Why Experiencing Connection Can Mean More Than Saying You’re Neurodiversity Affirming

Sometimes I sit and think about the phrase neurodiversity affirming. It is everywhere right now. It shows up in conference presentations, on websites, and especially in Instagram bios. I see people proudly writing that they are neurodiversity affirming, and in many ways I understand why. For a long time, differences were misunderstood or even rejected. So of course people want to make it clear that they accept and respect autistic individuals and other neurodivergent people.

And honestly, I agree with the heart behind it. Accepting differences matters. Recognizing people’s strengths matters. Listening to individual experiences matters. Every person deserves to feel respected and understood for who they are. That part feels very obvious to me.

But sometimes I catch myself wishing we lived in a world where we did not even need to say it. I wish kindness and openness toward differences were just part of who we are as people, not something we needed to label or announce. Not something we needed to declare publicly so others know we are safe. I imagine a world where we do not need to write neurodiversity affirming in our bios because everyone already assumes that we treat people with dignity and curiosity. A world where differences do not make people uncomfortable and where people are naturally open to learning about someone whose brain or way of communicating looks different from their own.

But the truth is, we are not quite there yet. A lot of people simply do not know how to interact with autistic children, especially children who are non speaking or who experience challenges with regulation. For someone who has never spent time around autism, those differences can feel unfamiliar and sometimes even intimidating. Not because people are bad or uncaring, but because the unknown can make people uneasy.

I see it all the time in my day to day life, with parents, and even with professionals. People want to be kind, but they do not know what to do. They do not know how to connect. I keep wondering what it would be like if we could actually show them. What if instead of just talking about acceptance, we helped people actually experience the joy of connecting with autistic children.

My dad is a perfect example of this. He has always been around my cousin Hailey, but for a long time he did not quite know how to connect with her. He would say hi, acknowledge her, be kind, but there was not a real interaction there. It felt surface level, like he did not quite know what to do next. And honestly, that is how a lot of people are. Not unwilling, just unsure what to do.

Over time, I started showing him small things. I showed him how to follow her lead, slow down, and join her. Nothing complicated, just simple moments of connection. Now when he sees her, it is different. He does not just greet her and move on. He gets in the swing with her and plays with her. He talks to her like a human being, not someone he is unsure of. You can feel that the connection is real. It is natural and it is joyful. He did not get there by wanting to be neurodiversity affirming, but by actually experiencing it. Once he felt that connection, it stuck.

Imagine what could happen if more people could experience that. What if more people could see the moments that I get to see every day. The laughter, the play, the moments when a child feels truly understood, and the pride that comes from being seen and heard. There is so much beauty in those moments.

Sometimes when I am working with a child, I think about how much the world is missing if they never get to see this side of autism. Because when you slow down and meet a child where they are, something really special happens. Connection happens and it changes people.

I wonder if that is the real path forward. Not just language or labels, but experience. Helping people feel the joy and humanity that exists inside these relationships. Because once someone experiences that connection, it is very hard to go back to seeing differences as something strange or uncomfortable.

Maybe the real shift happens when people realize that these children are not mysterious or unreachable. They are playful, curious, expressive, and full of personality. They just communicate and experience the world in their own way.

And honestly, when I think about it, that is true for all of us. We all have our differences. Every single person does. Some differences are more visible than others, but none of us fit perfectly into the same mold. I know I do not.

Maybe that is why this idea keeps coming back to me. What if the goal is not just to say we affirm neurodiversity, but to actually build a culture where difference feels normal and connection feels natural. What if we could help people see that engaging with autistic children can be joyful and meaningful and even fun.

If more people experienced that, I wonder if it could start something bigger. Maybe not overnight, but slowly. Maybe it could shift the way our culture thinks about differences. Maybe one day we would not need special language to describe acceptance. Maybe it would simply be who we are.