Traitors in the Workplace: The Privileges and Penalties of Being Neurodivergent
5 min read
Workplaces often claim to value neurodiversity, but their emotional economies reward behaviours that create ease and punish those that introduce discomfort. Pattern-spotters, whose clarity and truth-telling disrupt group equilibrium, are often excluded, while chameleons who mask effectively are protected. Neurodivergent disclosures are embraced only when framed as vulnerability, not when they expose systemic dysfunction. This double standard reveals a deeper truth: even among neurodivergents, it is neurological wiring – not diagnosis – that often determines who is included and who is exiled, sustaining inequities beneath the surface of inclusion.
Workplaces love the language of inclusion. They celebrate neurodiversity in headlines, host awareness days, and nod solemnly during presentations about ADHD, autism, or dyslexia. But behind the performative affirmations lies a far more complex – and far less equitable – reality: not all neurodivergent people are treated the same.
It is a dynamic that rarely gets named, but one that shapes entire careers, cultures, and power structures. The deciding factor? Not diagnosis, not behaviour, not even intent – but neurological wiring. Or more precisely: the social effect of that wiring.
Because in workplaces, as in The Celebrity Traitors, perception trumps precision. And in ambiguous environments where performance matters more than substance, how a brain operates can mean the difference between being embraced or exiled.
The Two Archetypes: Pattern-Spotters and Chameleons
Whether neurodivergent or not, everyone’s brain played a role in their fate on the show. Some cognitive styles read as safe. Others did not. Contestants who presented as emotionally fluid, socially responsive, or strategically unthreatening tended to be trusted – even when their behaviour was questionable. And although there were very limited disclosures regarding neurotype, the show still laid bare a deeper truth: how someone is wired can matter just as much as (if not more than) who they are when it comes to safety.
For neurodivergents, these effects are exacerbated in emotionally complex systems like TV castles or open-plan offices and neurotypes can be interpreted through two primary lenses: pattern-spotters and chameleons.
Pattern-spotters are neurologically wired to notice. They clock inconsistencies quickly, track emotional dynamics without effort, and feel internal dissonance when the external environment contradicts itself. Their minds are often shaped by dyslexic pattern recognition, autistic truth-telling, or other perceptual-processing differences that favour depth over speed, structure over spin, and accuracy over ease. They are the ones who raise the right flags too early, articulate the uncomfortable truth too openly, and name the invisible dynamics everyone else has agreed to ignore.
Their strength is their clarity. Their downfall is the same.
Chameleons, by contrast, are neurologically wired for adjustment. Their wiring – often shaped by ADHD, autistic masking, trauma-adapted social cognition, or social survival learning – prioritises emotional mirroring, environmental modulation, and adaptive smoothness. They intuit what a room needs and shape-shift accordingly. They blend, soften, and defer when needed. They are masters of relational ease, capable of maintaining harmony even when internally disoriented because they absorb instead of expose.
Their strength is their social camouflage. Their safety depends on it.
Every organisation has them, whether they recognise them or not. Both types are neurodivergent. Both operate differently from neurotypical norms. But only one group is rewarded for it.
The Emotional Economy of Inclusion
This double standard doesn’t necessarily arise from malice. It arises from the emotional economy of the environment. Organisations reward behaviours that create ease. They punish those that introduce discomfort. Chameleon-style neurodivergence maintains the system’s equilibrium. Pattern-spotter neurodivergence challenges it. One smooths over tensions. The other names them.
This is not about who is “better” at their job. It’s not about performance at all. It’s about the emotional effect of your wiring on the group. Who creates harmony? Who creates friction? Who mirrors the collective mood, and who illuminates its dysfunction? In ambiguous or politicised environments, the answer to those questions determines everything.
When Neurodivergence Becomes a Shield – And When It Becomes a Target
As could be seen in the castle, when a Chameleon discloses neurodivergence, it becomes an explanation, a softening narrative, a shield. Criticism is met with a disarming call for understanding of fatigue as sensory overload, quietness as overwhelm, and inconsistency as executive dysfunction. Whether you deem it strategic or sincere, fabrication or framing, the effect was clear: suspicion diffused, scrutiny neutralised. The system forgave. No one pushed further.
Other neurodivergents, however – especially those whose wiring leads to systemic clarity rather than emotional pliability – often find that their disclosures backfire. Instead of being met with understanding, they are met with doubt. Their diagnosis becomes a complication, not a context. Their needs are “too much”, their tone “too intense”, their observations “too sharp”.
It is the same umbrella of neurodivergence. But two very different social effects. Those who mask well, soothe egos, or evoke sympathy are protected – even when their behaviour is capricious or chaotic. Their wiring is read as creative, sensitive, or complex. Those who cannot (or will not) modulate in socially palatable ways are punished – even when their insights are structurally sound. Their wiring is read as difficult or threatening. When it comes to neurodivergence, it’s not about diagnosis. It’s about social consequence.
On The Celebrity Traitors, Cat Burns showed how neurodivergent identity – when paired with strategic social positioning – can function as safety and success. It doesn’t negate her diagnosis. It doesn’t necessarily make her manipulative. It simply reflects the fact that both neurodivergence – and the disclosure of it – are only advantageous if your wiring already soothes the system.
The kind of wiring that prioritises pattern-spotting and directness rarely enjoys that luxury. Even if accompanied by a diagnosis, it doesn’t comfort. It reveals. It reflects. It refuses to collude. It exposes. And exposure is rarely rewarded.
Masking: Labour or Leverage?
Much has been said about the cost of masking – how it depletes energy, erodes authenticity, and delays diagnosis. And for many neurodivergent people, it is exactly that: an exhausting performance that buys temporary acceptance at the cost of long-term well-being. But masking is not always innocent. It can also be leveraged and used to disarm suspicion, manipulate perception, deflect accountability, smooth over inconvenient truths, and protect power structures.
Masking is a kind of social capital. In high-stakes environments, the ability to modulate tone, mirror group energy, or soften clarity – masking becomes an asset. In environments where emotional readability is currency, masking isn’t just a survival mechanism – it’s a strategic tool. Those who can mask well are seen as “safe” neurodivergent. Those who cannot – or will not – are seen as threats. It is this passing privilege that is the root of the double standard.
Why This Matters and The Spectrum We’re All On
We are living in a moment saturated with the language of neurodivergence: masking, executive function, overstimulation, authenticity. But workplace inclusion only stretches as far as the system’s comfort. And that comfort has limits. Those who blend get protected. Those who clarify get punished. Until organisations reckon with that truth – until they examine the emotional architecture that rewards ease and punishes clarity – neuroinclusion will remain a script rather than a structure.
This isn’t a call for special treatment. It’s a call for honest accounting – of how workplaces feel; of who they protect; of who they exile. For while this blog focuses on neurodivergent dynamics, the underlying forces are universal. Because everyone operates on a spectrum of perceptiveness, adaptability, truth-telling, and emotional smoothing. Most people mask in some way, especially in systems where people are taught what makes them palatable.
But for the diagnosed neurodivergent – especially the ones who cannot or do not mask – this spectrum is not a choice, but still a liability. Because the existing double standard doesn’t just sort people into “valued” and “problematic” – it shapes who gets promoted, who gets listened to, and who is forced to leave. Until workplaces confront the fact that neurological wiring – not merit – so often decides fate, they cannot claim inclusion. They can only claim compliance.
