ADHD and autism are underdiagnosed across the board. That’s a fact. But for people who are already marginalised—particularly those from Black, Asian, and ethnic minority communities—the gap becomes a chasm.
Too often, we think of neurodiversity through a narrow lens: white, male, middle-class, and outwardly “disruptive.” That outdated stereotype shapes everything from referral patterns to classroom concerns to diagnostic thresholds. As a result, countless individuals—especially Black children and adults—are mislabelled, misdiagnosed, or missed entirely.
BME boys with ADHD traits are more likely to be seen as “aggressive” or “badly behaved” than neurodivergent. BME girls who mask their autism may be praised for being quiet or withdrawn, while their struggles go unnoticed. Adults from minoritised backgrounds often face years of gaslighting and dismissal, with their mental health challenges seen as personal failings, not neurological wiring.
There’s also a trust issue. Historic and ongoing racial bias in healthcare means that many people from minority communities are less likely to seek support, and when they do, they’re less likely to be believed. Cultural stigma around mental health and disability adds yet another layer of silence.
This isn’t just a diagnostic issue—it’s a justice issue. Because when neurodivergent people go unrecognised, they also go unsupported. They’re more likely to face exclusion from school, be overrepresented in the criminal justice system, and experience long-term mental health difficulties—all of which are amplified by systemic racism.
If we want to make neurodiversity-inclusive healthcare a reality, we need to confront these biases head-on. That means listening to lived experiences, improving clinician training, and ensuring our assessments are culturally competent and inclusive.
No one should have to fight to be seen. Least of all the people who’ve already had to fight to be heard.
