A New Approach to DEI and Special Ed

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After serving more than a decade representing autistic people before the federal government, I’ve learned the importance of listening respectfully to both sides of an issue and trying to understand both perspectives. When President Trump issued the executive orders ending DEI and special ed supports in the federal government, I was not surprised because I’d heard his arguments from people addressing the Interagency Autism Coordinating Committee, the body responsible for presenting the strategic plan for autism to Congress every year.

I was well aware of anti-DEI sentiments from the broad public, even as they were largely ignored until now. We have all heard someone say, “If only I were Black/female/a disabled vet/LGBTQ, I’d have gotten that job/promotion/research grant/appointment." That phrase has become ubiquitous in American education, academia, industry, and nonprofit organizations.

Like many others, I had long ignored those complaints because I felt society had a duty to give more opportunities to formerly disadvantaged groups. I never thought about the resentment such policies caused among millions who felt they were denied opportunity.

The same thing happened in public school, where massive amounts of money are poured into costly therapies for children with special needs, even as other children are denied the same supports because they don’t qualify. If this is a public school, people argued, how can some of its services be reserved for a select few students? It’s not fair, they said. When I heard that from parents, who simply wanted help for their children, what could I do but agree?

The result of those dynamics was a strong undercurrent of resentment among people who felt they had been wronged by well-intentioned initiatives originally intended to do right by other groups of people.

In every presidential election in my memory, the elimination of DEI or special ed was never a topic of discussion. This time was different. Americans elected a president who vowed to tear down the old order, and this was one of the things to go. Now that it’s happened, and I feel I understand the reasons for this action, I realize this is an opportune moment to forge a better way forward, at least regarding neurodivergent people.

We could start by accepting that DEI did, at some level, take away opportunity from people the efforts did not target. If you have one job, such as college provost, and you give preference to candidates from marginalized groups, that does tip the balance subtly against non-marginalized people. The counter-arguments or the degree to which people were really affected do not matter now. The fact is, people held that view, and elected an administration that vowed to change things, and they did.

While the ideals of DEI hiring initiatives were noble, they seem to potentially fly in the face of individual hopes, dreams, and pride. In the neurodiversity space, I have long argued that DEI plans like Autism at Work are failures because they have never helped a significant number of autistic people. They were always held back by stigma. The vast majority of people who want to work want to be hired because they will be the best teacher/engineer/accountant/whatever. No one wants to be the best “Autism at Work hire.” No one wants to be the DEI hire.

Yet the supports offered to people in the Autism at Work programs were empowering and can help any new hire be successful. Who wouldn’t want access to a coach to talk through problems in the first weeks on the job? Wouldn’t you like some occasional accommodations the AaW people get, like the ability to wear noise-cancelling headphones, or work in different spaces or at odd hours? Of course you would. Rather than lament the loss of those programs, organizations have a chance to step up their game and offer the special supports given to people in DEI programs to everyone who feels a need for them.

The same thing is true in public school, in special ed. The federal laws relating to making education accessible have not changed. If kids come to school with language or behavioral challenges, the school is required to help. But this help is expensive, and school boards are cheap. Some have attitude problems, thinking they toughed out school, and today’s kids can too. Telling school districts they can’t be so restrictive in who they help is surely something many would applaud.

Will it cost more? Probably. Better things do cost more, most of the time. But it doesn’t have to break the bank. We could mandate reasonable accommodations like extra time (currently limited to “qualified” special ed students) to be available to anyone. We could mandate schools to be built to be more accommodating—more natural light, softer surroundings, and space to decompress when we need it. In making those requests, special ed kids are truly the canaries in the coal mine. They and their parents fight for those things, but they truly can benefit everyone, and the right next step is to open them up.

If I were a kid in school today, I would much rather be getting special therapy in a program open to everyone, than I would be in a special program that could subject me to marginalization, bullying, and stigma—that is what today’s programs can do.