“Good Different”: So, Is ND a Superpower or a Disability?
Receiving a neurodivergent diagnosis can bring a whole mix of emotions.
For some people, there can be relief: “This finally explains so much.” For others, there may be grief, confusion, anger or worry about what the diagnosis means for the future. Parents may wonder whether they have done something wrong, whether their child will be okay, or whether the diagnosis will change how other people see them.
And then there is the often-confusing messaging surrounding neurodivergence.
One minute you might hear that autism or ADHD is a disability that will create lifelong challenges. The next, you might see a post telling you that being neurodivergent is a superpower and that there are no deficits at all.
So which one is it?
The uncomfortable answer is: it can be both, and neither label really tells the WHOLE story.
Why do we feel the need to make a diagnosis “positive”?
When someone receives a diagnosis, particularly a child, it is understandable to want to immediately find the positives.
Parents might hear years of negative language about their child: behind, difficult, disruptive, defiant, socially awkward, inattentive, too sensitive, lazy, challenging.
A diagnosis can bring a new way of understanding those experiences.
It can also be confronting to encounter the medical model of disability, which tends to locate disability primarily within the individual. From this perspective, autism, ADHD or another neurodevelopmental difference is understood largely through impairments, symptoms and difficulties that need to be identified, treated or managed.
There are important reasons why the medical model exists, particularly when we need to understand someone's support needs or access appropriate healthcare. But when it becomes the only way we understand neurodivergence, it can leave people feeling as though their brain itself is the problem.
This is where the social model of disability offers another perspective.
The social model asks a different question
The social model of disability distinguishes between a person's impairment or difference and the barriers created by their environment.
For example, a person who uses a wheelchair may have difficulty navigating stairs, but the disability is not simply the person's inability to walk. The inaccessible building is also part of what creates the disability.
A similar idea can be useful when thinking about neurodivergence.
An autistic child who finds a noisy classroom overwhelming may genuinely experience sensory distress. That experience is real. But the extent to which it becomes disabling can be influenced by the environment: the noise level, access to breaks, expectations around sitting still, understanding from teachers and whether accommodations are available.
The same applies to ADHD. A person may genuinely experience difficulties with attention, working memory or executive functioning. But the impact of those differences can change dramatically depending on the environment, expectations, supports and accommodations around them. This doesn't mean that neurodivergent people don't have genuine difficulties.
It means that disability isn't always created by the person's brain alone.
The social model helps us ask:
What does this person need?
What barriers are around them?
What could we change?
What strengths and abilities are being overlooked?
So where does the “superpower” idea come from?
The superpower language often comes from a very understandable place.
For a long time, neurodivergent people have been described almost entirely through what they cannot do. The superpower narrative attempts to push back against this deficit-focused view.
Autistic people might be described as having incredible attention to detail, honesty, intense interests or pattern recognition. People with ADHD might talk about creativity, spontaneity, energy, hyperfocus or thinking differently. These strengths can absolutely be real. The problem isn't recognising strengths. The problem is when we turn those strengths into a requirement.
Because autism isn't always an extraordinary ability to notice tiny details. ADHD isn't always boundless creativity and energy. Being neurodivergent isn't a guaranteed pathway to genius, innovation or exceptional talent. And even when someone does have significant strengths associated with their neurotype, those strengths don't erase the areas where they may need substantial support.
What does the media teach us about autism?
For many people, their first exposure to autism isn't through an autistic person, a psychologist or an assessment report. It's through television and film.
Shows like The Good Doctor have played an important role in making autism more visible to the general public. Representation matters. Seeing autistic characters on screen can create conversations and help people recognise that autistic people belong in every part of society.
But representation can also shape our understanding in ways that aren't always helpful.
The Good Doctor's Shaun Murphy is an autistic surgeon who is also portrayed as a savant with extraordinary abilities. This taps into a long-standing cultural association between autism and exceptional or unusual talents, famously represented in older media through Rain Man.
The problem is that savant abilities are not representative of autistic people as a whole. When these are some of the most recognisable portrayals of autism, people can start to expect autistic people to have extraordinary memories, mathematical abilities, musical talents or other exceptional skills. This can create another version of the "superpower" stereotype.
An autistic person doesn't need to be a genius to be autistic. They don't need to have an exceptional memory. They don't need to be able to calculate complicated equations in their head. And they certainly don't need to demonstrate some extraordinary talent to make their diagnosis feel worthwhile. It is also important to remember that television characters are individual fictional representations, not diagnostic descriptions.
Fortunately, there are other shows that provide different perspectives. Check out these RECS:
Atypical explores autism, family relationships, adolescence, independence and the messiness of growing up,
while Love on the Spectrum provides a range of autistic people with different personalities, interests, communication styles and experiences of relationships.
No single television show can represent an entire neurotype. Autism is incredibly diverse, and good representation needs to reflect that diversity.
Neuro-neutral can be a useful middle ground
This is where neuro-neutral language can be helpful.
Rather than automatically describing a characteristic as either a deficit or a superpower, we can simply describe what it is and consider whether it is helpful, difficult, neutral or context-dependent for that particular person.
Instead of: “Talks too much”
Try: “May provide extensive detail when discussing topics of interest.”Instead of: “Doesn't talk enough”
Try: “May provide brief responses, particularly in unfamiliar or socially demanding situations.”Instead of: “Doesn't look at people when they're talking”
Try: “May look away while listening or speaking, particularly when concentrating on what is being said.”
You can celebrate your child's strengths while still advocating strongly for accommodations. You can love everything about your child and still wish certain things were easier for them. You can feel relieved by a diagnosis and grieve at the same time. You can be proud of your neurodivergent identity and still experience disability. There is no contradiction in that..
Neuroaffirming practice isn't about pretending that difficulties don't exist. It is about understanding those difficulties without reducing the person to them. It means asking what is difficult, why it is difficult, what the environment is contributing, what strengths we can build from, and what support might make life more accessible.
Sometimes being neurodivergent might feel like a gift. Sometimes it might feel disabling. Sometimes it might feel completely ordinary. And sometimes it might feel like all three in the same week.