All the colours of the spectrum: embracing neurodiversity in adland
As awareness of neurodiversity grows, so does the need to accommodate the different ways we think, feel, respond and act, both in adland’s workplace culture and in its campaigns. Here, Tim Cumming talks to strategists and creatives about the power and pitfalls of thinking differently.
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Do we want to feel unique, or do we want to be normal?
Years ago, in middle school, a teacher asked our class, ‘Who here thinks they are like everyone else?’. It was important for me to feel I was like everyone else, because I wasn’t, I was very shy, often zoning out. I didn’t want to be lonely, so I put up my hand. I was the only one. Then teacher asked, “Who here thinks they are special?” Everyone else put up their hands. I wanted to put up mine up.
It’s estimated that neurodivergent states are shared among 20 per cent of us.
Negotiating with neurodivergence could be compared to turning a tricky, complex brief into a simple and successful campaign. There are different ways of going about it, each carrying different outcomes, and different burdens. In some approaches, a neurodivergent condition such as ADHD can be seen as an obstacle or hurdle to be conquered and overcome.
In other approaches, these conditions are an enhanced power that emerges from the struggle to negotiate different ways of thinking, being and doing that may be undiagnosed and lived with – like a demanding but invisible family member – for decades.
Masking and adapting can often prove exhausting and debilitating.
It’s estimated that neurodivergent states are shared among 20 per cent of us. Which means advertising needs to expand the spectrum when it comes to neuro-inclusiveness, to engage and communicate with a fifth of humanity, and to accommodate that spectrum, too, in its creative teams and creative outcomes, where the struggle to deal with some parts of living are compensated by enhanced abilities and insights in others.
It’s a no-brainer, but with so many neurodivergents not being diagnosed until their forties or fifties, it’s a no-brainer that’s long overdue some attention – and action. To quote that old Apple slogan, it’s time to think different.
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powered by- Ad Agency Park & Battery
The neurodivergent creatives at Park & Battery who worked on this film for the Children's Music Fund found it resonated with them – music also taps into a different way of processing the world.
Talking to a range of creatives and strategists from the UK and the Americas, case histories emerge of struggle and confusion over one’s divergent ways of thinking and responding, and the strategies of masking and adapting that can often prove exhausting and debilitating.
But those internal struggles are often paired with the empowerment that comes with knowledge, awareness and realising that what was seen as problematic can be, in fact, a driving power. The creativity, inspiration and lateral insights that tend to be the bedrock of great work find especially fertile grounds for growth in neurodivergent brains.
I can rapidly generate ideas and solutions because my mind is always working overtime with hyper focus.
“For agencies and brands looking to shake things up, rethinking the rigid boxes they use to define roles – especially early in someone’s career – could open the door to some incredible talent,” says Jody Osborne Medina, a freelance creative director from Toronto, who describes her life career path as an obstacle course in specialisations that simply didn’t fit her own divergence.
“I’ve always been a generalist – curious about everything but never an expert in one specific area. This curiosity has been a double-edged sword. On the positive side, it fuels my creativity. I make connections others might not see, pulling from a vast repository of knowledge and experiences. It also means I can rapidly generate ideas and solutions because my mind is always working overtime with hyper focus. However, before I knew I had ADHD, this same trait led to frustration and imposter syndrome. I didn’t fit neatly into traditional roles, especially at companies that valued specialisation.”
If I had taken the traditional agency route with its emphasis on specialisation, I would have crashed and burned early on.
(Above) Jody Osborne Medina, freelance creative director from Toronto.
So rather than struggling to fit in with the conventional structures of a traditional career path, outside of the typical boxes, she set out on her own, launched her own business, and found partners and companies who appreciated her unique ways of thinking and working.
“If I had taken the traditional agency route with its emphasis on specialisation, I would have crashed and burned early on,” she says. “It’s fascinating to me that to excel as a leader in an agency format with ADHD, I actually had to go outside the model and take a non-traditional route. I needed to build my own model, one that allowed me to explore multiple disciplines and lead from a place of curiosity and connection. Then, I could return as a senior leader who focused on the big picture storytelling and could speak to all aspects of a creative project.”
“I was gobsmacked… I was pretty high functioning as a character, albeit erratic. Then I read up on [ADHD], and I teared up – wow that is me.
Like many, her diagnosis came in mid life – the hard-stop of Covid is often given as the impetus behind so many realisations that the ‘quirks’ one grew up with and accustomed to, were the expression of a deeper level of divergence from the neurotypical.
“I started exploring my own ADHD after friends shared their experiences, which sounded just like mine,” recalls Osborne Medina. “I never thought I had ADHD—it was just my ‘quirks’. I related to so much of what they were saying, it was like all the puzzle pieces fell into place.” And diagnosis itself was a powerful, empowering tool. “Suddenly, I had total clarity and a better understanding of why I do things the way I do.”
Finding out about [my ADHD has been] helpful. I’m calmer, kinder, more compassionate, more creative. It feels like a rebirth for me.
Others report a very similar sense of revelation. “I had no idea that I had ADHD,” says Paul Jordan, ECD at TBWA London. Once again, Covid played a key diagnostic role. “It put the brakes on life,” he says. “You had to stop and think, pause for thought, and a lot of stuff came into sharp focus. The scaffolding of everyday life was falling away.
“I found out by accident,” he adds. He’d seen a psychiatrist following a bereavement and some personal difficulties. He thought he had anxiety and depression, not ADHD. “I was gobsmacked,” he remembers. “I was pretty high functioning as a character, albeit erratic. Then I read up on it, and I teared up – wow that is me…. So that was my journey. I found out by mistake, and then recognised myself.”
(Above) Paul Jordan, ECD at TBWA London.
The impact has been huge, he adds. “I cannot underestimate what an incredible thing it has been in my life. Knowledge is power, and ADHD is a good-news diagnosis. You’ve had it all along, so finding out about it can only be helpful. I’m calmer, kinder, more compassionate, more creative. It feels like a rebirth for me.”
People with ADHD get stuck on the default mode network (DMN). So a lot of our brain power is in that expansive problem-solving, lateral, creative area.
As for the mechanics of how ADHD may drive creativity and innovative thoughts, Jordan draws on science, and conjures two paths: the default mode network (DMN) and task positive network (TPN).
“If you’re digging a hole, you’re using your TPN, but if you hit a big rock and you ask yourself, ‘how do I get past this?’, you use your DMN to solve that problem. Most brains toggle between the two successfully, but people with ADHD have a sticky switch and get stuck on the DMN. So a lot of our brain power is in that expansive problem-solving, lateral, creative area. That is why we are very good creatives. We can make those creative leaps. We’re used to being in that space, creatively problem-solving.”
My ability to be organised is impaired, I can be incredibly impulsive, but what I’m really good at – creativity, empathy, spontaneity – I’ve really leaned into and amplified.
But while it can be romanticised as a superpower, ADHD is more complex state of being and doing. “It’s a disorder really. It can be very impairing,” says Jordan, who compares it to being blind, and leaning in to the other senses, of touch, sound and smell. “But you’d never call someone’s blindness a super power. It’s the same with ADHD. My ability to be organised is impaired, I can be incredibly impulsive, but what I’m really good at – creativity, empathy, spontaneity – I’ve really leaned into and amplified.”
When we create space for neurodivergent individuals to work in the ways that suit them best, the whole team benefits.
Over in Oakland, California, president and CCO at agency Park & Battery Michael Ruby focuses more on the real-world issues of adapting and shaping the company’s work culture around neurodiversity. “When we create space for neurodivergent individuals to work in the ways that suit them best, the whole team benefits,” he says. “It impacts everything, from how we structure briefings to how we process information, collaborate, and ultimately deliver better work.”
(Above) Adam Libonatti-Roche, senior strategist for Fabric Social.
Many neurodivergent creatives lead with empathy, which makes them particularly adept at understanding audience perspectives.
He points to the ‘superpowers’ of different neurodiverse conditions. “Dyslexic thinkers are often incredible pattern spotters. They can read between the lines, see emerging trends before they fully form, and identify connections that others might miss. Many neurodivergent creatives lead with empathy, which makes them particularly adept at understanding audience perspectives. That ability to live with and channel emotion into creative work is a huge asset.”
By facilitating neurodiversity across its creative talent pool, Ruby believes that it makes Park & Battery sharper, more insightful, and more human in its work. “When you create an environment where every brain gets to thrive, the creativity speaks for itself.”
As an example, he highlights their work for the Children’s Music Fund, which helps to heal children with music therapy. “It resonated deeply with many of our neurodivergent creatives,” he says. “Several of them specifically called it out as a career highlight. Why? Because music, like neurodivergent thinking, operates beyond traditional structures. It’s an emotional, sensory and deeply personal experience, one that taps into a different way of processing the world.”
Late-stage diagnosis does come with a lot of emotional impact. You really question the time that has gone by in your life and how it could have been utilised so much better.
Park & Battery’s neurodivergent creatives brought their perspectives on empathy, emotional connection, and non-verbal communication to the forefront – and the results speak for themselves: their Music Makes Us Better campaign led to a 25 per cent increase in annual donations and doubled first-time donors.
In terms of putting in structural support to allow neurodivergent creatives to do their best work, Ruby focuses on adapting processes to match the highs and lows a neurodivergent can experience – accommodating the ‘fire days’ of creative, empathic connections sparking off at lightning speed, as well as the ‘potato days’, when things feel slower and focus is harder to come by. “Both are part of the creative rhythm, and embracing that ebb and flow leads to better work,” says Ruby.
(Above) Michael Ruby, President and CCO at agency Park & Battery.
Adam Libonatti-Roche is a senior strategist for Fabric Social, a social agency with clients such as Currys, Ocado, Big Bus Tours and Subway, and like Jody Osborne Medina and Paul Jordan, was diagnosed later in life, and in the wake of Covid. “The impact of being diagnosed was pretty much mind-blowing; it wasn’t the answer to all the questions in my life but it did bring clarity to areas where I was frustrated with myself,” he says. “Late-stage diagnosis does come with a lot of emotional impact,” he adds. “You really question the time that has gone by in your life and how it could have been utilised so much better.”
And he has advice for anyone who finds themselves in a similar, pivot-changing predicament. “Give yourself a break. Employ a career/life coach to guide you. What helps with ADHD a lot is getting the viewpoint of someone not linked to you at all.”
My line managers understand and work with me to come up with solutions that fit how I work. It’s an absolute pleasure to be somewhere that ‘gets it’.
And like Park & Battery, Fabric Social focuses on structural support for its neurodivergent talents. “It has been really good in supporting me and those within the agency who are neurodivergent,” he says. “I’m not the most ‘brain active’ at certain times, so instead of forcing myself to be productive, my line managers understand and work with me to come up with solutions that fit how I work. It’s an absolute pleasure to be somewhere that ‘gets it’.”
That flexibility to ‘get it’ is even more important at a time when a ‘return to office’ movement is making a lot of noise. “A lot of companies are stating reasons for a return that don’t hold up under a light wind,” says Libonatti-Roche. “For the creative workforce, the individual need of each creative needs to be considered, because it will never be one size fits all. At Fabric Social we want all creatives to be doing their best work, and you can’t do that if you’re not listening to their needs.”
If you see a campaign that makes you wonder ‘what is going on here?’ then that’s not a campaign for someone neurodivergent.
Libonatti-Roche extends that openness to working differently to widening the range of advertising work itself. When looking to define a ‘neurodiverse’ campaign, he says: “They are simple and they don’t require a lot of reading. If you see a campaign that makes you wonder ‘what is going on here’ then that’s not a campaign for someone neurodiverse. Advertising is all about getting your desired audience to do something that you want them to do,” he adds. “Appealing to a neurodiverse way of being through advertising, branding and creativity means you are grabbing the attention of those who have been previously ungrabbable.”
There is a spectrum,” he says, “and we all sit somewhere on that spectrum. We have different elements of neurodiversity in us at different times.
But the borders between typical and diverse are permeable, Paul Jordan believes. For him, the spectrum of human neurodiversity is an arc that encompasses not only the divergent but ‘neurotypicals’ too. “There is a spectrum,” he says, “and we all sit somewhere on that spectrum. We have different elements of neurodiversity in us at different times.”
So whether we raise our hand to declare that we are like everyone else (to find that we are the only one admitting that), or whether we raise our hand to say that we are unique, like everyone does, we all have our own stations on the spectrum, points where we get on, and get off. And that realisation can allow a diversity of working cultures and creative methods to rise and bloom in each person’s neurodiverse microclimates.
Our states of mind may often feel ephemeral, elusive, more imagined that actual, but they can hit as hard as a brick wall. In workplaces that foster a range of strategies for peak creativity, and a dynamic awareness of ‘otherness’ and difference, those walls will be coming down.
