As someone who’s gone through most of their life not having a voice, I cannot possibly say loud enough how essential it is for young people on the neurodivergent spectrum to learn as soon as possible to BE ASSERTIVE.

I have noticed in many situations, the neurodiverse/disabled one is more or less expected to be the “good/sweet/nice” one (VERY particularly when said individual is female.) I can indeed vouch for what it like to like to get scolded and reprimanded for raising your voice, having an opinion, and/or saying what you feel. Meanwhile, [neurotypical] NT/abled peers are always allowed to act worse and get a free pass. Not only that, in many cases, you’re actually praised for not standing up for yourself!

Why is that? Does it go along with the generalization that disabled/ND individuals are perpetual children, with no true grasp on the larger world, who need to be sheltered because they apparently will never be able to conceptualize society?

I believe in many cases the “grooming” to always be the “nice, good, docile” one in all situations starts the very instant that a child (very particularly if it’s a girl) begins to show the slightest signs of a disability…even before an official diagnosis is made.

Realizing that you have a voice and *must* be able to use it in this world we live in (and that’s not always a “physical” voice” – it can be a hypothetical voice such as a communication device, letterboards, sign language, cards, etc.) can be overwhelming at first. And I’ll say something: if you spent most of your life being the good, sweet, meek one, there are people, tons of them actually, that are very much going to attempt to discourage you once you find your voice. They’re going to try everything in their power to bring back the “you” they were comfortable with, and that’s because they benefited from your passivity and meekness. People are going to guilt trip you, and make you feel as though you’re flawed. You’ll hear it all the time. Don’t let them get to you. They benefitted from the sweet, weak-willed you. They used you for their own gain. But, there *will* be a few that will respect and encourage you once you *do* start speaking up.

I’ll give an example: at my old camp in North Carolina, we were in the camp van, and someone sitting next to me was doing something that was bothering me. Instead of going, “um…hee…hee…” like I would do in such a situation (and remembering the one or two times, back at my old school when I, trembling meekly, attempted to stand up for myself, the “teacher” (not a licensed teacher) would say, “oh Giggles (note: my name was ‘Giggles’ because you know what they say…if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry) you can’t be mean like those guys. You’re so sweet and nice. They’re mean, so it’s okay for them to do those things to you),” I took a deep breath, and said, in my tiny, trembling, timid voice, “ummm…please stop…I don’t like that.”

I instantly braced myself for the explosion to happen. And it happened. But not in the way that I was expected. Instead of the van launching into “You can’t be mean to people like that! You’re too nice! That’s not like you,” one counselor, Addie, exploded into cheers, spun around and high-fived me, and whooped, “Kerry! You GO, tough girl!” And I could see faces all around the van, with huge eyes, their jaws on the floor, shocked, and in a state of disbelief. I heard a voice coming from another camper, “wow…Kerry NEVER tells them!”

And you know who was in the biggest state of shock in the van, out of all those people? Myself. Did I actually just stand up for myself…and not get into trouble? Moreover, was I actually *praised* for standing up for myself?

So, suffice it to say: I’ve realized that contrary to what I have been told most of my life, anger and passion are indeed good emotions to have to a moderate extent. It’s good to have an outlet to channel your anger, your rage, your passion, and use it to change the world. And a good part of this is learning self-advocacy, and advocacy for the disabled/neurodiverse communities in general.

Edited from original work of Kerry Perdy