8“What does it mean for a child to ‘have a voice’ – and who gets to decide when that voice is heard?”
It’s a simple question, but one that reaches far beyond childhood. For many neurodivergent people, finding their voice, learning how to express needs, set boundaries, and advocate for themselves is something that happens much later than it should.
We often think of self-advocacy as an adult skill, but it begins much earlier, in the small everyday moments where children are listened to, respected, and given space to express themselves.
Because for many neurodivergent people, being heard is not something they were taught early on; it’s something they are still learning.
Across all ages, having a voice shapes how we move through the world. It influences whether we feel able to ask for help, explain what we need, or say when something doesn’t feel right.
Many neurodivergent adults describe learning, often from a young age, to stay quiet, push through discomfort, or adapt themselves to fit the expectations around them. Over time, this can lead to exhaustion, frustration, and a growing disconnect from their own needs.
At its heart, the idea of neurodiversity reminds us that there isn’t just one “right” way to think, feel, or experience the world. And with that comes an important question:
If someone’s experience is different, are we creating space for them to express it?
So why does having a voice matter so much, and what happens when it isn’t supported early on?
Having a voice is about far more than speaking. It’s about being able to express needs, make choices, set boundaries, and feel safe saying “no.” It’s about understanding what helps, what doesn’t, and what feels overwhelming.
When children are listened to, they begin to learn something powerful: my needs matter.
Over time, this builds confidence and a sense of trust in themselves.
But when those signals are dismissed, a different message can take hold: maybe my needs don’t matter, or maybe I shouldn’t trust them.
Self-advocacy isn’t something that appears overnight. It grows slowly, through repeated experiences of being heard and understood. Yet in many everyday moments, children’s voices aren’t intentionally silenced – but they are often overlooked.
This usually doesn’t come from a place of harm. It can look like rushing a child to answer, speaking for them, or brushing off discomfort with phrases like “you’re fine” or “just try it.” Often, it comes from a desire to help, to protect, or simply to keep things moving in a busy day.
But over time, these moments add up. When adults consistently step in too quickly, children have fewer chances to practice speaking for themselves. And sometimes, what we see on the outside doesn’t match what the child is experiencing on the inside.
Because sometimes, the voice is already there, we’re just not recognizing it.
Children communicate in different ways. A meltdown may be a response to overwhelm. Avoidance may signal anxiety. Silence may mean processing, uncertainty, or simply needing more time. Refusal may be a boundary.
When we begin to see behaviour as communication, rather than something to correct, everything shifts. We stop asking, “How do I fix this?” and start asking, “What is this child trying to tell me?”
Because if we don’t recognize the voice, we can’t respond to it.
So, if children are already communicating in their own ways, our role isn’t to speak for them, but to support them in being heard.
This doesn’t mean stepping back completely. It means stepping back thoughtfully.
It might look like pausing before answering for them. Giving them time to respond, even if it takes a little longer. Encouraging them to express their needs in their own way, even if it’s not perfect.
These moments can feel small, but they matter. They give children the opportunity to practice having a voice, rather than relying on someone else’s.
And this shift doesn’t require big changes, it starts in everyday interactions.
In practice, building self-advocacy can be simple.
Offering choices: “Do you want to do this now or later?”
Teaching small phrases: “I need a break” or “That’s too loud for me.”
Encouraging children to ask for help themselves.
Respecting “no” when it’s safe and appropriate.
Allowing time to process and respond.
These small moments give children repeated opportunities to recognize their needs and express them in ways that feel manageable.
Over time, those moments build confidence.
Children who grow up feeling heard are more likely to become adults who trust themselves. They are more likely to set boundaries, ask for support, and speak up when something doesn’t feel right.
For those who aren’t given these opportunities, the experience can be very different. Many adults describe struggling to express their needs, pushing through discomfort, or feeling unsure of how to advocate for themselves.
The ability to speak up doesn’t suddenly appear later in life. It is built gradually, through everyday experiences. So perhaps the question isn’t whether children have a voice, but whether we are creating the space for it to grow.
When we slow down, listen, and give children space to express themselves, in whatever way that looks like, we are doing more than supporting them in the moment.
We are helping them build the confidence to carry their voice into the future. So, in the everyday moments, at home, in classrooms, in conversations, it’s worth pausing to ask:
Whose voice is being heard?
And what small change could we make today to help it grow?
Kelsie Fitzgerald is an Irish educator and SENIA Beijing board member dedicated to fostering inclusive, neurodiversity-affirming learning environments. As Membership Chair, she helps connect families, educators, and professionals across the city, strengthening community support for diverse learners.
With a background in literacy, multilingual education, and student-centred pedagogy, Kelsie focuses on practical, compassionate strategies that make classrooms and school communities more accessible for all children. Her work blends creativity, reflective practice, and evidence-informed approaches to support students’ academic growth and emotional well-being.
She is passionate about helping every learner feel safe, capable, and understood, and believes that genuine inclusion begins with listening to students’ needs and celebrating their strengths.
Images: SENIA
