The Lady's not for Turning: a lesson in humility
- Joan van den Brink
- Oct 17
- 3 min read
Updated: Oct 29

I pride myself on my ability to tune into others and listen deeply to them. Often in conversations I can hear the different perspectives that are being expressed. Because there are few issues that I hold strong views on, I can listen dispassionately and intervene if I sense that there is a misunderstanding between them or each person is entrenched in their views and only hearing a limited version of what is being expressed.
In the last 18 months I have been discovering more and more about the experiences of neurodivergent people and the daily challenges they face because they are required to conform to neurotypical norms rather than being allowed to navigate the world in the ways that work best for them. This lesson was powerfully illustrated a few weeks ago.
I was talking to a neurodivergent friend on a zoom call and he did a quick exercise with me. He wrote a letter on a piece of paper and held it up so that I could see it. He asked me to tell him what the letter was. I said, ‘p’. He said, ‘no, it’s a ‘d’’. I said, ‘the letter you see depends on the perspective you are taking.’ I felt rather smug with myself for coming up with this point. He replied, ‘no, it’s a ‘d’’. Whilst I heard what he said, I still felt that my view was better, although I remained silents. Neurotypical superiority in action!
My friend explained that neurodivergent people are told all the time that they are wrong and that they need to conform to neurotypical views and ways of doing things. In that moment I understood what he said cognitively. It was later upon reflection that I got an inkling of what it might feel to be constantly told that you are wrong. When he repeated, ‘no, it’s a ‘d’’, inside I felt shocked. It felt like a body blow.
If that was how I felt after a tiny interaction, how must it feel to be told that you are wrong numerous times each day....for years.....all your life? Persistently being told that they are wrong, teaches neurodivergent people not to trust themselves. It can affect their mental health, increasing levels of anxiety and/or depression and lower self-esteem. Also, this negation may exacerbate difficulties they have in social interactions as they fear of speaking up, apologise excessively, ask if they are making sense, and so on.
Instead of imposing a neurotypical lens on how to interpret the world, we can suspend our knowing and be curious about the perspective that the neurodivergent person is taking. Seeking to understand them and what is leading them to the ideas, thoughts and feelings they have can unlock new vistas for everyone. We need to create neuroinclusive spaces in which everyone feels; loved and cherished as they are, safe to be themselves in diverse social settings and groups, and able to enter into a genuine dialogue.
In order to do this, we need to take time to get to know the people that we are interacting with beyond the superficial demographic data we are normally aware of. This is facilitated by showing genuine curiosity in others and a willingness to be vulnerable and share aspects of ourselves. Having spacious conversations in this way permits connection and bonds to form between people. The stronger the bond, the increased likelihood that there is the foundation for psychological safety as the levels of understanding and empathy increases. Feeling safe allows us to unmask traits that we believe are undesirable by the majority. Whilst this is not the norm for neurodivergent people it is possible to create neuroinclusive spaces in which they feel more able to be themselves and ask for what they need. And when they don’t it would be useful for all to reflect on themselves, their behaviour etc. that contributed to that situation.
In the example above, I was not conscious that I was feeling superior, but I was. It took a while for that to sink in. I was fortunate enough to be given a glimpse of how some automatic thoughts could lead me to commit microaggressions against neurodivergent individuals. I’m not as wonderful as I presumed and have more work to do.
This is a continual process of being, acting, reflecting and learning. I encourage you to do the same.



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