How to Work with Neurodivergent Talent: Sensory Sensitivity Edition

Why ignoring sensory sensitivity is one of the most common and preventable mistakes in working with ND talent.

She pulled out a container of chicken thighs right before her podcast interview and said, “I know this looks weird, but I eat this every day for lunch.”

I nodded. No judgment. It didn’t strike me as weird at all. Just someone doing what they need to do to get through the day.

When she sat down in the studio, I realised I’d forgotten to explain that she’d be wearing in-ear monitors. She put one in, paused, then quietly took it out.

“It doesn’t feel right in my ear.”

A few minutes later:

“Do the lights have to be that bright?”

I told her yes. We were filming, after all. But I adjusted them a little to make the space more bearable.

Now, if you were watching all this happen and didn’t know her context, you might make a snap judgment.

“High maintenance.”

“Difficult.”

“Demanding.”

Because that’s the stereotype, isn’t it?

Especially when you’re dealing with talent; someone in the spotlight who seems “fussy” or “particular” while everyone else is trying to do their job.

But here’s what shifts everything:

She’s autistic.

And she experiences sensory sensitivity. The kind that getslouderunder pressure.

When you understand autism - really understand it - you realise that light, sound, texture, and temperature aren’t just annoyances. They can be overwhelming.

What feels mildly irritating to you might feel physically unbearable to someone else.

And when those needs aren’t respected or supported, it can lead to full-on dysregulation, especially if that person also feels misunderstood or judged.

So, how do you work with neurodivergent talent - especially when sensory sensitivity is in the mix?

1. Don’t judge. Just listen.

They probably already know their needs seem “different.”

The best thing you can do is let them exist without making it a thing.

Be the person who accepts quirks without commentary.

2. Accommodate without making it awkward.

Lights too bright? Turn them down.

Headphones uncomfortable? Offer an alternative.

Support them quietly, respectfully and without performative fuss.

3. Create a place to retreat.

This is where I fell short. I should’ve booked a quiet room outside the studio. Somewhere to decompress before and after recording.

Everyone needs a breather. For some, it’s essential.

Working with neurodivergent talent doesn’t mean you need to be an expert in autism.

But it does mean being flexible, empathetic, and willing to shift your expectations.

It means letting people show up in the ways that help them do their best work.

We don’t need to pathologise difference.

We just need to make room for it.