“Fair” isn’t fair: What distributive justice really means for neurodivergents

Reading time: 3 minutes

Have you ever been told you’re not trying hard enough, even when you’re giving it everything you’ve got?

If you’re neurodivergent, that might sound all too familiar. You show up. You push through. But somehow, it still feels like you’re falling short.

But the truth is, it’s not you. It’s the environment. And distributive justice is the lens that helps us see that clearly.

So, What Is Distributive Justice?

Distributive justice is about redefining fairness. Not as “treating everyone the same,” but as “meeting people where they are.”

It’s a concept rooted in disability justice, and it completely flips the script on what most people think fairness looks like.

Giving everyone the same thing might seem equal, but it’s not always equitable. If you hand out identical bikes to a 6-foot-tall adult, a child, and someone who uses a wheelchair, you’re technically being equal, but not remotely fair.

Distributive justice says: let’s stop pretending that sameness equals justice. Let’s actually give people what they need.

For Neurodivergents, Fairness Looks Different

Fairness isn’t one-size-fits-all. For those of us who are autistic or ADHD, it might look like:

• Pacing your work without a ticking clock
• Access to low-stimulation zones when the world gets too loud
• Options to communicate without picking up the phone (hello, email and text!)
• Deadlines that flex with your energy, not just the calendar
• Freedom to move, fidget, or stim without side-eyes or shame

They’re the basic things that help us function as neurodivergents. Distributive justice frames these supports as essential, not as favors, not as exceptions, and definitely not as burdens.

Because expecting everyone to thrive in a system designed for one type of brain isn’t fair. It’s exclusion dressed up as neutrality.

What Happens When Support Isn’t Built In?

When we don’t get the support we need, we start to believe we’re the problem. That inner voice gets louder: “Why can’t you keep up?” “Why are you like this?” “Everyone else is managing, so why can’t you?”

That voice is internalized ableism, and it grows in environments where distributive justice is missing.

But when our needs are recognized and honored, that voice quiets down. We begin to replace self-blame with self-trust.

Neurodivergent Needs Aren’t Static, and Our Support Shouldn’t Be Either

Here’s something most systems don’t account for: neurodivergence isn’t always consistent.

Some days, we’re on top of everything. Other days, replying to one email feels like climbing Everest.

Distributive justice acknowledges this fluctuation. It calls for support that adapts, because the alternative is forcing people to constantly prove their struggles just to receive basic accommodations.

This kind of flexibility is the heart of equitable access.

If You Have to Mask, It’s Not Real Inclusion

Masking refers to all the ways we learn to hide or shrink ourselves to “fit in.”

We suppress stims, avoid saying what we really mean, force eye contact, and memorize social scripts. Just to seem “normal.” Just to be accepted.

But any space that demands you abandon your authenticity isn’t inclusive. It’s conditional.

Distributive justice asks a better question: not “how can you fit in?” but “how can this space meet you halfway?”

This Is Bigger Than Just Accommodations

Distributive justice goes beyond support, touching on everything from policy to representation.

Who designs the systems? Who decides what help looks like? Who gets a voice in shaping solutions?

Too often, it’s not neurodivergents. And that needs to change.

Real justice means redistributing power, not just resources. It means recognizing the emotional labor we already carry—educating others, self-advocating, masking—and shifting some of that burden off our shoulders.

Final Thoughts

Thriving shouldn’t be something we have to earn by pushing ourselves to burnout.

Distributive justice is about building environments that adapt to our needs, instead of demanding we mold ourselves to theirs. It’s about designing systems where neurodivergent people don’t have to fight for the basics.

Because when the world stops asking us to prove we’re worthy of support—and simply offers it—we stop surviving and start thriving.

What would distributive justice look like in your life?