De-escalation is a Neurodivergent Access Need
Bridgette Hamstead
For autistic and otherwise neurodivergent people, traditional crisis response systems often fail us at the exact moment we most need support. The assumption that help should only come after someone is already in visible distress ignores the reality of how neurodivergent distress builds, manifests, and can be prevented. De-escalation is often treated as a reactive tool used by professionals once a person has reached a point of perceived danger or disruption. But for neurodivergent people, especially those living with a history of trauma, systemic marginalization, or chronic invalidation, de-escalation must be proactive, preventative, and available long before distress becomes visible to others. It is not simply a technique for others to use on us. It is a form of access we deserve to have built into the systems we live within.
The way autistic people experience distress is often misunderstood through a neurotypical lens. While a neurotypical person in crisis may express panic or upset in ways that others recognize as urgent, an autistic person may withdraw, go silent, mask harder, stim more, or shut down completely. These signs are frequently missed or misinterpreted as defiance, disengagement, or noncompliance. As a result, we are often not believed when we say we are not okay. By the time we are visibly distressed, we are already past the point where we feel safe or able to self-regulate. And when others do respond, the response is often coercive, confrontational, or designed to control rather than support. This mismatch causes harm and deepens the trauma of being misunderstood.
In schools, autistic children are frequently punished rather than supported when they become dysregulated. Instead of receiving sensory regulation tools or emotional co-regulation, they are isolated, restrained, or disciplined. In workplaces, neurodivergent adults are seen as difficult or unprofessional when they begin to burn out or need time away from overstimulating environments. Their behavior is rarely read as a need for de-escalation, and often leads to job loss, demotion, or reputational harm. In mental health and medical systems, distress in autistic people is routinely misdiagnosed or pathologized. Shutdowns are labeled as depression, overstimulation is mistaken for anxiety, and dissociation is misunderstood entirely. Neurodivergent people are too often offered compliance training when what we need is compassion.
These failures are compounded by the fact that many crisis response systems are built around control and surveillance rather than care. Whether in the form of school resource officers, workplace HR interventions, or public safety responses, the default approach to someone in visible distress is often to remove, isolate, or contain them. For neurodivergent people, this creates enormous risk. Our natural behaviors may be read as erratic or threatening. Our meltdowns may be seen as aggression. Our shutdowns may be viewed as refusal to cooperate. This is especially dangerous for neurodivergent people of color, gender-diverse individuals, and those who have already been marginalized or criminalized by other systems. When we cannot access de-escalation tools that are designed with our neurotypes in mind, we are left vulnerable to harm.
De-escalation for neurodivergent people must begin long before crisis. It means creating environments that reduce the likelihood of crisis in the first place. It includes access to sensory-friendly spaces, nonjudgmental communication, and autonomy over how and when we engage. It means being able to take breaks without fear of punishment, to stim without shame, and to set boundaries that will be respected. It means being believed when we say we need to step away or that something feels overwhelming. And it means having access to people who are trained to recognize the early signs of neurodivergent distress, not just those who respond after the fact.
Many neurodivergent people already know what we need to regulate and feel safe. We know what helps us calm down, what environments reduce our stress, and what words offer support rather than pressure. But we are rarely given the space to access these things without judgment. We are told to push through, to try harder, to act normal. And when we do fall apart, we are often blamed for not asking for help in the right way. But asking for help should not require decoding a social script we were never given. It should not require masking our way to safety.
A trauma-informed approach to de-escalation recognizes that behavior is communication, and that all people deserve dignity, safety, and respect regardless of how they show distress. For neurodivergent people, this means recognizing that what looks calm on the outside may be collapse on the inside. It means understanding that what looks defiant may actually be the last line of self-protection. It means offering support before the situation escalates, not after. And it means honoring the different ways neurodivergent people communicate need, even when those ways do not match typical expectations.
De-escalation is not about calming someone down so they are easier to manage. It is about creating conditions in which they do not need to escalate in the first place. For neurodivergent people, that might mean dimmer lights, quiet spaces, choices about communication methods, or the freedom to leave and return without explanation. It might mean the presence of a trusted person, the ability to stim freely, or simply being allowed to feel what we feel without being punished for it. These are not luxuries. They are necessary components of safety, and they are just as important as any formal accommodation.
The systems we rely on for support must be rebuilt to reflect the needs and lived experiences of neurodivergent people. This includes training not just in de-escalation techniques but in neurodiversity-affirming principles. It requires listening to neurodivergent voices, especially those who have been harmed by existing crisis responses. And it demands a cultural shift away from compliance as the goal and toward safety, trust, and care.
De-escalation is not a service reserved for moments of emergency. It is an access need, a form of preventative care, and a pathway to liberation. When we recognize that neurodivergent people deserve support before we fall apart, we take a step toward a more just, compassionate, and responsive world. The goal is not to stop distress from ever happening. The goal is to make sure no one has to go through it alone, afraid, or misunderstood. That is what true access looks like. And that is the future we must build.
Common Signs of Neurodivergent Distress That Are Often Misunderstood:
Going nonverbal or experiencing delayed speech
Increased or repetitive stimming (rocking, pacing, hand movements, etc.)
Withdrawing, hiding, or avoiding eye contact
Speaking bluntly or seeming emotionally “flat”
Masking more intensely while internally shutting down
Asking to leave a space, cancel a task, or disengage from conversation
Meltdowns, shutdowns, or dissociative responses
Sudden irritability, overwhelm, or visible discomfort in sensory-rich environments
Proactive Supports to Prevent Escalation:
Access to low-stimulation or quiet spaces without needing to ask
Freedom to take breaks or step away without punishment or explanation
Sensory tools and regulation items (noise-canceling headphones, fidget tools, weighted items)
Flexible communication options (text-based, written, AAC, or delayed response time)
Predictable routines with warning of changes
Consent-based interaction, including the option to opt out of eye contact or physical touch
Respect for self-soothing behaviors and body-based regulation
What Trauma-Informed, Neurodivergent-Affirming De-escalation Looks Like:
Believing someone when they say they are overwhelmed, even if they seem “calm”
Using a calm, non-judgmental tone without pressure to immediately respond
Allowing silence and honoring processing time
Avoiding physical intervention or forced proximity unless someone requests support
Offering choices and control rather than commands or ultimatums
Focusing on restoring a sense of safety, not enforcing compliance
Recognizing that escalation is often a last resort, not a behavioral problem
Understanding de-escalation as a neurodivergent access need requires us to shift from reactive thinking to proactive care. It asks us to see distress not as something that erupts suddenly or without cause, but as something shaped by the environments, expectations, and systems we move through every day. Neurodivergent people are often asked to endure discomfort in silence until we can no longer contain it, and then are blamed for the inevitable fallout. But we deserve more than damage control. We deserve support that honors the ways we regulate, communicate, and protect ourselves before a situation becomes a crisis.
Creating a truly inclusive world means designing systems that prevent escalation rather than simply managing it. It means believing neurodivergent people when we say we are overwhelmed, even if that overwhelm does not look the way others expect it to. It means asking how we can offer safety before we offer solutions. When we center trauma-informed, neurodiversity-affirming approaches to de-escalation, we affirm that neurodivergent people are not problems to be fixed but people worthy of care, compassion, and dignity at every stage of our emotional experience.