You know what I don’t think gets talked about enough? Justice sensitivity in neurodivergent people. If you know me, you’ll know I’ve always had a strong sense of what’s right and wrong. And while caring about the world’s injustices can be a good thing, it gets a bit more complicated when you feel those injustices too much. And believe me, I feel things far too much, far too often.
There’s been a lot of coverage in the news lately around LGBT rights and the way people perceive autism as a disability. You’d think that by 2025, people would have developed a greater understanding (and acceptance) of these things, but comments from public figures like J K Rowling and Robert F Kennedy Jr show we’ve still got a long way to go.
I’ve chosen these two examples not just because they’ve been highlighted in the media recently, but because they’re both deeply personal to me. As a bisexual woman with autism, these aren’t just abstract issues, they affect me directly. They also affect people I care about—friends, acquaintances, people I admire. And although I don’t face discrimination every day (though I certainly have at times), I know many others who do. And my heart genuinely breaks for them.
And therein lies the issue—I don’t just care about these things in the way most people might (and for the record, you should care), I care so deeply that it often consumes me. And it’s not just limited to these topics either. As a vegan of nearly 10 years, I feel strongly about animal rights. As a woman, I care deeply about women’s rights. And even though I’m not a person of colour myself, several of my closest friends and my partner are, so I care fiercely about racism and racial injustice too.
It’s exhausting. Just thinking about the suffering that still exists fills me with a rage I don’t always know how to manage. Even after all the progress that’s been made, age-old prejudices and ignorant mindsets are still hanging around (and thriving).
If you want to understand more about why neurodivergent people often feel such a strong sense of justice, I recommend reading Amy Marschall’s article Justice Sensitivity Is Plaguing Autistic & ADHD Individuals—Here’s What to Know. But that’s not what I’m here to do today. I’m here to explain why this sensitivity to justice has been such a big issue for me personally.
I should also point out (as some people reading this will already know) that this trait affects my personal relationships too. I’ve had multiple arguments with my partner that began with me saying something like ‘I hate men,’ which escalated into debates about patriarchy and the dominance of men in society. I’ve also ended long-standing friendships without hesitation because I felt something unjust had happened.
For example, a couple of years ago, I cut off a friend I’d known for many years after they made some questionable romantic decisions. More recently, I stopped talking to another friend of over two decades because they cancelled plans at the last minute—plans we’d had in place for ages, and which I felt they didn’t take seriously. And then there was a friend I ghosted entirely just because they didn’t wish me a happy birthday, after everything I’d done for them during tough times in their life.
These things might seem petty or extreme to other people. Maybe they are. But the amount of emotion I felt in response to these situations was overwhelming, and I honestly had to walk away for the sake of my own mental health. It wasn’t that I didn’t care—I just couldn’t keep carrying the weight of those relationships on top of the emotional impact of feeling wronged. Out of sight, out of mind—that’s how my brain tends to work. Once the line is crossed, I move on, and weirdly, it doesn’t really affect me anymore.
In each of those situations, I felt there had been injustice, whether it was towards me or someone else. And once that thought took root, it looped in my head until it was all I could think about. That’s just how my brain works—an endless cycle of ‘this was wrong’ and ‘how could they do that?’ and ‘why does nobody else seem to care?’
But here’s where it gets harder: I can step back from personal relationships, but I can’t switch off from the bigger injustices. I can’t unsee or unfeel them. They’re everywhere—on the news, on social media, in conversations with strangers—and they don’t stop just because I need a break.
Of course, I’ll continue advocating for animals and for the communities I’m part of. I’ll keep standing up for myself and for the people I care about. But the thing that hurts the most is realising how many people just… don’t care. Or worse, actively oppose progress.
I’ve fallen into the trap more times than I’d like to admit of scrolling through Facebook comments on posts about trans rights or veganism and firing off responses to people’s narrow-minded, hateful nonsense. Does it change anything? No. But does it make me feel slightly better to have said my piece? Honestly… yeah, it kind of does.
But I hate how much hate I feel. I hate that it consumes me. I hate that I can’t always pull myself out of it. I care so deeply that I sometimes lose myself in it, and it’s hard to find the off switch when your whole system is wired to fight injustice at every turn.
And yet, there is a kind of beauty in it, too. Because this intense sense of justice also makes me fiercely loyal, incredibly compassionate, and endlessly driven to protect people who can’t protect themselves. It’s just that I’m still learning how to hold that passion without letting it burn me up.