When Neurodivergence Is a “Difference”… Until It Isn’t
What Alton Towers’ Disability Policy Change Reveals About a Growing Crisis
Recent changes to Alton Towers’ disability access policy have sparked widespread outrage from families of autistic children and people with ADHD. Many parents report that autism and ADHD are no longer recognised within the park’s disability access requirements in the same way they previously were, leaving families confused, excluded, and, in some cases, forced to leave altogether.
This reaction isn’t just about a theme park. It exposes a far deeper and more uncomfortable contradiction in how society understands neurodivergence.
For years, we have rightly pushed back against the idea that autism and ADHD are deficits. We’ve argued, that neurodivergence represents difference, not disorder. That people do not need to be “fixed” to belong.
But moments like this reveal the problem with how selectively that philosophy is applied.
Difference… Unless It Costs Something
When neurodivergence is discussed in education, employment, or culture, we celebrate strengths: creativity, innovation, hyperfocus, pattern recognition. Autism and ADHD are framed as valuable variations of the human mind.
Yet when accommodations are required, quiet spaces, flexible queuing, predictable environments, reduced sensory overload, that same difference suddenly becomes inconvenient.
In the case of Alton Towers, families are being told, implicitly or explicitly, that autism and ADHD do not meet the threshold for disability support in that space. The message this sends is dangerous:
You are different — until your difference requires adjustment.
This is not inclusion. It is conditional tolerance.
The Impact on Families: Stress, Shame, and Exclusion
For families, the emotional impact is immediate and painful. Parents describe children having meltdowns after being denied access support they rely on. Others report feeling humiliated having to “prove” their child’s needs, or being placed in confrontational situations at the gate.
Theme parks are already sensory minefields for neurodivergent people: crowds, noise, unpredictability, long waits, and overstimulation. Disability access schemes were not about privilege, they were about access.
Removing or narrowing recognition doesn’t make those needs disappear. It simply pushes families out.
The Bigger Problem: Public Confusion and Systemic Damage
What makes this especially concerning is the long-term impact beyond a single attraction.
When major public-facing organisations blur the line between difference and disability, it creates confusion not only for the public, but for service providers, educators, employers, and even clinicians.
We end up asking:
Is autism a disability or not?
Is ADHD a protected characteristic or a behavioural inconvenience?
Who decides when support is “deserved”?
This inconsistency weakens the quality of care across all settings. Schools become more rigid. Employers feel justified in withdrawing adjustments. Public services quietly raise thresholds.
And neurodivergent people are left navigating spaces that no longer feel safe, predictable, or accessible.
Neurodiversity Was Never Meant to Erase Support Needs
The neurodiversity movement was about dignity, not denial.
Recognising autism and ADHD as differences does not mean pretending they don’t create disabling barriers in certain environments. Disability is not just about the individual; it is about the interaction between a person and a space that wasn’t designed with them in mind.
A rollercoaster park full of queues, crowds, noise, and uncertainty is a disabling environment for many neurodivergent people. Denying that reality does not make it progressive, it makes it exclusionary.
Who Benefits From Redefining Disability?
We have to ask the uncomfortable question: who gains when neurodivergence is quietly removed from disability frameworks?
Because it isn’t families.
It isn’t children.
And it certainly isn’t inclusion.
When support is withdrawn under the banner of “difference,” organisations reduce cost, responsibility, and accountability, while still appearing socially aware.
That is not equality. That is rebranding exclusion.
Where Do We Go From Here?
If we want a society that genuinely understands neurodivergence, we need consistency, clarity, and courage.
Difference and disability are not opposites.
Support is not special treatment.
Access should not be conditional on how inconvenient it is to provide.
The outrage directed at Alton Towers is not just about one policy decision. It’s a warning signal, that we are at risk of talking ourselves out of the very protections neurodivergent people fought to secure.
And if we’re not careful, we’ll wake up in a world where neurodivergence is celebrated in theory — and excluded in practice.

