Growing up as a Black woman of Caribbean descent, I was shaped by a culture that often demanded conformity and strength, and like many others, I internalized those ideals. To stand out or seem different wasn’t an option; blending in was the norm. As a neurodivergent individual living with AuDHD (Autism and ADHD), I spent most of my life masking—hiding the parts of me that didn’t fit into societal expectations, even long after my diagnosis.
Receiving my diagnosis as an adult was a bittersweet experience. On one hand, it gave me answers to questions I had about myself for years. Why did I feel different from everyone else? Why did I struggle with sensory overload or find myself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, only to then focus with an intensity others found odd? On the other hand, knowing the answer didn’t automatically make life easier. Even after my diagnosis, I found myself still wanting to "fit in," not to stand out, not to be perceived as the one who doesn’t follow the rhythm of the collective.
In many Caribbean communities, the cultural norm is to be strong, resilient, and composed. There’s little room for mental health struggles, and neurodivergence is often misunderstood or dismissed entirely. These cultural pressures, combined with the layers of being Black and a woman, led to years of masking—consciously and unconsciously suppressing my traits to blend in. This masking was exhausting. The emotional labor of appearing "normal" to meet other people’s expectations often left me feeling drained and disconnected from myself.
Over time, however, I began to peel back the layers of who I thought I needed to be. I started understanding that my differences were not flaws but powerful aspects of my identity. I slowly embraced the idea that my brain works differently, and that’s okay. Learning to accept myself is an ongoing process, but I’ve reached a point where I no longer feel the need to mask. I no longer wish to dim my light to make others comfortable. I realize now that *me*—precisely as I am—is lovely, powerful, and worthy of being fully expressed.
Unmasking has given me a sense of freedom. I no longer spend hours analyzing every social interaction or suppressing my reactions to situations. I let myself stim when I need to, allow my focus to flow naturally, and embrace the rhythm of my energy. Instead of hiding my quirks, I celebrate them, and it feels like reclaiming my identity—one that was always there but hidden for far too long.
While my journey has been transformative, there are still challenges in navigating environments where neurodivergence is neither well understood nor embraced. In Caribbean culture, mental health is still often stigmatized, and concepts like ADHD and autism can be dismissed as "White people" illnesses or ideas. The expectation is to "tough it out," so admitting that your brain works differently can be met with skepticism or even rejection. This can make the experience of being neurodivergent feel even more isolating.
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