How Ableism Sees the Body: The Politics of Neurodivergent Movement and Expression
Bridgette Hamstead
In a world shaped by neurotypical norms, the body itself becomes a site of surveillance, misinterpretation, and control. For neurodivergent people, particularly autistic and ADHD individuals, everyday forms of embodiment are frequently pathologized, misunderstood, or punished. The way we move, the way we sit, the cadence of our speech, our facial expressions, our posture, and our reactions are scrutinized not simply for what they communicate but for how far they deviate from an expected norm. This is not a benign social mismatch. It is a deeply embedded system of ableism that disciplines the body and reinforces exclusion by declaring neurotypical forms of expression as correct and everything else as deficient, inappropriate, or wrong.
Body language is not universal. It is learned, contextual, and culturally specific. Yet many behavioral and psychological frameworks treat neurotypical expressions of communication and emotion as the standard against which all other bodies are measured. Autistic people are often told we lack affect, appear disinterested, or show no empathy simply because our facial expressions do not match social expectations. We may speak in flat tones, avoid eye contact, move our bodies repetitively, or fail to display the kind of mirroring behaviors that are unconsciously rewarded in neurotypical interaction. But none of these behaviors indicate an absence of emotion or connection. They are simply different ways of existing in the world.
The assumption that communication is only legitimate when it is expressed through specific facial cues, tones, or postures is deeply ableist. It ignores the rich internal worlds of people who may communicate in more subtle, delayed, or alternative ways. More than that, it actively penalizes neurodivergent people for being true to ourselves. We are coached to perform emotions we may already feel but do not express in expected ways. We are taught to suppress natural movements, to modulate our voices, to fake eye contact, to smile when we are anxious or overwhelmed. These performances are exhausting and unsustainable. They disconnect us from our bodies and reinforce the idea that our natural ways of existing are unworthy or unwelcome.
This embodied ableism is not just social. It is institutional. In schools, neurodivergent children are punished for fidgeting, rocking, pacing, or not sitting still. These forms of movement, which may be self-regulating or comforting, are framed as disruptive or disrespectful. In the workplace, neurodivergent adults are disciplined or passed over for promotion because they do not display enough enthusiasm, do not make eye contact, or speak in ways that are interpreted as blunt or cold. In medical and mental health settings, providers may misread flat affect or unusual posture as signs of psychiatric illness rather than neurodivergence. The body becomes a battleground, and the cost of noncompliance is exclusion, misdiagnosis, or forced conformity.
Stimming, in particular, is a powerful example of how neurodivergent embodiment is policed. Movements like rocking, flapping, hand-rubbing, or repeating words are often seen as strange or problematic, even when they serve important self-regulatory functions. These behaviors are pathologized in clinical settings and discouraged in public life, despite being harmless or even beneficial to the person doing them. The discomfort these movements create in neurotypical observers is prioritized over the comfort they provide to neurodivergent individuals. This reflects a value system in which appearances matter more than well-being, and conformity is valued over authenticity.
The violence of this system lies not only in how it forces neurodivergent people to mask but in how it demands we inhabit bodies that do not belong to us. We are expected to perform a version of ourselves that looks familiar and palatable to others, even if that performance erodes our mental health and distances us from our needs. The pressure to appear calm, composed, and socially fluent is not a neutral request. It is a demand for erasure. It says, your comfort is not welcome unless it makes others comfortable too.
There is also a deeply gendered and racialized dimension to the policing of neurodivergent bodies. Autistic women, gender-diverse people, and people of color are often judged more harshly for deviations in body language or tone. Black and brown neurodivergent individuals face heightened risks of being labeled as aggressive, defiant, or oppositional when their body language is misunderstood. Gender nonconforming and trans neurodivergent people are often doubly scrutinized, navigating systems that seek to discipline both their neurotype and their gender expression. These intersecting systems of oppression create additional layers of risk and invisibility. The expectation to embody normalcy is not applied evenly, and the consequences of failing to do so are not equally distributed.
To truly support neurodivergent people, we must dismantle the idea that there is one correct way to look, move, or speak. We must shift away from behavioral norms that define personhood through surface-level cues and instead develop a deeper understanding of communication, expression, and regulation. This includes honoring the body as a source of knowledge, not a problem to be fixed. It means creating environments where neurodivergent movement is welcomed rather than shamed, where speech and silence are equally respected, and where presence is measured not by performance but by authenticity.
Neurodivergent liberation requires that we stop treating the body as a site of correction. We must learn to recognize ableism not just in words or systems, but in glances, reactions, and assumptions. We must ask whose comfort is being centered and at what cost. We must understand that policing neurodivergent expression is not about support or inclusion. It is about power. And until we reject that power dynamic, we will continue to force people to choose between their well-being and their belonging.
We need a world where neurodivergent people do not have to flinch, smile, rehearse, or perform in order to be seen as fully human. Our bodies do not need to be translated or subdued to be valid. They tell their own truths, in their own time, in their own language. If we want true inclusion, we must learn to listen with more than our expectations. We must meet people where they are, not where we expect them to be. And we must stop asking anyone to rewrite their body just to be allowed into the room.