Introduction

“Not at all silly,” said I, losing my temper; “here for example, I take this Square,” and, at the word, I grasped a moveable Square, which was lying at hand—“and I move it, you see, not Northward but—yes, I move it Upward—that is to say, not Northward, but I move it somewhere—not exactly like this, but somehow—” Here I brought my sentence to an inane conclusion, shaking the Square about in a purposeless manner, much to the amusement of my Grandson, who burst out laughing louder than ever, and declared that I was not teaching him, but joking with him; and so saying he unlocked the door and ran out of the room. Thus ended my first attempt to convert a pupil to the Gospel of Three Dimensions.

—Edwin A. Abbott, from Flatland, 18841

The genius of Edwin Abbott's classic, Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions (1884), lies in how it constructs a universe that allows the reader to effortlessly awaken to the sense that we are constantly surrounded by solution pathways we are unable to perceive—or capitalize on—without access to new concepts outside our comfort zone or sphere of awareness.

Flatland injects the reader into the everyday household, economic, social, and political life of beings inhabiting a world bounded by just two spatial dimensions. We witness their trials, tribulations, and triumphs in entirely familiar terms and recognizable scenarios. But all of it happens in a world with only length and width—the Z-axis is every bit as alien to them as a fourth spatial dimension would be to us.

Abbott transports us across dimensional layers, first visiting the claustrophobic reality of one-dimensional life before being swept up into the mind-bending expanse of three-dimensional space. This is a great narrative trick, and it hits home.

As three-dimensional readers, we frown in bewilderment at the hapless Flatlanders and their failure to spot the N+1 spatial axis. If only they could see that new direction, we think as readers, they would have access to so many new possibilities. In the same breath, we are left with an almost urgent revelation that we might be in the same boat—surrounded by new directions and opportunities if only we could see perpendicularly to our familiar frame of reference.

Why are we starting with a Flatland metaphor? The short answer is that one of the defining premises of this book is that cognitive diversity is an N+1 axis for organizational culture. The long answer is the rest of this book.

This isn't a low-stakes game, either. To meddle with society's underlying neurodiversity zeitgeist is to meddle with the lives of perhaps about one of every five people on the planet. In fact, the numbers may even be much greater than that and growing at an unprecedented rate.

The results of a recent study by ZenBusiness showed that about half of the members of Generation Z (born between 1997 and 2012) identify with the neurodivergent umbrella. Twenty-two percent said they were “definitely neurodivergent” and 31% reported they were “somewhat neurodivergent.” The study was based on a survey that collected responses from 1,000 young adults between the ages of 18–25.2 Another study by Tallo reported that the vast majority of Gen Z job seekers (80%) would prefer to work for a company that supports neurodivergent people.3

This book is not your standard guidebook. There are plenty of practical tips, strategies, and actionable frameworks. But this is also a guide in a broader sense. Foreign travel often helps to foster respect, appreciation, and empathy for different customs and unfamiliar ways of tackling the mundane demands of everyday life. In that spirit, through first-hand accounts, anecdotes, thought experiments, unique explanatory devices, and case studies, this book endeavors to foster respect, appreciation, and empathy for the rich tapestry of human neurodiversity.

My hope is that, by the end of this book, you will not only be armed with valuable new tools but also feel that you have traveled on a journey that leaves you with a deep appreciation for all kinds of minds.

Ground Rules

The concept of “neurodiversity” has many different interpretations, definitions, and manifestations. But all of them roughly overlap around the central premise that neurodivergent people—such as the autistic, ADHDers, the dyslexic, the dyspraxic, synesthetes, the hyperlexic, the dyscalculic, and those identifying with other cognitive differences—deserve to be valued and seen as members of the natural spectrum of human cognitive diversity. A strengths-based lens helps manifest this value and guide others to see that neurodivergent people are just people with unique strengths and challenges.

I use “neurodivergent” in a manner that reflects the current best-supported scientific framework, which means that the degree of neurodivergence in any one individual is independent of any ideas about cognitive ability, intelligence, knowledge, or aptitude.

In other words, if I told you I planned to introduce you to someone tomorrow, and I further informed you that this person has been diagnosed with ADHD, or identifies with an emerging term called VAST (variable attention stimulus trait), you would have no basis to extrapolate that fact into any preconceptions about that person's intellectual capabilities, general knowledge, or capacity to successfully perform any given task or role.

Put another way, intellectual capability is entirely independent of the presence or absence of a neurodivergent cognitive profile. An autistic person may, for example, be either highly intellectually gifted or have an intellectual disability, or fall anywhere in between, just like any person. The same can be said of ADHDers or the dyslexic, or, for that matter, those with blue eyes or left-handedness or perfect pitch or dark hair or an anxiety disorder or a cleft palate.

This is a very important point to acknowledge at the outset.

In addition, as I use the terms here throughout, an individual can be either neurodivergent or neurotypical but not neurodiverse. Only a group of multiple individuals can be neurodiverse and only if it is populated by both neurodivergent and neurotypical members. I use the terms “neuroinclusion” and authentic neurodiversity inclusion interchangeably. A terminology resource guide appears in the Appendix for easy access to definitions and explanations of concepts, cognitive typologies, and terms used throughout this book.

The legacy framework for understanding neurodivergent people is generally known as the deficit-based perspective, or the medical-deficit model, which still dominates how most people view neurodivergence at all levels of culture today. According to this model, any given person is either neurotypical or dysfunctional. For decades, this framework has formed the basis for how we evaluate students, employees, parents, children, active community members, artists, public intellectuals, next-door neighbors, and everyone else.

The deficit-based perspective is a colored lens through which most of us have viewed cognitive differences all our lives, and the collective experience of that reality has sown hidden, deep-seated biases that are not only counterproductive to organizational outcomes but also run contrary to a growing body of research, as we will cover in the chapters ahead.

Levels of support needs are as varied and diverse as neurodivergent people themselves. Some people identify as disabled while others identify as simply being wired differently. I believe that a strength-based approach empowers everyone to reach their full potential but does not imply that support and accommodations are not needed or important. Nor does a strength-based perspective change any legal obligations such as those defined by the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). As emphasized in the Pyramid of Neuroinclusion introduced in chapter 5, a culture of psychological safety, trust, transparent communication, support, work adaptations, and empathy is essential for all to thrive.

Possibly, the most important shortcoming of the pure medical-deficit perspective is that it orients us, by default, toward a set of standards inextricably tied to seeing neurotypical cognitive profiles as inherently more valuable or more acceptable than neurodivergent profiles without an appreciation of the rich diversity of gifts and talents that often go hand in hand with neurodivergent cognition.

It's a bit like the hidden, deep-seated bias we all share about understanding the Earth from a north-is-up assumption. There's no fundamental reason to place north as the central orienting direction when viewing a map or globe. More to the point, there are plenty of times when seeing the world “upside down” can offer important insights about the layout of the planet. Yet we all end up feeling a bit uncomfortable looking at a map until we turn it so that north points up.

The net result is the habitual pattern, in most of the business world, to define workplace rules, performance assessments, and hiring practices by a set of standards that, at root, are ultimately just about turning our perception map until neurotypical “points up.”

From this perspective, “different” equals “deficient.” That puts neurodivergent people at an instant and unfair disadvantage: unfair to neurodivergent employees who are cast aside despite having applicable skills and...