Over the last year, the most popular blog post I’ve written has undoubtedly been Brains in motion: Navigating confidence and belonging. It felt like a massive risk at the time, even with an incredibly positive reception.
Amusingly, the motivation for this second post is almost exactly the same as for the first post and follows a particularly busy time. It will, however, be my final post on disability and neurodiversity inclusion (indefinitely), as my sentiment toward writing this post differs from the first.
Still here
I was once given advice along the lines of “just make sure you’re still there to take the next step.” I loved that ‘next step’ could mean different directions, for different people, making different decisions. It also didn’t deter from taking risks but focused on being considered. I’ve carried this advice forward, trying to weigh up risk and impact while anticipating any ‘next steps’ on the horizon I might care about – big or small.
For me, the idea of any next steps is often grounded in hope and the possibility of impact or change. I’ve learnt to (mostly) love grappling with the challenge of learning in/about spaces where I’d never envisioned myself belonging and bringing an extra dash of tenacity to them.
Over time, I’ve realised not all challenges are equal or necessary. I generally use ‘challenge’ as a broad catch-all term and frequently describe enjoying challenges. Some challenges, however, are better described simply as barriers. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, they’re designed to obstruct access.
Challenges
Recently, I experienced two challenges that highlighted this distinction for me. Disability inclusion (somewhat) factored into both. I chose to consider each differently, but felt the weight of being a disabled and neurodivergent leader each time.
The first challenge felt like a barrier. Exclusionary. There was very little I could do to change it beyond accepting that the design limited access. At each stage, I could see alternative options that might have been taken instead.
Next steps? I’m stepping back. That means pulling away from contributions until there’s more foundational change. When I make decisions about where I give my time, I try to consider three factors:
- Impact: Will my efforts have any positive impact?
- Connection: Will I get to connect meaningfully with people?
- Resources: Do I have the capacity, and am I the right person, to contribute to or lead this work?
I don’t compare these factors equally. In this instance, I suspect the resources required of me would severely affect any impact or connection, especially when compared to someone already positioned to influence or drive change in that space.
The second challenge initially felt like a barrier to me, too. I sensed persisting might be worthwhile. It took a lot out of me, but I found ways to navigate it. I needed to recognise where I had the agency to address this challenge (even if imperfectly). As a result, I’ve felt empowered and connected.
Next steps? I’m stepping forward. I’m keen to support my continued engagement and learning. Having positioned myself to build on existing impact, I’m now excited about how I’ll rise to the challenge.
What next?
I’ve written on leadership, impact, belonging, and inclusion over the last few years, among other topics. Often, these posts incorporate lived experience reflections. To my knowledge, they’ve had a positive impact and prompted some reflection and changes in practice.
While this will be my last personal blog post on disability and neurodiversity inclusion, my work in this space isn’t disappearing. It’s only shifting.
I’ll continue it behind the scenes in my formal roles (including volunteer ones). Additionally, there will always be conversations and presentations where experiences are shared and connections are made.
I’m excited about the challenges I’m choosing to step into and accepting barriers I choose to step away from (at least for now).