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What It’s Like Accessing Climate Spaces as a Neurodivergent Person
Myself (via WordPress) - September 11, 2025
What It’s Like Accessing Climate Spaces as a Neurodivergent Person
11 September 2024Last week, I recently had the opportunity to attend an event by Nifty Sustainability CIC. At this event, they presented the results of a co-production group that discussed the intersection of neurodiversity and climate activism. I wish I had known about this event when they first recruited participants. I have so much to say on this. Given that collaboration is ending, I’m writing this article instead.
As a neurodivergent woman involved in sustainability circles and campaigns for the last few years, I’ve faced many good and bad experiences. I’ve had more good experiences than bad, but I know I may be in the minority.
Environmentalism has an ableism problem.
Disabled people know this very well. The most well-known example is plastic straw bans. These bans deprive many disabled people of the means to drink properly (and no, for some people there really are no alternatives). Online discussion around the issue has become extremely toxic, reinforcing the systemic ableism that disabled people must deal with daily. Not to mention the real-world consequences of bans now plastic straws are harder to obtain.
However, some forms of ableism in environmentalism are less overt, and sometimes completely unintended, even when experiences are overall positive. This is what I’ve concluded following years in climate change and sustainability spaces. We need to discuss this, and I’d like to use my experiences as an example.
Let’s start with the senses
While I certainly don’t need plastic straws to survive, I have sensory issues with certain foods and textures, including many fruits and vegetables. This limits what I can eat sometimes.
To give a recent example, I tried out a fish-free salmon alternative for dinner. I’d enjoy it and find something new I can eat and enjoy. However, I found the texture tasted too weird for me to stomach. I’d essentially wasted money and food by buying and preparing this salmon.
On the other hand, if this salmon was the real deal, I would’ve had no issue. The texture of salmon (especially when smoked) is easier to deal with sensory-wise, not to mention tastier.
Travelling when neurodivergent also makes things more difficult.
I’ve already accepted I can’t go fully vegetarian in part because travelling can be hell. Long trips abroad, stuck in one place, can be very overstimulating, especially when there’s lots of partying involved. As much as I love travelling, it’s exhausting. Hence, I sometimes must fall back on things I’m familiar with to cope and ground myself in chaotic, overstimulating environments. If that means eating meat, so be it. After all, eating food is always better than not eating.
This brings me to climate spaces
What do you get when you combine the stress of travelling with climate events? The answer depends on how well-organised the event is (or not). If it’s organised well, I’m more likely to have a great experience. The opposite is true for poorly organised events.
To continue using food examples, there’s an unwritten rule of climate change communities that causes me major problems. In climate spaces, all food available must be vegan / plant-free. Meals will often have rice, lentils and a lot of fruit and veg. All kinds of milk are dairy-free, ranging from soya to coconut. No cow’s milk in sight.
I understand why this is. Lots of people become vegan as they’re morally opposed to eating animals or anything from them. Additionally, the more normalised vegan alternatives are, the more people will carry these habits into day-to-day life. But what if you need to eat meat for medical (or any other) reasons? Or can’t eat whatever’s offered?
Climate spaces, simply put, usually do not accommodate this.
There are a few events where I’ve been able to request something I can eat as a separate dish (like tomatoes and pasta). While I am grateful for this, I also feel awkward because I shouldn’t have to request separate dishes. This is blatantly ironic because vegans and vegetarians often must request specific alternative menus and dishes when in non-climate spaces. It’s as if the roles are reversed.
But what about meat-free alternatives? Climate spaces rarely offer them.
I think part of this is due to budget, as these orgs have a lot of mouths to feed, and meat-free alternatives are pricey. However, organisations instead cook meals made of lentils, rice and similar carbohydrates, which can be a minefield of sensory issues. Especially so when combined with other stuff like peppers and Brussels sprouts.
My solution will be controversial to some, but it needs to be said. Climate spaces must start offering a limited quantity of meat-focused meals alongside meat-free alternatives. I don’t just mean rice and lentils. I mean plant-based meat alternatives. Plus, even if you like lentils, rice and other carbs, there’s only so much you can eat them before you’ve had enough. You don’t have to be neurodivergent to get sick of eating the same food.
This also reflects the structural solutions required to address the climate crisis.
- Yes, Big Meat is a thing. The industry must be degrowthed through legislation (especially the most polluting sectors like beef).
- Yes, some of the conditions in which animals are kept before being slaughtered are horrific. This needs proper enforcement and legislation.
- Yes, some people must eat meat, no matter what. Whatever the reason, we must accept them without judgment. Not everyone can go vegan.
- Yes, it is possible – and frankly, essential – that humanity learns how to sustainably and humanely consume animals. Indigenous tribes and similar communities have done this for generations and will continue. We need some level of animal consumption.
- Yes, mainstream society must be more inclusive towards vegans and vegetarians. However, vegans and vegetarians must also be more inclusive towards meat-eaters as well as disabled people. This means no plastic straw bans and more regulatory bans on factory farming and degrowthing Big Meat.
A better, more sustainable world means acknowledging all the above points and taking action. While many of these goals may seem lofty, starting small is the best way to proceed. That means telling disabled people “I understand you need to eat meat to be here, is there anything we can do to help?”
Speaking of being here, events themselves can be a sensory nightmare.
Overstimulation is the order for the day in a lot of climate spaces. I don’t just mean the protests associated with a minority of activists like Just Stop Oil. Even chilled events aimed at introducing people to climate justice can be hard to deal with. The many sounds, textures and smells can be overwhelming. Especially so when meeting new people for the first time.
Sometimes you must accommodate yourself, even more so than what organisers can offer.
Let me contextualise this with another, good experience. I remember my first climate action with Green New Deal Rising in 2021 for COP26. I travelled up to Glasgow for the whole week – not just the weekend – because I knew the environment would be hard to adjust to.
Of course, the counter-protest would be noisy, but so would the warehouse GNDR hired for the week. Because the middle of the week would have fewer people due to work commitments, I knew that would be the time to go and adjust. This gamble paid off.
Even though I accommodated myself, it was still extremely hard. I needed to wear my noise cancellers almost all the time. I struggled with PTSD trauma triggers. I didn’t know anyone back then, so my social anxiety was through the roof.
An old photo from the COP26 counter protest in Glasgow, which I attended.
My sleep was broken because I slept on a church floor for almost a week (sans a night on the sofa in a side room). I played on my games console a lot to help re-regulate myself, especially in the evenings. I also stimmed a lot.
Fortunately, GNDR staff and volunteers were understanding of my needs. This experience marks a turning point in my life. That’s how I began to get more involved with climate action, and evantually, She Nomads Sustainably.
Climate spaces attract a lot of neurodivergent folks.
I suspect neurodivergent folk are more likely to be into climate issues as a result of an innately strong sense of justice. That feeling and urge to want to correct the injustices in the world is hard to resist, especially when you’ve had difficult childhoods (something common with neurodivergent people because society treats us poorly).
A lot of fellow activists were already on the same page as me. It isn’t easy to describe to neurotypical people, so I’ll try my best here. But neurodivergent people are far more likely to “get each other.” The need to deregulate. The need to stim. We need to look after ourselves a lot more. We get it.
Moreover, nature can potentially become a “special interest” for autistic people (I hate that pathologising term, hence the quotes). This is partially because reconnecting with nature has many health benefits.
Being on the same page also extends to politics.
Climate and environmental justice is innately a left-wing issue. In the UK, young people lean heavily to the left, meaning they’re more likely to understand reality. That includes supporting support climate and environmental justice.
It’s not just climate activism too. Human rights, social and economic policy, and foreign policy are all issues young people understand better than our elders. Naturally, we will gravitate towards like-minded people. That means making safe spaces for everyone to participate in, regardless of background.
Not just in name only – genuine inclusion.
As a neurodivergent person, I find British politics very hard to participate in, to the point where it contributes to my mental health issues (and hence, neurodivergence). British political spaces are full of people who tolerate bigots, grifters and saboteurs. Moreover, they advocate ineffective political action such as petitions. Anyone who needs support to access British politics or challenges its status quo face abuse, exclusion and neglect.
This has been my overwhelming experience with UK politics (both day-to-day and back in my anti-brexit days). The sole exception is climate spaces. Climate spaces are the only area of politics in this country – and by extension, abroad – I’ve felt safe in. Climate spaces are the only area of British society I’ve felt supported and able to make lifelong friends. Climate spaces are the only part of British society that actually cares about individual well-being,
This has been my experience participating in climate spaces, and why it’s become a big part of my life. Both for my remaining time in the UK and for later abroad for work and leisure. As a neurodivergent person, I need these safe spaces to thrive and make a difference worldwide.
Things aren’t perfect though
Obviously, my experiences are not universal. Alongside ableism, climate spaces also have issues with racism and classism, to name a few. I know other UK climate campaigners have faced similar issues. Moreover, these issues also exist internationally (the horror climate event I went to in Germany in 2023 comes to mind). This is why we must keep working to make our spaces genuinely inclusive for all – not just climate activism.
Final thoughts
Being neurodivergent in climate spaces has its challenges, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Engaging in climate spaces has been a lifechanging experience.
I’ve been involved in climate spaces for a few years now, and I don’t intend to stop anytime soon. As a neurodivergent person, I wouldn’t be who I am today without it.
© 2026 Milla Hawley. All rights reserved.