I was scrolling recently and came across a post about how to handle difficult interactions during live business events — the awkward moments, the challenging participants, the things that can go sideways when you’re on camera in real time. Good topic. Useful content. And the framing, whether intentional or not, seemed to speak directly to neurodivergent people navigating those exact situations.
So I asked: had she set the event up to be accessible to neurodivergent participants?
Her response was to ask me — publicly, and then by DM — what specific accommodations I personally needed. She mentioned, with good intentions, that she was neurodivergent herself, and that because no two neurodivergent people need the same thing, she handled it case by case.
She’s not wrong that no two neurodivergent people are the same. But she’s missing something important. And I’d rather show her — and you — what that is than just leave it there.
Why “just ask” isn’t the answer
Asking people to request accommodations individually puts the entire burden on the person who is already navigating barriers. It requires them to identify what they need — which isn’t always straightforward. It requires them to out themselves in a context where they may not feel safe doing so. It requires them to trust that asking won’t change how they’re perceived, or whether they get a spot in the event, or how the host treats them once they’re in the room.
Most neurodivergent people have done that calculation a thousand times. Many of them have decided it’s not worth it and quietly not shown up to things that could have helped them.
Universal design removes that calculation entirely. You build accessibility in from the start. Nobody has to ask for anything. Everyone just gets to participate. And crucially — when you build it in from the start, you also signal that this is a space where asking for additional needs is welcome and likely to be genuinely heard. If you include an access needs question in your event onboarding, you’re not just collecting information. You’re telling people: we thought about this before you arrived, and we’re still listening.
What neurodivergent people are actually experiencing in your webinar
When someone with ADHD joins your live event, they’re managing sustained attention in an environment full of competing stimuli — the chat moving, notifications firing, the effort of staying present while also taking notes while also following what you’re saying. When their mind drifts, which it will, there’s no way to rewind.
When someone autistic joins, they may be managing sensory input from multiple video feeds, processing your language more literally than you intended, and spending significant energy on the social performance of being visibly engaged — all while trying to absorb the actual content. Unexpected format changes or open-ended unstructured moments can tip the whole thing over.
When someone with dyslexia joins, your text-heavy slides are moving faster than they can read them. The chat is a wall of words arriving in real time. They’re working harder than everyone else in the room just to keep up, and falling behind feels visible.
When someone with anxiety joins, they’re managing the fear of being called on, the self-consciousness of being on camera, the anticipatory worry about whether they’ll be able to contribute meaningfully. The event hasn’t even started and they’ve already rehearsed leaving early.
When someone with sensory processing differences joins, the combination of multiple video feeds, background noise, bright slides, and notification sounds can move from uncomfortable to genuinely overwhelming faster than you’d expect.
These aren’t edge cases. These are your participants. Many of them haven’t told you.
The good news: most of it overlaps
Here’s what makes this manageable: you don’t need a different event for every neurotype. The accommodations that help autistic participants largely help participants with ADHD. The things that reduce anxiety also reduce sensory overload. Universal design for learning isn’t about building twelve different versions of your event — it’s about building one version that removes the most common barriers at the source.
In practice, that looks like this:
Before the event: Share your agenda, slides, and any pre-reading at least 48 hours in advance. Not as a nice-to-have — as a default. This alone helps with ADHD preparation, autistic predictability, dyslexic processing time, and anxiety about the unknown.
During the event: Turn captions on. Make camera-off the default, not an exception people have to ask for. Prioritise chat and Q&A tools alongside verbal participation — have someone monitoring and reading out chat contributions so they’re part of the conversation, not a sidebar. Keep your slides clean: high contrast, sans-serif fonts, no unnecessary animation. Build in breaks. Keep segments short. Announce transitions.
After the event: Record it and share it promptly, with captions and a transcript. This isn’t just for people who missed it — it’s for everyone who was there and needs to process it again at their own pace, which is a lot of people. Leave a window open for questions after the recording goes out, and share the answers with the whole group. The questions people ask after they’ve had time to process are often the best ones, and the answers are content everyone benefits from.
Always: Use plain language. Avoid idioms where you can, or explain them when you use them. Speak at a pace that allows processing. One speaker at a time.
Tell people what you’ve done
Accommodations only work if people know they exist. A neurodivergent person deciding whether to register for your event is doing a risk assessment. They want to know: is this going to be worth the energy it costs me? Is this space going to work for me or am I going to spend the whole time managing?
Your accessibility statement answers that question before they have to ask.
Put it in your event invitation. Put it on your sales page. Make it visible, not buried in an FAQ. Something like:
“This event includes live captions, a full recording with transcript, pre-shared slides and agenda, and chat participation as an equal alternative to verbal contribution. Camera-off is always welcome. Materials will be sent 48 hours before we start. If you have additional access needs, you’re welcome to get in touch — but these are our defaults, not exceptions.”
That last line matters. You’re telling people: we built this for you already. You don’t have to justify yourself to get in.
The legal bit — Australia
This isn’t just good practice. In Australia, the Disability Discrimination Act 1992 covers the provision of services — which includes online events, webinars, and workshops. Inaccessible design can constitute indirect discrimination: imposing conditions that disadvantage people with disabilities without reasonable justification. Reasonable adjustments are required where they don’t cause unjustifiable hardship.
For most of what’s described in this post — turning captions on, sharing materials in advance, allowing camera-off — the hardship argument doesn’t hold. These are low cost or no cost. They’re just not the default yet.
The Australian Human Rights Commission has published a practical guide specifically for online meetings and events: Hosting Accessible Inclusive Online Meetings Guide. It’s worth bookmarking.
What good actually looks like
The Australian Psychological Society models neuroaffirming practice in their own events — flexible participation, AI-generated session summaries for post-event access, sensory considerations built into their webinar design.
Autism Spectrum Australia co-designs their workshops and webinars with Autistic staff. On-demand access is standard, not an afterthought.
The NeuroDiversity Hub, led by Barb Cook, runs live interactive webinars with replay access, clear structure, and practical neuroaffirming content — and treats accessibility as the baseline, not the upgrade.
None of these organisations are doing anything technically complex. They’ve just decided that accessibility is the default, not the exception.
Why would you not?
None of this is hard. Most of it costs nothing but a small amount of forethought. Share your materials early. Turn the captions on. Let people use the chat. Record the session. Keep your slides simple. Build in a break.
These aren’t special accommodations for a niche audience. They make your event better for everyone — clearer, calmer, more considered. The people who have been quietly skipping events because nobody made space for them get to show up. The people already in your community get a better experience. Everyone wins.
The woman who prompted this post had good intentions. She just didn’t know what she didn’t know. Now you do.
Nelle