Brains in motion: Navigating confidence and belonging

I rarely talk openly about being Autistic. As a multiply neurodivergent and disabled person, I’m proud of my wonderfully nuanced Autistic brain, yet also acutely aware of the risks and assumptions that come with disclosing.

I’ve stepped into new roles and experiences this year, so I’ve been somewhat reflective about my experience of leadership as an Autistic person with tics and an auditory processing difference. While I take a strengths-based approach toward others and myself, irrespective of neurodiversity, I also don’t deny the challenges and vulnerabilities surrounding these experiences and in sharing them.

This month, it’s meant I quickly bounced from significant sensory overload in an airport (wearing noise-cancelling headphones), to having a wonderfully time socialising at a work-related dinner, to enjoying contributing in a meeting (wearing hearing aids).

So, alongside my usual post-work and meeting reflections on where I can improve, I also considered the dynamic, conflicting, and variable nature of this experience.

I experience sensory overload in a way that feels very characteristic of being Autistic, yet I often seek out opportunities that require navigating these sensory differences. I love being around people (and my wife thinks I’m an extrovert in disguise), yet I know many people observe that I’m quietly spoken.

The variability in how I experience my environment and how other people perceive my experience of it can differ greatly, and this inevitably leads to misguided (though sometimes well-meaning) assumptions about what I enjoy, need, or aspire to.

I remember a leadership coaching event very early in my career where I was told that I appeared to lack confidence. This didn’t align with my experience, and I had to piece together the assumptions about how my mannerisms, voice, and speech pattern likely diverged from this person’s expectations of confidence and leadership. There was a conflict between my observations and theirs, leading to certain assumptions.

It took time to realise that comment didn’t match the feedback I received from those who my work and leadership did impact. It was a defining point for me in considering who gets to see themselves represented, and the language we use to frame leadership.

From what I’ve observed, assumptions around confidence also carry into assumptions about belonging, and I suspect capabilities too.

At a dinner earlier this year, someone told me ‘I belonged.’ They probably didn’t realise how much it meant to hear this. When studying librarianship, I still remember a study visit where an LIS professional listed the characteristics of who would be successful in libraries. It was, effectively, framed as a list of who was wanted or belonged in the LIS profession, and I know I’m not the only person who had that experience.

Based on that list, I couldn’t belong, contribute, or succeed.

In libraries, we love to include belonging as a service expectation and, perhaps, assume that carries over to belonging in the LIS profession. We conflate the two, without recognising the potential for disingenuous values and outcomes.

While I often mask being Autistic, camouflaging when needed for safety, I also plan to stim, tic, and move through my professional life passionately. We have evidence of the immense impact and the intersectional consequences masking has on neurominorities – and I don’t want to carry that forward with me or see others experience it.

I experience the world with a brain that feels like it’s in constant motion, and it’s only through leveraging differences that I’ve truly learnt to embrace that. It’s a shift toward joy, nuance, and authenticity that I hope to continue to be a part of.