i was fortunate. the person who ultimately started me down the path that led to a diagnosis of adhd is someone who looks like me. a fellow black girl full of #blackgirlmagic. my first face to face encounter of this curiouscrazysometimeschaotic way my brain works was in a similar package.
since then, i’ve read a lot about adhd. and i’ve learned why women and girls–particularly women and girls with mainly inattentive type (like me!)–are diagnosed (and subsequently helped) at lower rates. i’ve also come to realize that there are even less of us magical black girls diagnosed with, and then speaking out about our experiences with this thing called attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder.
i’m doing a lot of exploring what it means to be an adult with adhd. there are amazing resources–organizations, magazines, podcasts, blogs, and books. but almost everything i’ve come across is from the perspective of white people, and usually white men. to some extent, yeah, folks with adhd will likely have some similar experiences, and so i don’t turn my nose up at those resources. but i’ve found myself wondering, where are the women who look like me? i know there are more than 2 of us out there. and our experiences count for something…something more. something different.
i also know there’s a fraught history when it comes to mental health and the black community. i understand why, even when there’s evidence of a school-age child of color having symptoms that would lead to a diagnosis, a parent of color sometimes chooses not to pursue the diagnosis. it’s complicated.
but…representation counts. and i would love to experience more voices from women of color who are on this journey, too.