The words we all use matter. When it comes to neurodiversity – they shape how communities understand difference, who is believed and who feels safe to ask for support.

For people with Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), these narratives have real consequences, not just for access to diagnosis or treatment, but for wellbeing, identity and feeling their value as a human.

A photo of a newspaper headline about how to cope with ADHD with a photo of a stressed child — Victorian policy changes expanding access to diagnosis have led to increased media coverage. Picture: Getty Images

While most understandings of ADHD are framed with a deficit-based lens, which makes sense when seen as a ‘disorder’, there are emerging neuroaffirming perspectives that reframe ADHD as neurological differences.

Recent ADHD media coverage and commentary have intensified, particularly following Victorian policy changes that expand access to diagnosis through trained general practitioners (GPs).

While many discussions have been thoughtful and evidence-informed, others have been dismissive, sensationalised or openly sceptical.

As a multi-disciplinary team at the University of Melbourne Neurodiversity Project that has experienced the ADHD diagnostic process, we are deeply concerned by the harm some of this discourse is doing to our community.

ADHD framed as a trend or a social media phenomenon

Talking about ADHD as a fad undermines trust, fuels stigma, and leaves people questioning whether they will ever be believed when they finally seek help.

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We are not arguing against debate or scrutiny. But instead, we’re calling for responsibility, particularly from researchers and professionals who work with the media.

When commentators dismiss rising ADHD diagnosis rates as a fad, they erase history

There’s an implication that people seeking assessment are misguided, dishonest or incapable of understanding their own experiences.

For many in our community, this reinforces a lifetime of the narrative – “your struggles are exaggerated, imagined, or you’re simply not trying hard enough”.

This is the burden of an invisible disability. The demand for constant proof is exhausting.

The impact of this discourse on wellbeing is profound.

An iPhone screen showing various social media apps including TikTok, Instagram, Facebook and X — Talking about ADHD as a social media fad undermines trust and fuels stigma. Picture: Getty Images

People may delay seeking assessment because they fear judgement. Some withdraw from advocacy after seeing their identities publicly questioned.

Others may continue to doubt themselves, even after receiving a formal diagnosis, because this narrative suggests they should not trust their own understanding.

Neurodivergent people describe profound social isolation, repeated experiences of not being believed and constant self-advocacy. Add burnout, shame, and fear of disclosure to the list.

The University of Melbourne has taken meaningful steps in response to the data collected by our team; investing in professional learning, systemic change and community-led initiatives. But there’s more that needs to happen throughout Australia.

Public commentary about ADHD is not happening in a vacuum

When people with institutional authority speak dismissively about ADHD, their words travel far beyond opinion pages and television panels. They shape how employers respond to disclosure, how educators interpret behaviour and how clinicians listen – or fail to listen – to their patients.

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Since 2025, there has been a troubling pattern of influential voices making sweeping claims without engaging with people with lived experience or researchers in this field.

ADHD has been described as a cultural trend or overdiagnosis, often without any reference to the substantial body of clinical evidence to the contrary.

This framing is not only inaccurate. It’s also dangerous.

Australia has clear, evidence-based clinical guidelines for diagnosis and support of ADHD, developed through rigorous review and consultation, that included people with lived experience.

These guidelines recognise ADHD as a lifelong neurodevelopmental disability and explicitly acknowledge that many people – particularly adults, women and people from marginalised communities – have historically been underdiagnosed or misdiagnosed.

An ADHD assessment portal on a laptop — There are real barriers to accessing diagnosis. Picture: Shutterstock

The Australasian ADHD Professionals Association also note the very real barriers experienced in accessing diagnosis, including cost and stigma, in their consumer guide (for non-clinicians).

While it’s worth celebrating this additional, more accessible and affordable way for people who have been unable to get the help they need – not everyone is happy with the changes in Victoria.

This is not an abstract harm

For some people with ADHD, their anxiety, shame and burnout mean it can feel safer to stay silent than to request support.

One of the authors of this article – Matthew – has his own personal experience. For most of his life, he could not understand why he could not remember seemingly simple instructions or information.

He was asked more than once if he “had been tested for anything” by teachers in front of his peers.

School reports show a history of chronic disorganisation and dysregulation throughout high school, which came to a head in a failed Year 11 Physics exam.

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He was completely lost.

Without understanding his brain, it was the care of his family, friends and one incredible teacher that helped rebuild his confidence and put in place strategies, allowing him to eventually get his PhD.

We must stop treating ADHD voices as optional or anecdotal. Lived experience is not a threat to evidence-based practice, it’s part of it.

Talk with us, not over us

The global neurodiversity movement has fundamentally reshaped how people understand neurotypes, including autism, dyslexia and ADHD.

It challenges deficit-only models and instead frames neurological differences as part of natural human variation, while still recognising that disability is real and that support is essential.

It affects education, employment, relationships and mental health. For us, the neurodiversity movement was the first time our experiences made sense. It gave us language for needs we had and for strengths we had been told did not count.

It helped explain the deep frustration of spending our lives in systems never designed with us in mind.

A middle-aged female patient gesturing while talking to female counsellor — People may delay seeking assessment or advice because they fear judgement. Picture: Getty Images

There are more ADHD researchers, clinicians, and advocates with lived experience than ever before. This is not a threat to science or medicine. It is an opportunity to do better.

As professionals and researchers, how we talk about the communities we study matters. Words shape policy, practice, and public attitudes. They can open doors or quietly close them.

If you are in a position of power, take your responsibility seriously – whether you’re a reporter, teacher, paediatrician or researcher.

We are not asking to be shielded from critique. We are asking to be included in the conversation.

Work with us. Listen to the evidence and lived experience together.

Question systems, not identities.

And above all, recognise that improving access to diagnosis is not a social contagion, it’s a step toward equity.

This article was first published on Pursuit. Read the original article.

Dr

Sarah Timperley

Research Fellow

School of Learning Sciences

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Sarah Timperley

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