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Neurodivergent leadership and management (Image by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels)

Popular media often frames autism through recognisable stereotypes: the awkward genius, or the socially inept outsider. My own experience has been rather different. I didn’t suddenly become autistic when I received my diagnosis aged 31. My whole life, my career and particularly my leadership approach has always been shaped by my neurodivergence. In some ways I’ve thrived as a neurodivergent leader: understanding how people think and what motivates them is a longstanding ‘special interest’ of mine – one that translates naturally into leadership practice.

Yet navigating leadership as an autistic person also means compromising on the things that keep me well, in order to meet expectations shaped around neurotypical norms. I work within systems not designed with neurodivergent leaders in mind. I regularly contend with poor communication, unwritten rules, rapid task switching and sensory overwhelm – features that are endemic in educational institutions. Despite the toll these take, I am expected to operate as if my neurodivergence did not exist.

‘Navigating leadership as an autistic person also means compromising on the things that keep me well, in order to meet expectations shaped around neurotypical norms.’

I have been fortunate to feel able to disclose my neurodivergence to my senior leadership and be treated as a competent professional. As a director of faculty in a sixth-form college, leading a large curriculum area and overseeing teaching and learning across the college, this is not something I take for granted. Even so, it felt like a risk. I have not disclosed fully to my teams for fear that colleagues may reinterpret my leadership capacity through a deficit lens. These experiences echo emerging research into the experiences of neurodivergent educators working within neuro-normative institutional cultures.

Studies consistently show that the attitudes of others influence autistic people’s decisions about whether to disclose in professional contexts. Autistic professionals describe masking their autistic identity to avoid being misunderstood and being perceived as less competent (Romualdez et al., 2021). Even when disclosure does occur, it does not reliably lead to meaningful change. One survey found that over half of respondents were unable to request adjustments, or experienced requests being refused or poorly implemented (Heasman et al., 2020).

These risks appear amplified in leadership contexts. Neurodivergent professionals are underrepresented in senior and governance roles, with some autistic people actively avoiding leadership roles altogether (Mir, 2025). Studies in higher education point to the ways informal politicking, interview practices and narrow conceptions of leadership privilege neurotypical individuals. This often positions neurodivergence as a problem to accommodate rather than a positive influence on institutions (Mir, 2025). Such organisational cultures reinforce the normalisation of education as an ableist environment – something that I recognise as a leader in my own context – to the detriment of staff and students.

Existing research, and lived experience, raise important questions about how institutions support neurodiversity. No matter their role, it cannot be the responsibility of the individual to continue being ‘brave’ in the face of risk or endlessly resilient in ableist systems. Institutions must examine their assumptions about neurodiversity and reflect on the explicit and implicit expectations they place on leaders. Moving towards more inclusive leadership cultures requires a shift from reactive, disclosure-dependent adjustments towards proactive, universal design.

‘Recognising – and supportively harnessing – the distinct perspectives of neurodivergent leaders can positively shape cultures, decision-making and, ultimately, educational outcomes.’

Organisational practices that support neurodivergent leaders benefit entire staff communities. Clearer communication, transparent role expectations and reduced reliance on informal networking or unwritten rules would create fairer, more predictable conditions, enhancing the working environment for all colleagues. Recognising – and supportively harnessing – the distinct perspectives of neurodivergent leaders can positively shape cultures, decision-making and, ultimately, educational outcomes.

Receiving an autism diagnosis did not change who I am as a teacher or leader, but it did change how I understood the systems I navigate on a daily basis. Educational leadership cultures place the burden of inclusion and support onto individuals, rather than addressing them at an institutional level. If we are serious about inclusion in education, we must ask not only how we support neurodivergent students, but also what forms of leadership do our systems enable – and at what cost?

References

Heasman, B., Livesey, A., Walker, A., Pellicano, E., & Remington, A. (2020). DARE report on adjustments. Centre for Research in Autism and Education, Institute of Education, University College London.

Mir, I. (2025, December 17). Where are the neurodivergent leaders in higher education? University World News.

Romualdez, A. M., Walker, Z., & Remington, A. (2021). Autistic adults’ experiences of diagnostic disclosure in the workplace: Decision-making and factors associated with outcomes. Autism & Developmental Language Impairments, 6.

Spiegler, J., Arhin-Acquaah, K. I., Hamilton, C., Timmerman, A., Romualdez, A. M., & Pellicano, E. (2025). Autistic educators’ views and experiences of inclusion and exclusion: How workplace culture shapes belonging. Neurodiversity, 3.

Artificial intelligence declaration: The author used Microsoft Copilot to assist with sourcing articles and relevant research, and suggesting amendments to improve academic writing style (explicitly as a coach suggesting ideas, rather than offering rewrites). The author takes full responsibility for the accuracy and originality of this publication and complied with the terms of .