Affirming Without Over-Narrating: Supporting Neurodivergence With Respect and Balance
If you’re parenting or working with an autistic child—or any neurodivergent child—you’ve likely been told to “affirm” them. Say the word. Celebrate their differences. Normalize the diagnosis.
This is powerful advice. Words like autism and neurodivergent can help a child understand themselves, advocate for their needs, and feel like they belong. Naming things clearly and confidently can be a form of deep respect.
But sometimes, in our urgency to get affirmation right, we can go a little too far.
Let’s talk about how to support and affirm neurodivergence in a way that truly centers the person—not our anxiety, not others' expectations, and not our own discomfort.
Say the Word. Name the Need. Be Honest.
When a child receives a diagnosis like autism, ADHD, or another neurodivergent profile, it can feel like a huge shift in how we understand them. It’s natural to want to get it right, and to help others get it right, too.
Saying the word—autistic—is an important step. It removes stigma, replaces euphemisms, and gives your child language for how they move through the world.
It can also help others. Sometimes, narrating or explaining a child’s neurodivergence to teachers, relatives, or peers helps them be more supportive. It can reduce misunderstanding, prevent judgment, and set the stage for inclusion.
Example: You’re at a family gathering, and your child is overwhelmed by the noise. Quietly stepping away with them, and later telling a relative, “Luca gets overwhelmed in crowds—it’s part of their sensory profile,” can build understanding without putting your child on display.
But Here’s the Caution: Don’t Turn the Bridge Into a Stage
There’s a difference between gently offering context and turning a child into a narrated experience. If we find ourselves constantly announcing diagnoses, explaining every behavior, or narrating our child’s identity in public, we need to ask:
Who is this for?
Is this explanation empowering my child—or managing my own anxiety?
Am I giving voice to my child, or speaking over them?
Example to Pause On: You're in line at a store, and your child starts stimming or repeating a phrase. You feel eyes on you, so you blurt out to the stranger next to you, “Oh, he’s autistic—that’s why he does that.”
Ask yourself: Was I protecting my child—or trying to make others more comfortable?
Over-Narration Is Often About Us, Not Them
Sometimes, our over-explaining isn’t really about our child. It’s about making others comfortable. Or proving we’re “good parents.” Or staving off perceived judgment.
That’s human. But it’s also something we need to notice. Because even if our child isn’t resisting, they’re watching. And how we talk about them in front of others becomes how they begin to understand themselves.
Prompt for Reflection:
Do I feel the need to explain my child before they even interact with someone?
Am I filling in silence because I feel nervous, not because my child needs it?
Try this instead: Let your child have the moment. Step in if there’s confusion or misinterpretation, but let the interaction unfold first. You can always circle back later with context—if it’s truly needed.
What About When the Child Can’t Tell Us What They Want?
This is the harder part. Some neurodivergent children—and adults—cannot clearly express how they want to be referenced or explained. They may not yet have the words, the clarity, or the communication tools to tell us.
In these cases, our responsibility is to be thoughtful stewards of their dignity. When we speak about them, we must do so with care, humility, and restraint. We do our best to imagine what they would want—and we stay open to changing that approach as they grow.
Example: Your child is non-speaking, and a peer asks why they don’t talk. A short, confident answer like, “Their brain works differently, and they communicate in their own way,” respects the child’s identity and helps others understand—without over-explaining.
Affirmation is a Practice, Not a Script
There’s no one right way to get this perfect. What matters is why we’re saying what we’re saying—and who we’re saying it for. If it’s truly to support our child, to make space for them, to invite connection, then you’re on the right track.
If it’s to manage perception, or to explain away behaviors out of discomfort, that’s worth pausing on.
Affirmation doesn’t always need to be verbal. Sometimes it’s in the quiet accommodations, the unapologetic presence, the joy of letting your child just be.
They don’t need a narrator. They need a parent, an ally, a safe place to grow.
🧩 A Few Final Prompts to Help You Find the Balance
Would I still say this if no one else were watching?
Am I trying to help my child—or change how others see me?
How can I empower my child to speak for themselves over time, even if they can’t yet?
What would it look like to affirm their identity without explaining it?
If this resonates, I’d love to hear from you. At Sound Shore Coaching, I work with parents navigating the deep, complicated, beautiful work of raising neurodivergent kids in a world that often doesn’t understand. Let’s figure it out together—with grace, curiosity, and respect.
