Opinion | Assumptions, Curiosity and Superpowers

Being both part of the LGBTTQIA+ community and neurodiverse has meant navigating two very different kinds of conversations: one that often starts with raised eyebrows and assumptions, and one that tends to genuine curiosity. Everyone’s experience is different, but I can’t help thinking mine has been shaped by coming out (on both fronts) in my 40s. By then, I had a career, networks, a sense of self – which meant this landed in the context of an established life, not part of a coming-of-age narrative. A gift and challenge.

When it comes to my LGBT journey; questions tend to centre on attraction or relationship history – as if it’s a LinkedIn field to be completed. My story isn’t about gender identity, it’s about attraction – and is that anyone’s business? For me, my ‘true self’ means disclosure is important, but it’s not an invitation for speculation. For some, it’s confusing that I was once in a heterosexual marriage and now I’m not, and previously a long-term girlfriend.

In design and architecture, these conversations are often wrapped in polite interest, but step into the construction sector – where I work with our project management team – the tone shifts. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard, “Who broke you?” or “You just haven’t met the right man yet.” It’s rarely malicious, mostly joking, but still reduces part of my identity to a problem to be “fixed.”

Neurodiversity, gets a different reception. The questions are more, “When did you know?” or “How did you find out?” People lean in with curiosity. I suspect it’s because so many people are neurodiverse themselves or know someone who is. It’s a shared talking point, and people are less afraid of saying the wrong thing. It’s not without challenges, but it feels like an exchange rather than a judgement.

Personally, neurodiversity has been easier. It was eye-opening, a relief – the pieces of my puzzle suddenly fit. LGBT has not been easy. When I was in a gay relationship, my sexual orientation was obvious and I felt firmly part of the rainbow community, seen and accepted. Now, as a single woman, I’m challenged by the thought: what if I ever dated a man again? Would people think it was a phase? An experiment? Is she back now? Am I still part of the community where I once felt so visible, or would this all push me back into the closet? The confusion is real – and it doesn’t stop. Sometimes, the personal questioning is more damaging than anything that comes from the outside.

I know I’m privileged to be able to speak about either part of my identity without fear of serious consequence. Not everyone can. Which is why it’s worth acknowledging how far these conversations have come – and why we can’t take progress for granted. Every time someone shares their story, it chips away at stigma and builds space for the next person to speak. 

To bring it back to a place of simplicity, I focus on my work, designing spaces that work for everyone. This starts with being open to difference – whether it’s about who someone loves or how their brain is wired. Difference is a ‘superpower’. My superpowers shape who I am, influence how I lead, and inspire the spaces we design.