Rethinking Scientific Networking: Neurodivergent Inclusion at Conferences
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
By Michael Wilhide, MS, MB(ASCP)CM
As a graduate student and early-career scientist, I loved attending research conferences. I enjoyed learning about other people’s work, especially research that connected to my own, and I appreciated the moments when people came to my poster to talk about my findings.
Yet one area I consistently struggled with was networking. For many neurodivergent scientists, networking can be some of the most challenging parts of a conference. Unstructured social interactions often require initiating small talk, reading social cues, and figuring out when and how to join conversations.
I still remember attending my first national research conference as a graduate student. I had the opportunity to join a group of 20 to 30 graduate students who were selected to attend a special networking reception with three Nobel Prize winning scientists. It was a remarkable opportunity.
I wanted to introduce myself, talk about my research, and ask about their careers. Instead, I hovered at the edges of conversations. I could join when a small group was already talking, but I struggled to be the person who stepped forward and started the interaction. Looking back, I wish I had taken greater advantage of that moment. At the time, however, my neurodivergent anxiety made what seemed effortless for others feel nearly impossible.
During scientific sessions, I would listen carefully to presentations but often felt like I did not “fit in.” I was afraid to ask questions, worried about being judged by leading international scientists in the field.
I understood how important networking was for scientific collaboration, career development, and future opportunities.
Watching another graduate student from our lab at those same conferences made me feel more out of place. He seemed completely at ease, effortlessly networking, building relationships, and making connections.
More than 15 years later, I no longer see those challenges were not a personal failure. Instead, I recognize them as a mismatch between traditional networking environments and the needs of many neurodivergent scientists.
This is why I believe scientific conferences still have work to do, not just in sharing science, but in making connection building truly inclusive.
Recently I attended a networking event for neurodivergent professionals, allies and supporters, where I felt like I could be myself. What made the difference was that the event itself was intentionally designed with neurodivergent people in mind.
One of the simplest and most impactful features was the use of color-coded name tags that allowed attendees to communicate their comfort level with social interaction. This took away much of the uncertainty and stress that often comes with trying to decide whether to approach someone and start a conversation.
The organizers also provided tables for smaller group discussions rather than relying entirely on large groups and unstructured mingling. For me, it is much easier to join a conversation when there is a clear place to sit and engage with a small number of people.
Later, the event transitioned into a structured group discussion where participants could chime in based on their views and experiences. Rather than figuring out how to interrupt or insert myself into an ongoing conversation, I could simply share my perspective when the opportunity felt appropriate.
Conversation prompts were another effective tool. One of the hardest parts of networking is knowing how to start a conversation. Having prompts available removed that barrier and made connecting with others much easier.
Sensory items were available throughout the event, and I picked up a small blue sensory ball. I found myself squeezing it throughout the evening without thinking about it. Only afterwards, did I realize how much it helped reduce my anxiety, allowing me to focus on conversations rather than my discomfort.
Perhaps most importantly, there was no pressure to network in a specific way. People could engage at their own pace and in a manner that felt comfortable to them. The environment acknowledged that not everyone communicates, socializes, or builds relationships in the same way.
That experience showed me that I didn’t dislike networking. I simply need a networking environment that works with how my brain operates.
After reflecting, I also realized many of these same ideas could be incorporated into scientific conferences. Neurodivergent networking sessions, smaller discussion groups, structured conversation topics, sensory friendly spaces, clear social expectations, and mentorship opportunities with senior neurodivergent scientists could help make conferences more accessible and inclusive.
These spaces would not only help neurodivergent scientists build professional networks. They would help graduate students, postdoctoral researchers, and early career scientists realize they are not alone. They would provide opportunities to learn from others who have faced similar challenges, shared experiences, and build supportive professional relationships.
For many neurodivergent scientists, these small changes could make the difference between standing alone in the corner and building meaningful professional connections.
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