It’s been a month (have I mentioned I’m not very good at social media time?) but I am still thinking about what I learned and experienced at this Summit. I hope that some of the sessions that were recorded will eventually be available for those who were not able to attend so that you can see for yourself. Here were some of my key take aways and some of the people and work that excited me.

Medical, social, and identity models of autism have important things to say to one another. I admit, when I first saw that the conference was connected to a medical school, I wondered if the take on neurodiversity would be primarily about brains and less to do with the social and cultural dimensions that are of more interest to me. Turns out, this was a space in which the insights from each of those models of neurodivergence were put into conversation with one another.

As some of you know, I am writing a book about polyphony: writing or conversations or spaces in which multiple, independent voices can be heard, different ideas and perspectives can sit side by side, and an ongoing conversation doesn’t require closure or resolution. The Summit was that kind of space for me–it made good on its intention to be “a forum for exchange of ideas about neurodiversity among all people. It is a venue where we listen to each other, especially when our views are not the same. This active listening is not just about respect, but an act to grow together as a community.”

A personal connection to your research is OK. I knew this, of course, but I appreciated how many of the speakers articulated how their own neurodivergence or experience with neurodivergence enriched their scholarship, clinical practice, and/or advocacy. Conversely, several speakers also acknowleged the risk and cost of a personal connection to the work you put out into a sometimes hostile world. In my graduate training, we were discouraged from studying anything too close to our experience because it could undermine our objectivity or credibility. I continue to unlearn that lesson, even as I recognize some value in being mindful about how my scholarly knowing and personal knowing converge and diverge.

There are models for neurodiversity affirming educational, clinical, and therapeutic practice. Although it’s over, the Summit program is a useful document for identitying people doing this work in K-12 education, higher education, workplace innovation and accommodation, and clinical contexts. There is also Stanford’s Neurodiverity Resource Database. I met Laura Klinger, for example, who leads the TEACCH program in North Carolina that supports young adults in connecting their own goals with plans and strategies for achieving them. The Stanford Neurodiversity Project encompasses research, training, symposia, and programs that support and empower neurodiverse individuals and train health care providers, educators, and employers in neurodiversity affirming practices. I learned about programs for supporting for neurodivergent students that go “beyond accommodations” at SUNY Empire State’s Center for Autism Advocacy, the Landmark College’s Success Center in California, and the SUNY New Paltz Disability Resource Center. I heard from employers seeking to make their workplaces and hiring processes affirming of neurodivergent strengths. I met parents and artists and storytellers.

We need more dialogue and storytelling. I know and preach this, too, so maybe that’s why one of my favorite panels was moderated by writer and advocate Shannon Rosa and presented by clinicians Stacy Greeter, Kimberly Rust, Alie Bernard Garza, and Charnall Widnall. They began with the questions, “What makes people and systems aligned with pathologizing models hesitant or fearful of adopting neurodiversity affirming perspectives? What do people risk losing by changing their minds?” and then went on to examine research and practice on how to change minds through personal storytelling, slow listening, and perspective taking. They called for becoming “amygdala whisperers” who can avoid activating the strong emotions that prevent people from being able to hear different views and change their minds. They addressed directly the divisions related to autism, allyship, and advocacy and incorporated their own experiences as neurodivergent. My notes are full of quotes: “We need to be authentic but if we’re only angry, we won’t be effective.” “Allyship doesn’t come from persuasion but from connection; connect before your correct.” “Advocacy work is both healing and hurtful to those who engage in it.”

How we measure things matters. Ari Ne’eman and Christina Nicolaidis spoke to the need for better ways of assessing the outcomes of educational programs and therapeutic supports. Both are doing research on the standard measurement tools that are widely used to determine whether a particular program or support “works.” Many of these tools define success as “making you look or act less autistic” rather than supporting autistic needs and facilitating an individual’s success on their own terms. Moreover, many of the “outcomes” that are measured were developed without consulting what autistics and their families say they want or need. For example, “making friends” might well be a goal autistics share and a reasonable outcome to assess; in contract, “make more eye contact” has more to do with masking and complying for neurotypical norms. These changes are essential to shifting the kinds of services that are supported by researchers, by funders, by agencies, by insurance companies so that they become available to people who need them. I was excited about research directed toward supporting and accommodating autistics and their families and toward making a tangible difference in resource allocation.

Thank you to all who hosted this Summit! I am eager to stay connected with some of the people I met and heard speak and to return to next year’s Summit.