March 5, 2026Reena Anand
When my son was five years old, he was suspended from school. Not because he was violent or disruptive, but because the adults around him didn’t understand him. They saw a South Asian child who didn’t fit their expectations of what an autistic child should look like, and they responded with exclusion rather than support.
That experience taught me something fundamental: neurodiversity support without cultural competency perpetuates systemic exclusion.
As early years practitioners, you are often the first professionals to notice when a child’s development diverges from expected patterns. You are also the first to have conversations with families about whether their child might be neurodivergent. These conversations matter profoundly – they can open doors to support, or they can create barriers that last for years.
But here’s what the research tells us: families from global majority backgrounds face significant barriers at every stage of the identification and support process. Large-scale studies show that whilst overall autism prevalence doesn’t differ markedly by race or ethnicity, White and higher-income children are more likely to be identified and diagnosed earlier than Black, Latinx and Asian children. These gaps arise from intersecting factors – systemic racism, clinician bias, language and cultural barriers, and unequal access to specialists.
When we talk about neurodiversity in early years, we cannot separate it from race, culture, and the systems that shape which children get seen, heard, and supported.
A child is never just autistic, or just South Asian, or just from a low-income family. They hold all of these identities simultaneously, and each one shapes how they experience the world and how the world responds to them. This is intersectionality – the recognition that our identities don’t exist in isolation, they interact and compound.
For families from global majority backgrounds, neurodiversity conversations are layered with additional complexity. There may be cultural narratives about disability and difference. There may be historical trauma and distrust of institutions. There may be language barriers, or experiences of racism that make families hesitant to engage with services. There may be collectivist cultural values that shape how families understand their child’s needs and what support looks like.
None of this means these families care less about their children or are harder to reach. It means the systems we’ve built weren’t designed with them in mind.
Cultural competency in neurodiversity conversations starts with recognising that your role is not to impose a Western, individualist framework onto every family. It’s to understand the family’s cultural context, build trust, and co-create support that works for them.
This means using strength-based language that centres what the child can do, not just what they struggle with. It means asking families how they understand their child’s differences, rather than assuming. It means recognising that some families may need more time, more relationship-building, and more reassurance before they feel safe to engage.
It also means examining your own assumptions. When you see a child who doesn’t make eye contact, or who plays differently, or who communicates in ways you don’t expect – are you seeing the child, or are you seeing your assumptions about what neurodivergence looks like?
Neurodiversity support that ignores race and culture isn’t truly inclusive. It’s time we built early years practice that sees and values the whole child, and the whole family.
Reena Anand
Reena Anand is a neurodiversity consultant, coach, and speaker. She is a South Asian AuDHD woman and parent of two neurodivergent children.
View more Kinderly resources on:
– neurodiversity and early years
– race and inclusion in early years