What It Means to Be a NeuroMinority: Identity and Belonging
Belonging as a neurominority is less about fitting into a single, well-defined group and more about finding moments of mutual recognition.
The Meaning of Belonging as a Neurominority
Identity and the Neuro-Minority Experience
The Concept of "Neurotribes" and Finding One’s People
Conclusion: The Elusive Fluidity of Identity and Belonging
Introduction
I was speaking with my cousin the other day; they are on the AuDHD spectrum too. We were talking about how our views differ on the whole my-diagnosis-saved-my-life-yeah-I-see-what-you-mean-but-I-don’t-want-to-be-reduced-to-a-label conversation.
What does it mean to belong when you are part of a neurominority? Honestly, I’m still not sure how to approach this. Belonging, as I once understood it, means being part of a group, sharing experiences, and feeling at ease in social spaces. But since neurodivergent brains process the world differently from most people’s, the idea of belonging undoubtedly becomes a bit more complicated.
It’s possible to be surrounded by others yet feel entirely alone and misunderstood in ways that words fail to capture. I have also felt deep belonging in moments where I wasn't physically with anyone—when reading someone else's words and recognising myself in them, when encountering a perspective that aligns with mine in ways I didn’t think possible. There is something profoundly reassuring about knowing that somewhere, even if I never meet them, others exist who get it. This kind of belonging is not necessarily about personal relationships but about being seen—about existing in someone else’s mind as something that makes sense.
But does recognition alone shape identity? Being part of a neurominority is not just about internal experience; it is also something that is projected onto us. We are often categorised, labelled, sometimes welcomed into communities and other times reduced to stereotypes. As much as finding others like us can be comforting, identity remains a complex and shifting thing.
In NeuroTribes, Steve Silberman introduced the idea that neurodivergent people tend to form their own "tribes," seeking others who share their ways of thinking. But how does one find a "tribe" when neurodivergence is so diverse? Can belonging be built on similarity alone, or is it more about mutual recognition?
In this post, I explore the points of contact between identity and belonging as a neurominority. How does being part of a neurodivergent community shape our sense of self? What does it mean to belong when one’s experience of the world is fundamentally different? And can we find a tribe while still holding onto our individuality?
The Meaning of Belonging as a Neurominority
Belonging is often described as a feeling of being part of a group that understands you, being part of a space where you don’t have to explain yourself at every turn. It’s a space where you seem to fit in naturally. In my view, this definition is a pale capture of what belonging really is.
Belonging is not just about sharing experiences; it is about sharing ways of perceiving, processing, relating and responding to the world. It is intangible and evanescent. It’s about tuning in ways that transcend the social aspects of sharing a space of common understanding. Belonging exists in small moments of recognition: the relief of hearing someone describe a thought pattern you’ve always had but never put into words, the deep comfort of knowing your struggles are not just personal quirks but shared traits. Sometimes, belonging is less about actively participating in a community and more about the quiet reassurance that a community exists somewhere, even if we never directly engage with it.
“I belong to the eyes that see me.”
At the same time, the search for belonging can be complicated by the fact that neurodivergence itself is highly individual. No two autistic, dyslexic, or ADHD minds work exactly the same way—not even mentioning the AuDHD minds, which work even differently. Even within neurodivergent spaces, there can be moments of alienation—when we don’t quite fit into the collective narrative, when our particular blend of traits doesn’t fully align with the dominant experiences of a group. This raises an important question: is belonging about sameness, or is it about being accepted in our complexity?
There is a first paradox here that is specific to neurodivergent people: While recognition can bring relief, it can also bring discomfort. To be acknowledged as neurodivergent is to be placed within a category, and categories come with assumptions. Sometimes, how we are perceived does not match how we perceive ourselves. Finding belonging, then, is not just about finding others who share our traits—it is about finding spaces where we can be fully ourselves without being reduced to a single label.
Identity and the Neuro-Minority Experience
Identity is no less complex, but one thing is for sure: It is never formed in isolation. It is shaped by how we see ourselves, how others see us, and how we navigate the spaces between. Indeed, for those of us in neurominority groups, this shaping process is often complicated by a tension between the internal experience of our neurotype and the external perception of it (Botha et al., 2020, as cited in Botha & Gillespie-Lynch, 2022).
On one hand, discovering that we belong to a neurominority can be a profound moment of self-understanding. It gives language and grammar to experiences that may have previously felt disjointed or inexplicable. Many neurodivergent individuals describe the moment of diagnosis (or self-recognition) as a turning point—a shift from feeling "wrong" or "defective" to realising they are simply wired differently. Identity, in this sense, is empowering. It allows us to make sense of ourselves in ways that were previously unavailable.
But identity is also projected onto us, whether we like it or not. Being recognised as part of a neuro-minority means being categorised—by medical systems, by institutions, by society. This recognition can bring validation, but it can also bring misinterpretation. People might assume that because we share a label, we must share the same traits, struggles, or needs. The label that grants us visibility can also flatten us into a stereotype.
Then there is the question of community. The idea of a shared neurodivergent identity is both comforting and complex. While finding others who think and perceive the world in similar ways can feel like coming home, there is no single "neurodivergent experience." Autism, ADHD, dyslexia, and other forms of neurodivergence manifest differently in each individual. Even within the same diagnostic category, personal histories, coping mechanisms, and external circumstances create vastly different realities. Hence, the importance of investigating our identity within ourselves and beyond diagnoses. So what does it mean to claim a collective identity when our experiences are so varied?
Perhaps identity as a neurominority is best understood not as a fixed state, but as something fluid—an ongoing process of negotiation between self-perception, external perception, and the spaces of recognition we find in between.
The Concept of "Neurotribes" and Finding One’s People
Steve Silberman, in NeuroTribes, introduced the idea that neurodivergent people often form their own “tribes”—communities where they can connect with others who share similar cognitive and sensory experiences. The concept is appealing because it suggests that rather than being isolated anomalies in a neurotypical world, we are part of a broader, historical continuum of neurodivergent individuals who have always existed. It reframes neurodivergence not as a deficit but as a different way of being, one that has value and can thrive in the right conditions.
The idea of a neurotribe resonates deeply with the search for belonging. There is a profound relief in finding people who share one’s sensory sensitivities, processing styles, or cognitive rhythms. Many neurodivergent individuals describe the experience of encountering their “tribe” as one of deep recognition—where explanations are unnecessary and where their ways of thinking, feeling, and being in the world are intuitively understood.
And yet, the notion of a neurotribe is not without its challenges because neurodivergence is vast and varied; what makes one person feel at home in a neurodivergent space might make another feel alienated. For example, being an AuDHDer, I can sometimes be overwhelmed when talking with my autistic fellows who prefer highly structured environments and conversations. Likewise, I find myself quickly struggling with overwhelm when hanging out with my ADHDer cousin, who thrives in fast-paced, high-stimulation situations. A shared label does not always guarantee shared experience.
There is also the risk of treating neurodivergence as a monolithic identity rather than a multidimensional spectrum of diverse experiences. If the goal of finding a neurotribe is to escape the pressures of fitting into neurotypical spaces, then creating rigid expectations within neurodivergent spaces can become another kind of constraint.
Perhaps, then, the search for belonging is less about finding a single “tribe” and more about embracing multiple overlapping spaces of connection. True belonging might not come from fitting neatly into a predefined group but from finding those moments of mutual recognition—whether in neurodivergent spaces, creative communities, intellectual circles, or simply in the quiet understanding of another person who just gets it.
Conclusion: The Elusive Fluidity of Identity and Belonging
We often talk about belonging and identity as if they were fixed horizons—places where we finally set down our bags once we've found the right people, the proper labels, the right community. But for us, neuro-minorities, these notions are far more fluid. Our sense of identity and place shifts across intersecting neural divergences. It is shaped by self-discovery, external recognition, and the spaces in which we seek connection.
Finding one’s place as a neuro-minority is not always about a perfect fit. It’s not about discovering a single tribe where we seamlessly belong, nor is it about embracing a fixed identity that fully accounts for the complexity of our experiences. Instead, it’s about those fleeting moments of recognition—the relief of finally being understood, seen, and acknowledged, the quiet assurance that we are not alone, the awareness that somewhere, someone shares a part of our reality.
Perhaps belonging is not about finding a permanent home, but about realising that home can exist in many places at once. It can be found in neurodivergent spaces (or even beyond them), in creative exchanges, in deep conversations with like-minded individuals, in a movie scene where we suddenly feel profoundly connected to the reality portrayed through a character, or even in a book that puts into words something we have always felt but never knew how to express.
And maybe that is enough. To know that we exist in someone else’s mind, even if we have never met them. To know that we do not have to explain ourselves all the time. To know that, in all our contradictions and complexities, we are seen across space and time.
References
Botha, M., & Frost, D. M. (2020). Extending the Minority Stress Model to Understand Mental Health Problems Experienced by the Autistic Population. Society and Mental Health, 10(1), 20-34. https://doi.org/10.1177/2156869318804297
Botha, M., & Gillespie-Lynch, K. (2022). Come as You Are: Examining Autistic Identity Development and the Neurodiversity Movement through an Intersectional Lens. Human Development, 66(2), 93-112. https://doi.org/10.1159/000524123