Inclusion at Whose Expense?
Reflections on the shifting landscape of the neurodiversity industry
When I founded The Future is ND in 2018, people came to me because of my work.
They’d seen my events and content, liked my approach, and wanted me to bring that energy and insight into their organisations. That trust and reputation opened doors.
But the landscape has shifted.
Awareness has grown, which is brilliant for employees and jobseekers finally getting recognition and support. The conversation is louder, wider, and more mainstream.
At the same time, the market has exploded. More consultants. More training providers. More “solutions.” Fewer budgets to go around.
That combination has made it a buyer’s market. Clients can take their pick, compare us against each other, and request detailed proposals, often without being transparent up front about their process or budget. I don’t think it’s always intentional, but the effect is real: unpaid labour, lost time, wasted spoons.
And here’s the irony: most of us working in this space are neurodivergent, disabled, and self-employed. We don’t have large organisations behind us to absorb these costs. When clients pit us against each other, the hidden effect is that disabled people end up working for free.
That isn’t inclusion. That’s exploitation dressed up as progress.
Why the field is booming
Part of the reason the neurodiversity space has grown so quickly is deeply personal. Many of us come to this work after a late diagnosis. We discover we’re neurodivergent, research intensely, and often turn it into a special interest.
For some, that means leaving jobs or industries where exclusion and burnout took their toll. For others, it means carving out a new path as an independent consultant, trainer, or coach, turning to work that feels more aligned with who we are.
Autism diagnoses in the UK rose by nearly 800% between 1998 and 2018. ADHD referrals are soaring, especially among adults. That surge of late-diagnosed people has created both new demand and a wave of new providers. The result? A crowded market and the risk of burnout, again.
How the landscape has shifted
When I started in the neurodiversity space 2018, the conversation around neurodiversity was still relatively niche. Fast forward to today, and the growth is striking:
Job ads: On Indeed, UK postings explicitly referencing “neurodiversity” have risen more than six-fold since 2019 (from 0.3% in Jan 2019 to 2.1% in Oct 2024).
Corporate focus: By 2024, around 60% of UK employers said neuro-inclusion was a priority — but only a third had written it into DEI strategies. That intent–action gap explains why procurement often feels messy.
Strategies still rare: Autistica’s 2024 Neurodiversity Employer Index found only ~30% of organisations had a clear strategy or goals. That means many are buying services without a joined-up plan, a recipe for comparison-shopping and unpaid scoping.
Risk signals rising: Employment tribunal cases citing neurodiversity discrimination grew from 70 in 2020 to 102 in 2022. That shows both increasing awareness of rights and increasing conflict - fuelling more demand for workplace training.
Bigger infrastructures: New players and industry bodies have attracted hundreds of corporate members since launch, cementing executive-level interest and drawing larger providers into the spotlight.
Awareness has surged faster than strategy. Demand has risen faster than budgets. And bigger players are better positioned to absorb the costs and secure the work.
The rise of the big players
It isn’t just independents entering the field. Larger providers have expanded rapidly in the past few years and benefitted from the boom in awareness — awareness that was first built by community voices.
Public filings show just how sharply the top end has grown: one provider’s net assets rose by 55% in just three years (2022–2024); another reported turnover up 41% in a single year, with profits almost tripling and net assets more than doubling since 2022. A third recorded turnover of around £3m annually before being acquired by a larger international group in 2023 — a clear sign of the commercial value now attached to “neurodiversity expertise.” And a membership body launched in 2022 has already signed up 500+ major UK organisations.
Back in 2021/22, I was already raising concerns about this shift. I wrote then about how larger players risked becoming gatekeepers, using community voices to build awareness while attracting corporate membership and resources. If you followed me on Twitter at the time, you might remember those conversations. I also explored it in more depth in an earlier Substack piece, From Movement to Marketplace: The Commodification of Neurodiversity.
That visibility and scale mean the bigger players can absorb the cost of pitching, offer lower fees, and win the big contracts. The irony is that the very system which once excluded us now dictates the rules of inclusion, rewarding size and scale over lived experience. The risk is that a movement that began as grassroots and community-led gets reshaped by scale, while smaller, neurodivergent-led voices are pushed to the margins.
A familiar pattern
This feels uncomfortably familiar.
Before I started this work, I spent years in the advertising industry. Constantly pitching for work. Endlessly interviewing. Producing unpaid creative briefs just to get in the door. Hours of wasted labour trying to prove myself and break into full-time employment as a disabled person in a competitive market.
That cycle of unpaid effort, of proving worth again and again, is the very thing I thought I’d left behind when I started in the neurodiversity space. Yet here it is again, replicated in a sector that’s supposed to be about inclusion.
What the community says
When I shared some thoughts on LinkedIn earlier this week, the response was substantial, with strong engagement and a wide range of perspectives. Many of you said you’d noticed the same shift:
“Unfortunately most want inclusion for free. I am slowly losing the spoons to carry on.” — Hayley O’Connor
“The issue for me is that it’s almost impossible to tell the difference between those who sound like they’ve got the knowledge … and those who actually do.” — Matt Gupwell
“Fees that once sustained a career have dropped and many more people have stepped into the space. Training now comes in every form, from online to AI generated to in person … The market feels diluted, more competitive and at times more generic.” — Rich Ferriman
“I said this a while back. There are people purporting to be skilled in the area but have no clue.” — Dianne Greyson
“I don’t want to be pitted against the people who are striving for the same things that I am. For those who I respect, I want to engage, collaborate, share and platform.” — Rachel Morgan-Trimmer
“There are still many neurodivergent people hoping to break into this sector to educate others about neurodiversity, while still going through the learning curve themselves. Many are keen to share their lived experience of neurodivergence, but without insights into the realitiesnof inclusion of work.” Charlie Hart
Some saw opportunities in collaboration. Others described exhaustion, exclusion, or burnout. Several noted this isn’t unique to neurodiversity — it mirrors what’s happened in other training industries, from yoga teaching to ADHD coaching.
The overall takeout was: more people are entering the space, but there isn’t more paid work to match. The result is greater competition, lower fees, and consultants left feeling discontent.
The cost for independents
For me, this work grew out of my creative career and gradually became my main income. At first, opportunities came to me. Now the space feels more crowded, with more consultants entering and the dynamics shifting.
I stay in this field partly because of what I’ve built, what I know, and where I can contribute without having to start over. At the same time, I recognise that there could be more of a shift and I may have to find another way to survive, so I’ve started studying a diploma in equine training and coaching (more on that another time).
That’s why the imbalance hits so hard. Larger providers can absorb costs, invest in visibility, and secure the big contracts. For smaller, independent consultants, the risks and pressures hit harder.
I’m still here, because I still believe in this work and still more have ideas I want to explore. But the reality is that the system favours infrastructure and resources, while the independant voices rooted in lived experience risk being sidelined.
Towards something better
There aren’t simple solutions. But some ideas have emerged from the conversations so far:
For consultants: set clearer boundaries, quote instead of pitching, find niches where your work speaks loudest, and recommend each other instead of competing.
For clients and organisations: be mindful of hidden costs, respect consultants’ time, and be transparent about budgets and processes. Balance spend between large providers and smaller, neurodivergent-led independents — and where possible, give independents a real chance rather than defaulting to the big players. Larger organisations and industry bodies could also play a role here, by actively partnering with, funding, or subcontracting to community-led consultancies, rather than dominating the space.
For the big players: recognise the ecosystem you’re part of, and be mindful that your success can unintentionally push out the grassroots voices this movement came from. Sharing platforms, redistributing opportunities, and amplifying smaller consultancies could make the sector stronger for everyone.
For all of us: difference has always been normal. But when systems reward big players over lived experience, the rejection we feel isn’t about who we are — it’s about how the system works.
What do you think?
This piece began with my own reflections and was expanded by voices from the neurodiversity LinkedIn community. I’m interested to hear your perspective too:
Have you noticed this shift in the neurodiversity space?
How has it affected you or the work you do?
What might genuine inclusion look like if we avoid replicating old power dynamics?
Add your thoughts in the comments - I’d like to understand how others are experiencing these changes.
Sources: Public filings (Companies House and Charity Commission), survey data (Autistica’s 2024 Neurodiversity Employer Index), UK Employment Tribunal records, and publicly available membership figures.