Designing cities for everyone: What neurodivergent people wish planners knew
Most planners and policymakers agree that cities should be inclusive. But when we talk about inclusion, what comes to mind? Accessibility? Gender? What about neurodiversity?
My latest research reveals a stark reality: even spaces designed with accessibility in mind often don’t work for neurodivergent people. Many environments create barriers that aren’t visible but have real consequences.
Key emerging findings
Over 80% of neurodivergent respondents actively avoid certain public spaces.
Overcrowding—fast-moving crowds, lack of personal space, and unpredictable movement patterns create distress.
Noise levels—loud, sudden, or overlapping sounds (e.g., music, traffic, announcements) can be overwhelming.
Lighting glare—harsh fluorescent lights, flickering signage, and excessive brightness cause discomfort and fatigue.
Smells—strong scents from food courts, cleaning products, exhaust fumes, or perfume can be triggering.
Unpredictability—frequent layout changes, unclear signage, or inconsistent environmental factors add stress.
“I got off the train at Town Hall and had to find a place to calm down. The mix of smells, lights, and people moving in every direction drained me instantly. I avoid the city unless absolutely necessary.”
More than 75% said nature and green spaces were their go-to safe spaces.
Respondents wanted more “nooks” and small retreats built into urban areas.
Spaces designed for “vibrancy” often create stress, not engagement, for some individuals.
Green spaces provide a sense of control and predictability, offering natural sound buffers, softer lighting, and fewer competing stimuli—elements often missing in built environments.
“Public spaces should have more small, quiet areas—benches tucked away, garden nooks, or alcoves where you can take a break without feeling watched or overstimulated.”
More than 60% said they navigate cities differently from neurotypical people, yet wayfinding rarely accounts for cognitive diversity.
Complex signage and transport hubs create navigation barriers.
Many rely on personal coping mechanisms—noise-cancelling headphones, mapped-out “safe routes”—because urban design doesn’t support them.
Poorly placed or inconsistent signage frustrates users, especially in train stations, bus stops, and shopping centers.
Sensory overload in crowded transit spaces can lead to panic, shutdowns, or missed destinations.
“I had a panic attack on a tram because it was too crowded, the lights were flickering, and I couldn’t get off in time. Now I plan my entire day around avoiding peak-hour transport.”
Neurodivergent children and their families face extra barriers, often making outings overwhelming or impossible.
Sensory overload triggers meltdowns in places like shopping centres, markets, and public restrooms.
Parents must manage both their child’s distress and their own, making outings stressful and exhausting.
Crowded, unpredictable environments pose safety risks, as some children flee to find quiet, increasing stress for families.
Social stigma adds to the challenge, with parents facing judgment when their children stim, meltdown, or express distress.
“Every time I take my two AuDHD kids to the shops, at least one of them has a meltdown. It’s unavoidable. I don’t think we’ve ever left without one of us crying.”
Photo of my son (prediagnosis) at a regional train station in NSW.
Image credit 📸: Liesl Codrington
Neurodivergent accessibility is still an afterthought.
Unlike physical disabilities, neurodivergent accessibility is optional or inconsistent.
Respondents called for mandatory quiet spaces in public buildings, less advertising clutter, and car-free pedestrian zones.
Businesses could play a more significant role by training staff, offering flexible queuing options, and expanding sensory-friendly hours beyond supermarkets.
“ND accessibility is treated as optional or ‘nice to have,’ but it should be standard like physical accessibility.”
What this means our cities and places
These findings make one thing clear: our cities aren’t as inclusive as we like to think.
Social sustainability can’t stop at physical access or economic opportunity. It has to include cognitive and sensory accessibility too.
The changes we need—better wayfinding, quiet spaces, sensory-friendly transport, adaptable public areas—aren’t hard. But they do require a shift in mindset. Inclusion can’t be an add-on. If we’re serious, it needs to be baked into how we plan, design, and deliver—from policy to pavement.
Because the way we design our cities shapes who feels welcome in them.
It’s time to widen the lens. To design with difference in mind. And to build places where everyone—truly everyone—can feel they belong.
