Neurodiversity-Affirming or Just Good Marketing?
- Alley Dezenhouse
- Mar 19
- 3 min read

Doesn't it seem like every service provider, school, and clinic has slapped the phrase "neurodiversity-affirming" on their website and marketing materials, lately? A word that I used to say often, only to be met with "neuro-what?" is becoming, dare I say...trendy? While the increasing visibility of neurodiversity is a step in the right direction, I have to ask: Is it just a tagline, or is it actually guiding practice?
We've seen this before.
Think about the marketing industry and its obsession with the term "green. Some brands market themselves as "green" while still using harmful ingredients—because "green" is a term with no universal definition. It sounds good, it sells, but it doesn’t always mean what consumers think it does. This kind of empty branding is called greenwashing. And now, we’re seeing something eerily similar in the world of neurodiversity-affirming practice.
Being neurodiversity-affirming isn’t just about avoiding outdated terms or swapping out deficit-based language. It’s not just about putting a rainbow infinity symbol on a brochure (although you know how deep my love runs for all things rainbow). It’s a deep, ongoing commitment to learning and maybe more importantly, unlearning.
It means changing:
how we educate,
how we assess and monitor progress,
how we provide therapy,
how we support individuals.
the actual application of our respective scientific disciplines.
It means:
centering autonomy,
rethinking out-dated behaviorist models (even if they are supported by research),
challenging long-standing systems that prioritize compliance over consent,
having hard conversations that support advocating for our community, and
being willing to walk away from collaborations that don't align with our values.
And, importantly, it’s not something you can become overnight.
So how do you tell the difference between a provider who is truly neurodiversity-affirming and one who is just using the label?
Here are some questions to ask:
How does the clinical or educational team define neurodiversity-affirming practice? If they can’t articulate it beyond “we use person-first language” or “we focus on strengths,” they might not be doing the deeper work.
Do they embrace autonomy and consent in their work?
A truly affirming provider ensures that clients have a say in their goals, that therapy is collaborative, and that compliance-based strategies are critically examined.
Is there an ongoing commitment to education?
Affirming providers invest in continual learning from neurodivergent voices, not just traditional professional development.
Do they challenge harmful practices, even if they’re industry standard?
Are they questioning outdated behavioral models, refusing to use coercive interventions, and making space for self-advocacy?
How do they handle distress and regulation?
Are they focused on nervous system support, co-regulation, and true emotional safety—or are they simply trying to eliminate behaviors that they find inconvenient?
Are they listening to neurodivergent people?
Not just the voices that align with existing practices, but the ones who challenge the status quo?
How does the physical environment reflect their commitment to nerurodiversity -affirming practice? Are environmnetal accomodations an after-thoughts or woven into the day to day expectations for classroom set-up and structure?
Neurodiversity-affirming practice is a philosophy.
It’s a lens through which we see the world, the individuals we serve, and the systems we operate within. It’s not a sticker, a slogan, or a marketing tool. And if a provider isn’t showing you the how behind their claim, then it might just be another case of branding over substance.
Because in the end, "affirming" isn't a buzzword—it’s a responsibility.
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