The Word Everyone Uses But Nobody Can Define: Why Neurodivergent Is Causing Problems

The Word Everyone Uses But Nobody Can Define

Youve seen it in LinkedIn bios, heard it in workplace diversity training, and probably used it yourself in casual conversation. “Neurodivergent” has become the go-to term for describing brains that work differently. It sounds inclusive, modern, and kind. Theres just one problem: nobody—not even the scientists studying it—can agree on what it actually means.

A new review published in The Conversation reveals that even academics are deeply divided on what “neurodivergent” covers. Researchers from the University of Southampton examined 134 scientific studies involving over 151,000 participants, mostly in the UK and US. Their goal was simple: find out which specific diagnoses are actually linked to the terms “neurodivergent” and “neurodiverse.”

What they found was messier than anyone expected.

Nearly 20 Diagnoses Under One Umbrella

The research team identified almost 20 different diagnoses connected to the neurodivergence label. Autism and ADHD topped the list, which probably wont surprise you. Dyslexia and dyspraxia followed close behind.

But then things got strange. Anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and even neurological conditions like stroke or traumatic brain injury also appeared under the same umbrella.

Stop and think about that for a moment. Someone recovering from a stroke and someone with ADHD might both be labeled “neurodivergent” in a research study. Their experiences, needs, and appropriate treatments couldnt be more different.

“The support that helps an autistic person is not the same as the support that helps someone with anxiety,” the researchers point out. “These are different conditions with different needs.”

When Words Get Mixed Up

The confusion doesnt stop at which diagnoses count. Nearly one in five studies used “neurodivergent” or “neurodiverse” without naming any diagnosis at all. A third simply asked participants to self-identify as neurodivergent rather than using formal clinical assessment.

And heres something that might surprise you: many studies mixed up “neurodivergent” and “neurodiverse,” even though these words mean completely different things.

Neurodiversity describes the natural variation in how human brains work. Its a group concept. Its correct to say society is neurodiverse. But you cant call one person “neurodiverse” any more than you can call one person “biodiverse.”

Neurodivergent describes an individual whose brain works differently from whats considered typical. But heres the catch—nobody agrees on how to define or measure that difference. Doctors have established criteria for diagnosing ADHD or autism. Theres no test that separates “neurodivergent” from “neurotypical.”

Why This Matters Beyond Academic Nitpicking

The neurodiversity movement grew from decades of activism by people with conditions like autism, ADHD, and dyslexia. They fought for terminology that felt kinder and more human than clinical labels. Thats a worthy goal, and the terms have genuinely helped people find community and identity.

Theres nothing wrong with someone saying “I think I am neurodivergent.” Personal identity is personal.

But when vague labels replace precise diagnoses in clinical research, healthcare, and education, problems follow.

If a study only says its participants are “neurodivergent,” how do you interpret the results? How do you apply those findings to actual patient care? A workplace policy built around “neurodivergence” might sound wonderfully inclusive—but it can end up too broad to actually help anyone.

Theres also a subtle stigma risk. Its true that everyones brain works differently. But that truth can slide into “everyone is a bit neurodivergent,” which quickly becomes “were all a bit ADHD” or “a bit autistic.” For people with established diagnoses, whose daily experiences are often profoundly different, that kind of thinking feels dismissive.

What Should We Do Instead?

The researchers arent calling for abandoning these terms. They serve a real purpose for identity and shared experience. But in clinical research, healthcare, and education—settings where decisions about support and treatment get made—clear, recognized clinical diagnoses serve people better than catch-all labels.

Autism is not ADHD. ADHD is not anxiety. Dyslexia is not PTSD. Each has its own features, its own challenges, its own appropriate support.

When we blur those distinctions, we dont become more inclusive. We become less useful to the very people were trying to help.

The next time you see “neurodivergent” used as a catch-all, ask yourself: what specific condition are we actually talking about? The answer might matter more than you think.

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