Amongst the media panic surrounding self-diagnosis and “everyone suddenly being bisexual”, there’s actual, scientific evidence that links LGBTQ+ identity and neurodiversity. According to a recent study from the University of Cambridge, autistic individuals are approximately 8 times more likely to identify as non-heterosexual than non-autistic peers, and there is similar research indicating that autistic people are more likely to identify as gender diverse. Although research in the field is sparse, the same ties are being made to those with ADHD.
Coined as the “neuroqueer” intersection, the overlap between these marginalised identities is a growing topic of discussion – a discussion that has the potential to make a lot of positive change, or, if taken up by the wrong people, continue the spread of misinformation.
Speaking solely from personal experience, the tie between these two communities makes sense. My ADHD diagnosis just had its first birthday and it’s been a long, ongoing process of learning how my brain works differently to others’. In some ways, the diagnosis gave me more questions than answers, especially as my psychiatrist heavily suggested I consider being screened for an autism diagnosis. Did you know that between 20 – 50% of those with ADHD are also autistic?
While I personally haven’t pursued another diagnosis (for reasons that would require a whole other article to explain), I’ve had a lot of time to consider how these things tie to my identity as a queer person, specifically as a lesbian who doesn’t connect with traditional "womanhood".
Neurodiverse people, including myself, often look at social norms in a different light: the unspoken rules that dictate the performance of gender, the do’s and do-not’s of sexuality, the guidelines everyone else seemed to understand at 13 while we, apparently, weren’t given the memo. When the rules presented to us just don’t make sense, there’s a higher chance we’ll question them, disobey them, and create an identity of our own.
Being defined as the “other” can be both isolating and liberating, but finding a community of those like yourself makes the whole experience a lot less lonely. By amplifying the voices of queer and neurodiverse communities, we can regain control of the narrative surrounding our identities and work towards a more inclusive, accessible future.