own personalities, quirks, interests, and what they bring to the table.
Is It Me?
Sometimes when someone points out that our child looks different, our own experiences and trauma rear their ugly heads. We think:
- I don’t like it when I don’t fit in
- I want my child to fit in
- I want my child to feel accepted
- I felt awful whenever I was ostracised or othered as a child or adult
- I want to be judged as a good parent, not one who is turning my kid into a weirdo
- I don’t want my child being different to cause me to be excluded
What we probably ought to be thinking is:
- I want my child to be accepted for their authentic selves
- I am proud to be fostering the belief that being yourself is crucial
- When I am authentic, I am at my happiest
- When I am inauthentic I might be accepted, but I don’t always love the people who accept me
- If I am genuine, I find my people
- I want my child to find their people
Be The Safe Place
The local kids know I am unapologetically not-like-the-others. It’s not intentional, but it’s also something I’ve largely given up on hiding. They also know I’m a pretty boring stock-standard parent in a lot of ways, who has high expectations in terms of manners and behaviour (when achievable).
What this means is that they will approach me when I’m dropping my kids at school with random stories about what they saw on the way in, or ask me to play with them when they’re at our home, or come to me to share their frustrations or concerns at a birthday party, or tell me when they’re struggling emotionally or behaviourally. They know I accept all of them for who they are. They know that even if I don’t love everything they do, and every scrape they get themselves into, I trust they’re doing their best, and I will always see the positives bigger, and louder, and more clearly.
Some of the other parents have a laugh at how many kids jokingly call me Mum, or how many ask for my help opening packets at social events. One parent at the school gate recently asked, “How do they all know you? I think I know about five of my kid’s friends names, and I don’t think any of them have spoken to me except on playdates.” Kids know. They’ll gravitate to the people who let them be themselves, and who are being ourselves. We’re like kid-magnets.
I’m not being preachy, especially as it’s not a choice. Authentic people are a glimmer for me. Conformists feel… funny. Pointy. Uncomfortable. Not bad – I am friends with many people who keep up a safety wall for a variety of reasons – but there is not the same direct connection as there is with authentic people. That wall is palpable.
What If Authentic Isn’t Okay?
Like so many other aspects of parenting neurodivergent children, all approaches require boundaries and expectations. The line I usually draw in the sand is, “Does this harm my child or others?”
If the answer is yes, then it’s important to redirect that behaviour, or – if your child has the necessary skills – discuss with them why it’s not the right option.
If the answer is no, then question why you’re feeling it’s not okay. As above, it could be down to your own experience or bias. It might be a fierce parental urge to protect your child from judgement or ostracism. It might be that you’re working with societal guidelines rather than your own, and definitely not with neuroaffirming ones.
Sometimes the lines blur. You might feel that letting your 12 year old take a comfort blanket somewhere with them is going to cause them harm, in terms of being teased. But consider the impact of the alternative. Is it more important that your child is accepted by strangers or people who don’t know them well, or that they feel safe? That they are in control of their own wellbeing? That they are doing an excellent job of preemptively self-regulating? While the former might feel like the priority, a lifetime of trauma and masking is likely to be far worse.
How Can I Help?
You are going to a family event, and have chosen fancy outfits for your kids, mostly in navy and white. Your neurodivergent daughter decides she needs to wear her hot pink, mildly stained, leggings under her dress, rather than the white tights you’ve bought. Does it matter?
“She won’t look as pretty.” To whom?
“It doesn’t match.” And?
“Her grandparents will disapprove.” You can tell them how important her autonomy is.
“She’ll ruin the photo.” How? Because the tights stand out? Don’t you want people to remember your child for the person they are, rather than a fake version? Maybe she’s adding a little colour and fun.
Plus, remember, it’s not just your child. If everyone in your family felt the same freedom to be authentic, chances are your child wouldn’t be standing out in the first place.
Be the change, set the tone for your child’s future, and don’t squish them into a box in the first place. Watch how they thrive, excel, and find their people. And watch how the people around them find their own magical selves in return.