The Word Neurodivergent Is Everywhere. Science Says We Still Dont Know What It Means.
Youve seen it on LinkedIn. Youve heard it in HR meetings. Maybe youve even used it yourself, casually, to describe a friend, a colleague, or your own swirling, nonlinear mind. “Neurodivergent” has become the Swiss Army knife of identity labels—handy, inclusive, and vague enough to fit almost anyone.
But what if the knife is too dull to cut anything meaningful?
A new review published in JAMA Psychiatry has some uncomfortable news for anyone whos been leaning on the term. After analyzing 134 scientific studies involving more than 151,000 participants—mostly in the U.K. and U.S.—researchers found that even academics cant agree on what “neurodivergent” actually means. And thats not just a semantic headache. It has real consequences for how we support people in schools, clinics, and workplaces.
The Term That Ate Every Diagnosis
The study, led by Alessio Bellato and Samuele Cortese, set out to map exactly which clinical diagnoses get lumped under the neurodivergence umbrella. The results were messy. Nearly 20 different diagnoses appeared in the research, with autism and ADHD leading the pack. But anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, dyslexia, dyspraxia—even stroke and traumatic brain injury—also showed up.
Thats a problem. A person recovering from a stroke and a person with ADHD may both struggle with focus, but their needs, their trajectories, and the support that helps them are radically different. Grouping them under one label doesnt just blur the picture. It can erase it.
One in five studies used the terms “neurodivergent” or “neurodiverse” without naming any diagnosis at all. A third simply asked participants to self-identify, rather than relying on formal clinical assessment. And some studies even confused “neurodivergent” with “neurodiverse”—two terms that, despite sounding interchangeable, mean very different things.
Neurodiversity Is a Group. Neurodivergence Is a Person.
Heres the distinction that keeps getting lost. Neurodiversity refers to the natural variation in how human brains work, think, and learn. Its a property of a population, like biodiversity. You wouldnt call a single person “biodiverse.” Similarly, its incorrect to call one individual “neurodiverse.” A society can be neurodiverse. A person can be neurodivergent—meaning their brain works differently from whats considered typical.
But theres the rub: nobody agrees on what “typical” means, or how to measure the difference. Doctors can test for ADHD or autism using established criteria. There is no test for “neurodivergent.” Its a useful identity label, but a lousy clinical category.
Why This Matters Beyond the Ivory Tower
The neurodiversity movement has done tremendous good. For decades, autistic people and others with neurodevelopmental conditions have fought for rights, inclusion, and language that doesnt pathologize their existence. Words like “neurodivergent” grew out of that activism, and theyve given people a way to describe their experiences without being reduced to a diagnosis.
Theres nothing wrong with saying, “I think I am neurodivergent.” Personal identity is personal. But in research, health care, and education, vagueness is dangerous.
Imagine a workplace policy built around “neurodivergence.” It sounds progressive. But if it doesnt specify which conditions it covers, it can end up too broad to help anyone. The support that helps an autistic person regulate sensory overload is not the same as the support that helps someone with anxiety manage panic attacks. Broad labels hide those details.
The same goes for clinical research. If a study only reports that its participants are “neurodivergent,” how do we interpret the results? How do we know which treatment works for whom? When that research shapes clinical care, the stakes get higher.
The Everyone Is a Bit ADHD Trap
Theres another risk, subtler but just as damaging: dilution. Its true that all brains work differently. But when we slide from “everyone is neurodiverse” to “everyone is a bit neurodivergent” to “were all a bit ADHD,” we flatten real disability into a quirky personality trait.
For people with an established diagnosis, thats not just annoying. Its unfair. Their day-to-day experience—the sensory overwhelm, the executive dysfunction, the social exhaustion—is often profoundly different from those without a diagnosis. Treating neurodivergence as a universal quirk trivializes that struggle.
What We Actually Need
None of this means we should abandon the words. “Neurodiversity” and “neurodivergence” are valuable for describing identity and shared experience. Theyve helped build community and push back against stigma.
But in clinical research, health care, and education, clear, recognized diagnoses serve people better. If a study wants to include autistic people and people with ADHD, it should say so. If a workplace wants to support neurodivergent employees, it should ask what specific support they need—not assume a one-size-fits-all label will do the job.
The takeaway? Language is powerful, but its not a substitute for precision. The next time you hear “neurodivergent” used as a catch-all, ask yourself: who is being included, and who is being erased?
Because a label that fits everyone might just fit no one at all.
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Mike Brown
Mike Brown – One of those authors who helps readers not get lost in today's news flow. He dives into political affairs as well as world events, social trends, and everyday stories that matter to everyone. The main focus of his work is fact-checking, clear language, and the ability to lay out the key points so that the reader gets a comprehensive and reliable picture of the topic in just a few minutes.
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