The following exchange emerged from discussions concerning the future development and implementation of neurodiversity theory beyond critique alone. The dialogue explores tensions surrounding operationalization, institutional design, relational science, biological reductionism, complexity theory, and the challenges of translating critical neurodiversity frameworks into educational, clinical, and policy contexts. The conversation reflects broader emerging questions within the field regarding whether neurodiversity should function primarily as epistemic critique, or whether it can also generate alternative models of measurement, regulation, and systems design grounded in relational, context-dependent understandings of human variation.
This resonates, and I want to extend it. The epistemic authority question is real, but I think there's a deeper structural problem: the movement has primarily defined itself through opposition (against pathology, against deficit framing) without building the scientific architecture that would make neurodiversity stick beyond identity politics.
The binary was never actually pathology vs. natural diversity. That framing concedes too much. What's missing is a different kind of biological framing—one that treats neurological differences as genuine metabolic trade-offs within complex adaptive systems. Traits shaped by energy allocation and stress calibration, not deficits to remediate.
When we can't articulate what a neurodiversity research agenda would look like as science, not just as social justice critique, institutions fill that vacuum with whatever frameworks they already have. And then we're left fighting extraction without offering an alternative that holds up in medical, educational, and policy contexts.
Leadership matters, yes. But so does having something to lead toward.
Lori Hogenkamp I partially agree. I think the claim that “the movement has primarily defined itself through opposition” requires more nuance. Neurodiversity - as a movement - is not a monolith; it is more accurate to speak of movements rather than a single movement. I would also argue that the “binary” accusation often arises from efforts to reduce neurodiversity to a simplified framework in order to make it more easily dismissible.
Neurodiversity must articulate what it is for, not only what it resists—and yes, institutions do fill theoretical gaps with dominant frameworks. I would argue, however, that this is not due to a lack of scientific foundation, but rather to processes of co-optation and to institutional discomfort with frameworks grounded in marginalized experience. This is precisely why neurodiversity—and specifically critical neurodiversity—explicitly draws on feminist, Black feminist, disability studies, Mad studies, queer studies, and other critical, relational theories and epistemologies. It is not that neurodiversity lacks a foundation; it is that its foundation is decidedly critical.
There is an existing framework grounded in anti-reductionism. What appears as absence is, in fact, an ethical refusal: a refusal of ways “science” has historically been constructed to reinforce dominant norms—not a rejection of biology, but of biological reductionism divorced from context, power, and lived experience. Neurodiversity thus operates as a relational science, one that centers relational ontologies, situated neurobiology, and context-dependent functioning.
Cole Denisen, PhD I think we’re closer than it might appear. I’m not suggesting neurodiversity lacks epistemological foundation—the critical traditions you name are doing real work. My concern is more specific: critical epistemology tells us how to interrogate knowledge claims, but it doesn’t generate the operational architecture that clinicians, educators, and policymakers need to act differently.
“Relational science” and “situated neurobiology” are exactly right as principles. But what does that look like in a reimbursement? Outcome measure? School protocol? When institutions fill the vacuum, it’s not always because they’re uncomfortable with marginalized experience—sometimes it’s they genuinely don’t know what to do with a framework that stays at the level of critique.
The refusal of biological reductionism is warranted. But there’s space between reductionism and mechanism. We can describe metabolic trade-offs, energy allocation patterns, and non-linear stress responses without flattening them into pathology. That’s not conceding ground to dominant paradigms—it’s building new ones that hold up in implementation contexts.
Lori Hogenkamp
The question I keep sitting with: what would it take for neurodiversity to show up in a policy dashboard, not just a position statement?
Affirming difference isn’t the same as measuring traits and energetic costs. When a school district asks what outcomes to track, when a clinic needs reimbursement criteria, “center lived experience” doesn’t translate into cells on a spreadsheet. So institutions default to what they have: symptom counts, behavior checklists, population averages.
What if we built something different? Track energy-recovery patterns rather than symptom frequency. Stratify by neurotype profile rather than averaging across populations. Measure predictability of environments, co-regulation capacity, sensory-ecosystem fit. Use non-monotonic safety bands that expect different responses from different systems.
This isn’t biological reductionism—it’s biological complexity. Context-dependent, profile-specific, relationally embedded. It refuses the old paradigm not by rejecting measurement but by measuring what actually matters for adaptive regulation.
The critical foundation exists. The implementation architecture is what’s missing. IMO
What goes in the cell? Recovery latency. Ultradian rhythm needs. Predictability requirements. Co-regulation access. Sensory-environment fit.
But here’s the deeper shift: these aren’t accommodations for the neurodivergent. Everyone has a neurotype. Everyone has energy-recovery patterns. The reigning narrative—that average is healthy and diversity is disorder we can’t slow down for—doesn’t go away through pushback and demands alone. The whole system has to shift.
And yes, the fact that the neurodiversity movement is fractured, without shared goals or operational understanding, is itself part of the problem. “Not a monolith” isn’t a strength when it means no one can agree on what we’re building toward.