Stop Co-opting Neurodiversity to Sell Your Company Culture

Bridgette Hamstead

In recent years, the term “neurodiversity” has made its way into corporate branding, hiring initiatives, social media campaigns, and workplace inclusion strategies. At first glance, this seems like progress. A word that was once confined to academic and grassroots circles is now being used in glossy marketing materials and polished HR handbooks. Companies declare that they value neurodiversity, post celebratory infographics during Autism Acceptance Month, and sometimes even launch dedicated hiring programs aimed at so-called “neurodiverse talent.” But behind these polished statements, many neurodivergent people are left asking the same question: where is the actual inclusion?

The co-opting of neurodiversity language has become a public relations strategy rather than a meaningful commitment to equity. Too often, companies invoke neurodiversity not to improve conditions for autistic and ADHD employees but to present themselves as innovative, forward-thinking, and socially conscious. It becomes a buzzword used to signal progressiveness without any of the messy, sustained work of systemic change. What is left is a hollow brand of inclusion that centers company image over neurodivergent lives.

One of the most common examples of this dynamic is the neurodiversity hiring initiative. These programs often recruit autistic or ADHD applicants for specific roles, typically in tech or data-heavy fields, and promote the effort as a win for both inclusion and innovation. But when you examine the structure of these programs, a pattern emerges. The focus is almost always on hiring, not on retention. There is rarely adequate support in place to ensure that once neurodivergent employees are brought in, they are able to stay, thrive, and lead. Accessibility measures are often superficial or incomplete. Cultural expectations remain rigid. Performance is still measured through neurotypical standards of communication, productivity, and collaboration. The message is clear: we want you here, but only if you can act like everyone else.

Companies that claim to value neurodiversity must be willing to confront the deeper question of access. True neurodiversity inclusion does not begin or end with hiring. It requires examining every part of the system. Are meetings structured in a way that supports different communication styles? Is sensory regulation considered in the physical workspace? Are flexible deadlines, asynchronous collaboration, and low-stimulation environments available without punishment or stigma? Are neurodivergent people in leadership roles, or are they only invited in as junior staff and kept out of decision-making? Is feedback delivered in a way that respects cognitive processing differences? Are rest and decompression treated as valid needs, or are they quietly penalized? These are the markers of true inclusion. And they are usually missing from corporate conversations about neurodiversity.

The misuse of neurodiversity language also flattens the richness and complexity of neurodivergent identity. Companies often reduce neurodivergent people to potential assets for innovation, out-of-the-box thinking, or problem-solving. While many of us are indeed creative and skilled, this commodification reduces us to what we can offer rather than who we are. It frames neurodivergent existence through the lens of utility and exceptionalism. Those who do not fit the high-achieving stereotype are left out entirely. This creates a harmful binary where only certain types of neurodivergent people are seen as valuable, and the rest are ignored, dismissed, or quietly excluded.

Even worse, many companies that publicly celebrate neurodiversity fail to protect their neurodivergent employees from harm within the workplace. Autistic and ADHD people are disproportionately impacted by workplace bullying, discrimination, and retaliation. We are often punished for advocating for ourselves, labeled as difficult or noncompliant when we request accommodations, or penalized for differences in tone, affect, or body language. Despite the positive branding, many neurodivergent employees are navigating environments that are not only inaccessible but actively harmful. The rhetoric of inclusion becomes a cover for continued ableism.

When companies promote neurodiversity without systemic follow-through, they are not just failing to include us. They are using our identities to polish their image while leaving us unsupported, underrepresented, and underprotected. This is not inclusion. It is exploitation. It is appropriation dressed up as progress.

For companies that truly want to support neurodivergent people, the work is not glamorous. It looks like listening to neurodivergent employees without defensiveness. It looks like offering paid rest time during burnout, rethinking traditional hierarchies, overhauling performance metrics, and addressing workplace bullying with real consequences. It looks like dismantling the culture of urgency and perfectionism that rewards neurotypical behavior while penalizing divergence. It looks like inviting neurodivergent people not just to participate but to lead, to shape policy, to redesign the system from the inside.

Neurodiversity is not a brand. It is a lived reality. It comes with pain, joy, contradiction, and complexity. It comes with needs that will not be met by feel-good messaging or curated hashtags. It deserves more than lip service. It deserves deep, ongoing, relational work grounded in the actual experiences of neurodivergent people.

If your company claims to value neurodiversity, then your neurodivergent employees should be able to say the same. Not because they are exceptional. Not because they are grateful. But because they are genuinely supported, heard, and respected. Anything less is marketing. And we are done being used to sell your image.