Neurodiversity in Academia: Prevalence and Challenges for Autistic Scientists

⚠️ Blog Editors Note / Disclaimer This article is not part of my field of studies or research. It emerged out of a simple discussion which lead to this small summary. While I am not a medical expert, this summary has been edited to the best of my ability.

A growing body of evidence and lived experiences suggest that neurodivergent individuals - especially those on the autism spectrum - are disproportionately represented in scientific fields compared to the general population. At the same time, the structure of academic careers (characterized by short-term contracts, uncertain funding, and frequent geographic mobility) may pose unique challenges and be an especially hostile environment for neurodivergent scientists. This article examines the prevalence of autism and related neurodivergence among scientists in Europe and explores how common academic career conditions might burden or hinder autistic researchers performance and career progression. We also discuss how differences in communication and social interaction could interact with excellence-only funding models - for example, highly competitive grant systems where only flawless proposals succeed - and consider management strategies to create more inclusive academic workplaces. The goal is to provide a structured, scientific overview of these issues, drawing on peer-reviewed research and documented experiences.

• Prevalence of Neurodivergent Individuals in Science
• Challenges in the Academic Career Structure for Autistic Researchers
  • Precarious Employment, Instability, and Mobility
  • Communication Norms and Excellence-Only Funding Culture
• Performance Impacts and Excellence Considerations
• Management and Inclusion Strategies in Academia
• Conclusion
• References

Prevalence of Neurodivergent Individuals in Science

Autistic people appear to be overrepresented in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) fields relative to their proportion in the general public. While autism occurs in roughly 1-2% of the overall population[1], studies have found markedly higher rates of autistic traits and diagnoses among those pursuing scientific careers. A landmark study by Baron-Cohen et al. observed that university students in hard science and engineering disciplines score higher on autism-spectrum trait measures than those in humanities or social sciences[2]. In fact, one UK study found a higher prevalence of diagnosed autism among mathematics majors compared to students in fields like medicine, law, or social science[3]. This suggests that individuals with autism may be more likely to gravitate toward quantitative and analytical disciplines. Similarly, family and population studies indicate a link between autism and STEM-oriented backgrounds - for example, the children of adults in STEM careers show higher rates of autism, and mothers in STEM professions are more likely to have autistic offspring[3]. These patterns align with the systemizing cognitive style often associated with autism, which favors rule-based, detail-focused thinking well-suited to scientific work[3].

Recent surveys of researchers reinforce the idea of substantial neurodiversity in science. Notably, a 2023 case study of a large European autism research consortium (AIMS-2-TRIALS) found that 23% of participating scientists identified as autistic (including formal diagnoses or self-identification)[4] - an extraordinarily high proportion far above population baseline. This sample is specific to autism research, so autistic scientists may have been more inclined to join. Nonetheless, it underscores that many academics are neurodivergent. Interestingly, in that study autistic researchers were concentrated in junior ranks (PhD students and postdocs) and were under-represented in senior positions[4]. This suggests that while autistic people enter scientific careers at relatively high rates, fewer advance to leadership roles - a trend that could reflect the cumulative impact of career barriers. It is also consistent with anecdotal perceptions that academia attracts autistic talent yet may struggle to retain and promote them. In sum, neurodivergent individuals contribute significantly to the research workforce, especially in STEM fields, likely due to strengths and interests that align with scientific inquiry. Autistic thinkers often excel at pattern recognition, systematic exploration, intense focus, and deep expertise in niche topics[11] - qualities that can drive innovation in research. Many autistic academics report that an academic career “fits” their traits and passions, allowing them to dive into special interests and work autonomously[5]. However, the very environment of academia can also present serious obstacles.

Challenges in the Academic Career Structure for Autistic Researchers

Despite the potential synergies between autism and science, the traditional academic career path can be fraught with conditions that are especially challenging for neurodivergent people. Autistic academics themselves emphasize a mix of positives and negatives in their careers[5]. Key structural issues include: precarious employment and forced mobility, implicit social/communication demands, and certain workplace environments that can undermine performance and well-being. These factors, while difficult for many early-career researchers, tend to be exacerbated for autistic individuals[6].

Precarious Employment, Instability, and Mobility

Academic careers in Europe and similarly in the United States are often characterized by temporary contracts and uncertainty in the early stages. After the PhD, researchers typically navigate a series of short-term postdoctoral positions or fellowships before securing any stable job. In many European countries, this has led to a chain of fixed-term contracts that can stretch for a decade or more. The European Students Union recently highlighted that widespread adoption of excessive fixed-term and consecutive short-term employment contracts has rendered academic career pathways unpredictable.[7] For those pursuing academia, this means living with permanent job insecurity - unsure if or where one will be employed a year or two ahead. Furthermore, geographic mobility is often expected; to advance, researchers may need to relocate to different countries or institutions whenever a new grant or position arises.

Such instability can be hard on anyone, but it poses a huge burden for neurodivergent researchers. One core characteristic of autism is difficulty with unexpected change or transitions[1]. Autistic people typically thrive with routine and predictability, and they can experience significant stress or diminished functioning when faced with abrupt changes in environment or schedule. The academic norm of moving every few years to chase funding or positions directly clashes with this need for sameness. An autistic lecturer might excel in a familiar setting where they have a set routine and support network, but being forced to uproot and adapt to a new city, new colleagues, and new duties every 1-2 years could trigger anxiety, sensory overload, and burnout. Indeed, autistic adults as a group are prone to elevated anxiety and depression, and unstable employment or unemployment is known to worsen these mental health outcomes[6,8]. In a European survey of autism researchers, neurodivergent identity emerged as a strong predictor of mental health conditions (like anxiety/depression) among scientists[4], suggesting they are especially vulnerable to stressors in the workplace. Job insecurity and constant uncertainty about the future - unfortunately common in the “permanent temporary” academic track - likely compound this vulnerability. Autistic academics in one qualitative study cited job precarity as a major challenge, noting that what is already a stressful aspect of academia for many becomes even more daunting for them[6].

Another issue is financial and logistical strain: individuals on the autism spectrum may require continuity in healthcare or support services (e.g. counseling, routines with therapists). Repeatedly moving or having funding lapses can interrupt these supports. The impending sense of instability that comes with temporary teaching or research contracts has been described as something that works against [the autistic] neurotype, even if the research work itself is enjoyable[6]. Moreover, the power imbalances of short-term contracts - dependence on supervisors for renewal or reference - can be hard to navigate for those who struggle with workplace politics or advocating for themselves. Overall, the precarity of early academic careers likely filters out many autistic researchers over time. This may help explain why, as noted above, autistic academics are under-represented in senior faculty positions despite being numerous at the PhD/postdoc level[4]. Simply put, many do not make it through the gauntlet of insecure positions, frequent moves, and uncertain prospects. Some leave by choice (finding the stress overwhelming or the lifestyle untenable for their well-being), while others may be pushed out (if their productivity or networking suffers under those conditions). This attrition is a loss to science, given the talents they bring.

Communication Norms and Excellence-Only Funding Culture

Another cluster of challenges revolves around communication styles, social interaction, and the unwritten rules of academia. Success in academic science is not only about research skill; it also hinges on things like networking, mentoring relationships, interview performance, writing grant proposals, and navigating peer review. Many of these elements involve implicit social expectations and hidden norms that can disadvantage those who communicate or socialize differently.

Academia has been described as having a substantial “hidden curriculum” - an unwritten set of expectations that one is supposed to pick up by observation and osmosis[9,6]. Everything from how to approach potential advisors, to the etiquette of conferences, to unwritten criteria of hiring and promotion can fall into this category. Autistic people, who often do not intuitively infer others thoughts or unwritten social rules, are especially challenged by a learning-by-observation model[9]. Jones (2023) notes that autistic academics face systemic barriers partly because academias apprenticeship model relies on tacit knowledge transfer, which provides a significant barrier for those who do not naturally intuit the thoughts and motivations of others[9]. In other words, neurotypical students might unconsciously learn the social nuances of academic life, but autistic students may need explicit guidance that is often lacking. This can lead to misunderstandings or missteps that have real consequences (e.g. not knowing to email a PI in a certain polite tone, or missing out on opportunities because they weren’t explicitly told about them).

Autism is characterized by atypical social communication, but importantly, research shows these differences are bidirectional. The double empathy problem framework holds that autistic and neurotypical people have reciprocal communication barriers. Each group struggles to fully understand the other, due to differences in communication styles, rather than one group simply having a deficit[10]. For example, autistic individuals tend to communicate more directly and literally, and may miss subtle tone or subtext; neurotypical colleagues, meanwhile, might misinterpret an autistic person’s bluntness or body language. Studies have found that autistic people communicate effectively with other autistic people, but mismatches occur when communicating with neurotypicals[10]. In academia, where most hiring committees, collaborators, and reviewers are neurotypical, this can lead to autistic scholars ideas being overlooked or miscommunicated. An autistic researcher might write an email or grant proposal in a style that seems perfectly clear to them or to another autistic peer but comes across as oddly phrased or lacking enthusiasm to a neurotypical reviewer, who then questions the applicants fit or passion. These subtle communication gaps can have outsized impact on grant success or hiring. In fact, securing grants is one area where communication nuances are critical: proposals must sell the project and the researcher in a convincing yet neurotypical-friendly way. As one autistic early-career researcher described, there is a “perennial struggle to conform to neurotypical writing standards” in academic discourse[11]. She notes that neurotypical norms dominate scholarly communication, compelling autistic academics to invest extra energy in translating their thoughts into an acceptable form[11]. This includes crafting the tone of applications or interviews to meet unwritten expectations - something that can be taxing and anxiety-provoking.

Another trend in European research funding of “only financing excellence” where only the very top-rated proposals are funded, and any critique by reviewers can sink a proposal, poses another challenge. In such hyper-competitive schemes (like national excellence grants), funding decisions often leave zero room for error or deviations in tone: if reviewers have any suggestions, questions, or reservations, the proposal is passed over in favor of a flawless one. This environment may inadvertently penalize those who don’t fit the conventional mold of self-presentation. Autistic scientists, due to communication differences, might be less adept at the kind of self-promotional grant writing that preempts all criticism. For instance, an autistic PI might focus rigorously on the technical details of a proposal but omit softer aspects or assume reviewers will understand implicit significance - whereas neurotypical PIs might intuitively know how to add persuasive language or strategic framing to appease reviewers. Because autistic applicants may not mirror the expected style or may misinterpret feedback, they can be less likely to hit the exact bulls-eye of so called “excellence” as defined by committee norms. Unfortunately, in an “excellence-only” review culture, even minor communication deviations can result in rejection. This is especially problematic if feedback is not iterative: autistic academics often benefit from direct feedback or clarification (so they can improve a resubmission), but grant systems that simply reject without dialog leave them guessing what went wrong. Additionally, some autistic researchers may interpret criticism differently - for example a suggestion for improvement might be taken literally and addressed, but if the system instead uses that as grounds for rejection, it’s a lost opportunity. Although there is limited formal study on neurodivergence in grant success, the concern is that neurotypical standards within the academic milieu - including how excellence is communicated - make it harder for autistic talent to secure funding[11].

Beyond written communication, academia unfortunately relies heavily on networking, lab meetings, conferences, and interviews. These social-professional hybrids can be minefields for autistic people. For example, faculty hiring often considers a candidates seminar talk and one-on-one interactions; an autistic candidate might excel in research but falter in the unspoken social expectations of a campus visit (eye contact, small talk at dinners, quickly reading the room’s reactions). Networking at conferences - a key to collaborations - can be extremely draining or even impossible for someone with social anxiety or sensory sensitivity. Many autistic academics report difficulty in large, noisy networking events and confusion over social hierarchies, which can limit their professional connections. Even day-to-day lab culture might involve unwritten norms (joking around, or knowing when to assert oneself in meetings) that autistic members find alienating. As Laurie (2014) observed, several traits associated with ASD might be unsuited for a career in science despite the technical strengths[2]. She gives examples: an autistic researcher with sensory sensitivities may struggle in a loud, bustling laboratory, and someone with social awkwardness may find it hard to present scientific findings to large audiences[2]. These are not insurmountable issues - many autistic scientists do learn to give talks or find quieter lab niches - but they require accommodations and understanding from the academic community.

In summary, the social and communicative climate of academia can pose hidden barriers for neurodivergent researchers. The combination of an implicit curriculum, prevalent networking expectations, and rigid definitions of “excellence” means autistic scientists often have to work extra hard to navigate the system. Without adaptation on the institutions part, this can hurt their performance (fewer grants, more stress, burnout, …) and even drive them out of academia, contributing to the leaky pipeline.

Performance Impacts and Excellence Considerations

The above challenges directly tie into performance metrics often labeled as excellence. Autistic researchers are every bit as capable of producing excellent science, but their output and recognition can suffer if the environment is not conducive. When forced to operate under constant stress (from job insecurity, social pressure or unclear expectations), anyones productivity and creativity decline; for autistic individuals, these stressors can be magnified, leading to periods of autistic burnout or mental health crises that stall their work[12]. If an autistic scholar cannot comfortably participate in certain activities (like international conferences due to sensory issues or anxiety), they might miss opportunities to showcase their work, affecting their academic impact and visibility.

It is important to note that “excellence” in academia is not just an innate quality of a researcher, but also a function of support and environment. A neurodivergent scientist who might seem to underperform in a harsh, non-inclusive setting could likely thrive and excel if appropriate accommodations and stability were provided. This has led to calls within the research community to rethink how we evaluate excellence and to ensure funding and hiring processes do not inadvertently exclude neurodiverse talent[11]. Embracing different communication styles and providing flexibility could allow more brilliant autistic scientists to rise to their potential, ultimately enhancing scientific innovation.

Management and Inclusion Strategies in Academia

Given the clear value that neurodivergent researchers bring - intense focus (if uninterrupted and unobserved for longer periods of time), original thinking, meticulousness, pattern-recognition abilities, and more[11,2] - there is a strong incentive for universities and research institutions to make academia more inclusive and supportive for these individuals. Recent literature emphasizes that many of the barriers autistic academics face are avoidable or reducible through better management practices and cultural shifts[5,13]. Here we outline evidence-based management considerations and accommodations that can help neurodivergent scientists thrive:

• Flexible Work Hours and Locations: Rigid 9-to-5 schedules or mandatory on-campus hours may not align with the optimal functioning of some neurodivergent staff. Allowing flexible scheduling is a highly recommended practice[14] - that is actually existing on paper but not in reality in many cases. For example, an autistic researcher who finds morning meetings challenging could shift their workday later, or work from home during particularly taxing days. Modified work hours can accommodate those who are not “morning people” (and no having the ability to start “late” at 9 or 10 is not “flexible” at all, starting at noon or afternoon while progressing through night would be) or who have uneven energy levels[14]. As one guide notes, if the job does not literally require a specific timing, there is value in exploring different schedules for different needs[14]. What matters is output and communication, which technology (email, etc.) can facilitate asynchronously. Flexible hours also help autistic staff avoid sensory stressors like rush-hour commutes, which can be overwhelming. In the UK, workplace adjustments commonly include “modifying work hours to avoid a rush-hour commute” for autistic employees[13]. Remote work or hybrid arrangements are similarly beneficial, as many autistic academics find a quiet home environment far less distracting than a noisy open-plan office. Autonomy in choosing when and where to work - as long as real responsibilities (not tasks that are perceived as urgent by management but do not align with actual research prioritis) are met - aligns with the fact that many autistic adults are highly self-motivated and value control over their routine[6]. Academia, in principle, offers more autonomy than other careers (fewer weekly or monthly team meetings or office mandates), and this freedom should be maximized to support neurodiverse researchers[6].
• Clear Communication and Expectations: A recurring theme is the need to replace implicit expectations with explicit guidance. Managers and mentors should strive to articulate realistic expectations, realistic deadlines, and unwritten rules in a transparent way. For instance, instead of expecting a new postdoc to “pick up” how often to update their supervisor, the supervisor could state: “Let’s plan on a 30-minute check-in meeting every Friday” and then also reliably stick to the sheduled times. Autistic employees often appreciate concrete instructions and honesty. A lack of clarity or sudden changes can cause distress. As one autistic PhD student wrote, “unspoken social rules and expectations in professional settings … may seem obvious to you, however to many autistic people they are not”.[14] Therefore, spell out the basics - everything from lab etiquette to grant review feedback - to remove guesswork. Provide agendas for meetings in advance and stick to them; outline the goals for each project phase. Avoid last-minute changes in plans and quick jumping around and shift of focus; if changes are necessary, communicate them with rationale as early as possible. Research on workplace adjustments confirms that modifications to communication processes can be very helpful - like avoiding idioms or figurative language in important instructions (since autistic individuals interpret language more literally), and giving feedback in straightforward, constructive terms[13]. Ensuring multiple modes of communication (written, verbal, visual) can also aid understanding[14]. Essentially, adopt a more cognitive apprenticeship approach: don’t rely on the trainee to infer everything, but actively teach the hidden curriculum and make expectations consistent[9]. This approach not only helps autistic researchers but can benefit all mentees by removing ambiguity.
• Mentorship and Support Networks: Autistic academics often credit good mentors and supportive peers as critical to their success[9,6]. Departments should encourage a culture of mentorship where senior faculty are aware of neurodiversity and ready to coach those who might need extra guidance. Formal programs (like assigning an mentor or having a peer support group) can make a difference, though they must be done thoughtfully (a mentor should understand autistic perspectives, otherwise mismatches can occur)[6]. Many universities in Europe and the US now have neurodiversity networks or disability resources - connecting autistic staff and students, providing counseling, and advising on accommodations[6]. Management should ensure that neurodivergent researchers know about these resources and feel no stigma in using them. Building a community of neurodivergent scholars (even informally, such as lunch gatherings or online forums) can reduce isolation and provide a safe space to share strategies. Additionally, mental health support should be readily accessible: given the higher anxiety levels reported in autistic academics[6], having confidential counseling or an understanding HR department can prevent crises. Importantly, managers should proactively offer adjustments rather than waiting for the employee to ask for help every time. Studies show autistic employees often struggle with the onus of requesting accommodations and may delay or avoid it[13]. A more inclusive management style is to say, “What do you need to do your best work? Here are some options we can accommodate (flex time, noise-cancelling headphones, written instructions, etc.).” This shifts some responsibility onto the institution to create a fitting environment, rather than placing the entire burden on the individual to adapt[13].
• Reducing Unnecessary Social Stressors: While collaboration and discussion are central to academia, it is worth scrutinizing which activities are truly necessary and which are relics of tradition that might alienate some team members. For example, endless large committee meetings or frequent social gatherings (lab happy hours, get togethers, etc.) could be made optional or designed in a more autism-friendly way. Minimize excessive meetings that interrupt deep work, and when meetings are held, try to keep them structured with a clear agenda (stick to the agenda; and perhaps shorter in length, as long meetings can be draining). Some autistic academics prefer one-on-one meetings or written communication over group settings[14]; offering an alternative channel (like an email summary or brief check-in separately) can ensure they remain engaged without forcing discomfort. Likewise, conferences and networking events can be made more inclusive by providing quiet rooms or alternative formats (for instance, virtual attendance options, smaller breakout groups, or scheduled breaks free of social expectations). After large meetings or lectures, allowing people to submit questions in writing (instead of only impromptu spoken Q\&A) or follow up with questions a few days later can help those who need a bit more processing time or are anxious about speaking publicly.
• Workplace Environment Accommodations: Adjusting the physical and sensory environment can yield immediate benefits. Autistic individuals may be hypersensitive to fluorescent lighting, noise, crowding or observation (independent if those are colleagues, the PI or someone else). Simple adjustments like providing noise-cancelling headphones, private or low-distraction workspaces, and adjustable lighting can make a big difference[13]. If an open-plan lab is too overwhelming, perhaps the researcher can use a smaller side office or work during off-peak hours. Temperature, lighting, and noise are all reasonable topics for accommodation under disability guidelines. For example, replacing flickering overhead lights with softer lighting at one’s workstation is a reasonable adjustment cited in literature[13]. These changes are often low-cost but have high impact on comfort and concentration.
• Flexible Definitions of Productivity: Management should also actively counter the culture of overwork that pervades academia. As one autistic scholar pointed out, expecting 60-70 hour workweeks as a badge of dedication is not only unhealthy but also inherently exclusive[14]. Many neurodivergent researchers cannot sustain that level of output without serious harm to their health (nor should anyone be expected to) or their actual performance that may drop radically during such periods. Thus, leaders must reinforce that quality of work matters more than sheer hours, and encourage reasonable work–life balance. Providing real breaks (where no work, quick questions or forced socializing is expected)[14] and respecting weekends/vacations are important for preventing burnout. By valuing rest and well-being, academia can retain talented individuals who might otherwise burn out in the pressure cooker.

In essence, greater awareness and acceptance of autism in the academic workplace should translate into concrete changes in policies and daily practices[5]. As Jones (2023) argues, given the considerable benefits that autistic teachers and researchers bring, universities must implement changes to the physical, social, and structural environment to make academia more inclusive[5]. Such changes not only help autistic staff, but often improve the working climate for everyone (for example, clarity in communication and flexibility in scheduling are generally appreciated across the board[14]). By fostering a culture that welcomes neurodiversity and leverages autistic researchers’ distinctive capabilities, institutions can enhance innovation and excellence in a true sense[11].

Conclusion

The evidence indicates that neurodivergent individuals, particularly those on the autism spectrum, form an integral and disproportionately large part of the scientific community - especially in STEM fields - in Europe and beyond. Their presence is a testament to the alignment between certain autistic traits (analytical thinking, deep focus, precision) and the demands of research. Yet, the academic career pathway as it exists today in many countries is rife with elements that can undermine the success and well-being of autistic scientists. Precarious financing, temporary positions, serial relocations, and excellence-only evaluations create a landscape of uncertainty and implicit pressure that weighs heavily on those who crave stability and clear expectations. Communication nuances and social conventions further complicate navigation of the academic hidden curriculum for neurodivergent researchers. The result is that an environment which could ideally be ideally suited to an autistic person can also be very challenging, as autistic academics themselves poignantly note[9].

Recognizing and addressing these issues is not merely a matter of equity or kindness, but one of maximizing human potential in science. By reducing unnecessary obstacles - providing job security, supporting transitions or not requiring them, offering accommodations, and embracing different communication styles - academia can enable neurodivergent researchers to perform at their highest level. This benefits the individuals and the advancement of knowledge: history suggests that many breakthroughs come from minds that think differently. Conversely, if we allow the status quo to push out talented autistic researchers due to preventable stresses, we lose a wealth of expertise and creativity. Encouragingly, there is growing awareness and advocacy for neuroinclusive academic practices. Universities in Europe and the US are beginning to implement neurodiversity training, inclusive hiring initiatives, and targeted support programs. Funding bodies are also starting to discuss how to broaden definitions of merit and reduce biases. These are steps in the right direction.

In conclusion, the high proportion of neurodivergent people in science might very well be because their cognitive strengths enrich research - but it is incumbent on academic institutions to ensure that the challenges of the profession do not disproportionately hinder these individuals. With thoughtful adjustments like flexible work options, transparent expectations, mentorship, and sensory accommodations, neurodivergent and autistic scientists can thrive. This not only improves their personal career outcomes (and mental health), but also fosters a more innovative, diverse, and “excellent” scientific enterprise in the long run. As Temple Grandin, a prominent autistic scientist, famously implied: without minds that think differently, many great inventions and discoveries would never have been realized[2]. Embracing neurodiversity in academia is thus both a moral imperative and a smart strategy to sustain scientific excellence.

References

• [1] WHO Autism fact sheet
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• [4] Teresa Del Bianco, Georgia Lockwood Estrin, Alexandra Lautarescu, et al. Examining Neurodiversity and Inclusion in Neuroscience Research Networks: A Case Study of the AIMS-2-TRIALS Autism Research Consortium. Authorea. September 02, 2023.
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• [9] Jones SC. Advice for autistic people considering a career in academia. Autism. 2023 Oct;27(7):2187-2192. doi: 10.1177/13623613231161882. Epub 2023 Mar 23. PMID: 36950875; PMCID: PMC10504807.
• [10] Autistic Girls Network, Autistic Communication - the Language Barrier
• [11] Phan, J. M. Navigating Neurotypical Norms in Academic Research: A Perspective from an Autistic Early Career Researcher. Autism in Adulthood 7, 133–140 (2025).
• [12] Cage E, Howes J. Dropping out and moving on: A qualitative study of autistic people’s experiences of university. Autism. 2020 Oct;24(7):1664-1675. doi: 10.1177/1362361320918750. Epub 2020 May 31. PMID: 32476451; PMCID: PMC7575306.
• [13] Davies, J. et al. Autistic adults’ views and experiences of requesting and receiving workplace adjustments in the UK. PLOS ONE 17, e0272420 (2022).
• [14] Bernadette Mary Dineen, Neurodiversity in Academia and Professional Workspaces: Advice from an Autistic Academic