A Neurodivergent-Inclusive Word to Facilitators
Making your Conscious Dance + Personal Development Workshop Spaces more Accessible
I’ve been talking to other neurodivergent folk who read my recent article,
I was surprised by how much conversation this article, which I thought very specific to my own experience, has generated.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised that two of the themes I talked about, inclusivity and belonging, are relevant to so many of us.
I ended the article with a call to facilitators of conscious dance and other personal development spaces to educate themselves about neurodiversity so that their spaces can be more inclusive.
It’s important to remember that however much ‘permission’ and ‘authenticity’ is encouraged, these are environments in which there is a power relationship and where participants have little control, needing to adapt to whatever is going on. Those of us who are autistic or have other neurodivergences, including CPTSD, have sensory sensitivities and needs that can make this a big stretch.
For participants, this can be a challenge worth navigating and getting more fluent in. I have found huge value in learning how to stay empowered in group situations, taking responsibility for my own self-awareness of my needs and boundaries. At the same time, we need awareness and support from facilitators to make this experience of empowerment more accessible and to normalise neurodiversity.
After some reflection, here are a few ideas on how this could look:
1) Support partnering to be more inclusive
I have been to conscious dance classes where it has felt more like a dating scene (or ‘meat market’, as the crude expression goes’) than a space to move and meet as our authentic selves. The invitation to partner at specific points prompts people to cast their eyes around the room for the person they most want to connect with. Often, the young, attractive, outwardly confident people pair up and others, who fit outside our society’s norms of beauty and social presentation, are skirted around.
Even without saying a word, neurodivergent people are often read, on a body language and posture level, as ‘different’. Studies (such as this one and this one) have shown that negative attitudes towards autistic people, and social exclusion as a result, are a real problem.
One neurodivergent person I talked with found it helpful for the teacher to say something like, “Don’t go out of your way to find someone, just choose who’s in front of you.” I also find it a relief when a teacher says this, because I don’t have to headf*ck about who to choose, whether I’ll be chosen, and whether I’ll be rejected.
There’s a simple trust and flow in this. Of course, consent remains paramount and everyone should feel able to say no if it’s really someone they feel uncomfortable or unsafe to partner with. This is something that could perhaps be explained at the beginning of workshops, but is more difficult to do in classes, where the atmosphere is more casual and dancers tend to drift in over a period of half an hour.
Some teachers gather the dancers in a circle for some basic guidelines and instructions after the half-hour warmup and after the doors have closed. But this can also be an unwelcome interruption to those who, like myself, have just started to get into our own self-connection in the dance.
2) Turn instructions into invitations
A lot of facilitators do this already. Typically, they are those who are more ‘trauma-aware’ and know that people who have experienced boundary violations through abuse particularly need to feel at choice about what they do. Abuse survivors are also more likely to override their own boundaries if they are told to do something by someone in power.
I think this is just as relevant for those of us who are neurodivergent — and the overlap between neurodivergence and trauma is also a fascinating topic of investigation, beyond the scope of this article.
This way of wording instructions could sound like, “If it feels right, take a partner,” rather than “Now take a partner”. This gives everyone an opportunity to feel into what they want in that moment. I would suggest following this up with a suggestion that is also relevant to those who have chosen not to partenr.
For e.g., one 5Rhythms teacher I know will say, “If you’re dancing alone, dance with the space as if it’s your partner.” Otherwise, those of us who feel more aligned with staying in a solo dance are more likely to feel left behind and left out. The rest of the group goes on a journey we are not part of, because all of the following instructions are irrelevant to us.
3) Give people the benefit of the doubt with their ‘ways in’ to the dance
Some of us need space and time before we can fully engage. My request would be to let us be, and don’t come into our space to tell us how we should be doing this. Obviously, if someone is looking really distressed, you might want to offer support, but this can be done in a respectful way, asking permission (e.g., keeping a certain distance and no hands on the body unless invited).
A neurodivergent friend (autistic/ADHD) told me that a conscious dance teacher would regularly tell him to get back on the dancefloor when he had stepped out for a short period of time. Strong sensory issues can impact our experience and I don’t think it’s helpful to assume that someone is just ‘not engaging’ and needs a push back in. A particular song or style of music, for example, may be experienced as a painful sensory assault and stepping back is needed to self-regulate.
In personal development workshops, I have experienced being forced to go back in and continue hugging during a hugging exercise in which I became overwhelmed (after 10 minutes of long hugs with various people).
I’ve come to trust that I know when I am just ‘resisting’ and avoiding my growth edges, and when I am needing to self-regulate because I’m dangerously close to being out of my window of tolerance. I wish the facilitators had been able to trust me to do that.
4) Give regular movement breaks between bouts of stillness
This one is for personal development workshops (or any workshops!) where a lot of sitting and listening or concentrating is required. At a recent tantra week-long workshop, I observed how those of us who were neurodivergent (or suspected we were) looked to be in physical pain after an hour-long sharing circle or by mid-way through hours-long ceremonial touch processes. Some of us, hitting desperation point, were getting up to stretch and walk around while the proceedings went on.
There are two key strains on the system of someone with ADHD and, in many cases, autism, in those kinds of settings. One is the sensory stimulation and executive function elements of prolonged listening. Taking in everyone’s words and body language, and dealing with all the (often high velocity) thoughts evoked in our own minds takes a lot more from us than it does from neurotypical brains. Quite simply, we reach capacity — feeling ‘full up’ — much sooner than others.
The other strain is the proprioception factor. If our bodies are still for too long, in the same position, it can be more difficult for us to feel our bodies and stay connected. This gets very uncomfortable and almost unbearable at times. “Many Autistic and ADHD people crave proprioceptive input to regulate their responses to sensory over-stimulation” according to Dr Neff, an Autistic-ADHD Psychologist, in this article.
What can help?
A movement break to get up and dance or shake, even for 5 or 10 minutes, when there has been more than 45 minutes or so of sitting still.
Varying activities so that there are not many hours or whole days of one type of activity, can make a huge difference in supporting us to stay engaged. For example, a turn-taking massage activity, followed by movement, followed by a sharing circle.
You may ask: Why not just ask for these accommodations in the workshop?
These are the barriers.
In these situations, I tend to question the validity of my need. Going through the state school system, for example, has conditioned me to accept all kinds of uncomfortable environments that don’t take into account my needs. In that moment, too, the perception is that most people are doing fine with it, so my default is to adapt, with the underlying belief that my comfort doesn’t matter.
Asking also disrupts the flow of the workshop and draws attention to one’s self — and as I discussed in my previous article, being looked at can be very uncomfortable, especially when it’s through a lens of potential ‘What’s wrong with you?’
If there is a lot of information or other exercises to fit in and no time for movement breaks, the facilitator could emphasise at the outset of the workshop that participants are free to attend to their needs by moving and stretching whenever they need to. This would help the physical tension/proprioception factor, but not so much the cognitive load of continuing to take in so much information without a break.
5) When giving instructions, don’t assume anything
As an autistic person, when I communicate, I am complete to a fault, to try and avoid misunderstandings. In contrast, I often find vital information missing in others’ instructions.
Woven into many sets of instructions are are assumptions based on ‘common sense’. This assumes that everyone thinks the same way and has come to the same conclusions, generally speaking. I greatly appreciate a concise, clear yet thorough explanation from a teacher or facilitator, paced in a way that I can take in the words and identify any points I need further clarification on.
When activities or exercises are being explained, reading between the lines and figuring out what’s required of us can tax us to the max. There can be shame and embarrassment about needing to ask a clarifying question when everyone else seems to just automatically ‘know’ what to do.
I was impressed at a recent workshop at how much space and time the facilitator gave to questions from another neurodivergent person. He did not get impatient, even when the questions continued, but gave space for the concerns, was reassuring, and offered a space after the session to explore things further if need be.
If facilitators are aware of these potential issues before a workshop or class and can weave in some options and accommodations beforehand, this would help neurodivergent people feel more welcomed and greatly improve their ability to take in the learnings and benefit from the experience.
Do you have any more ideas? I’d love to hear them! If you would benefit from these tips in the spaces you participate in, or know others who would, do share on.
I am putting together a supportive, menstrual-cycle aware journey for neurodivergent women with a fellow ‘neurospicy’ friend and collaborator. If you want to be the first to know about it, visit here.
If you enjoy my writing, you might like my book, ‘The Wild Wandering Arc: A Journey through Vanlife, Nature & Love’. To support my writing and access more of it, please subscribe (for just £5/month you will get additional exclusive content). This is also an easy way to support my writing.
You are also welcome to join me over on Wildmuse Portal where I explore how to live a more authentic, nature-connected life of freedom and creative expression.