When I first started thinking about Neuro Spicy Collective, I knew I wanted to build a community.
A place where neurodivergent people could feel welcome.
A place where families, friends, caregivers, professionals, and anyone who wants to better understand neurodiversity could come together.
A place where being a little different wasn't something you had to apologize for.
And then I started thinking bigger.
Because the more I thought about what Neuro Spicy Collective could become, the more I realized that a website and an online community were only part of the dream.
“I want to create awareness in the real world, too.”
That's where Neuro Spicy Awareness comes in.
A New Idea With a Big Goal
Neuro Spicy Awareness is something I'm just beginning to build.
In fact, it's really just getting started.
I recently purchased the domain neurospicyawareness.com, and I'm beginning the process of figuring out what it will take to turn this idea into an actual charitable organization.
My ultimate goal is to establish Neuro Spicy Awareness as a federally recognized 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.
And if I'm being completely honest, that sentence sounds a lot easier than the reality behind it.
There is paperwork... A lot of paperwork.
And there is a whole lot of stuff that makes me look at a stack of forms and think, “Well...this should be fun.”
But I've been involved with nonprofit organizations before, particularly within the LGBTQ+ community, so I have some idea of what I'm getting myself into.
I also know how important that structure can be.
Why Go Through All That Work?
Because awareness matters.
There are a lot of people who don't understand neurodiversity. If the terminology itself is new, we also have a plain-language look at what “neuro spicy” means.
Some people have never heard the term.
Some people have heard it but don't really know what it means.
Some people have outdated ideas about what neurodivergence looks like.
And some people are living with their own differences—or supporting someone they love—without having the language, resources, or community they need.
I believe education and awareness can change that.
Not by telling people there is one “right” way to think, communicate, learn, work, or experience the world.
Quite the opposite.
I want to help create communities where people understand that human brains come in a lot of different varieties.
Where differences aren't automatically treated as problems.
Where people can learn without shame.
Where families can find resources.
Where people can ask questions.
And where neurodivergent people themselves have a voice in the conversation.
A Beer Garden, a Festival, and a Case of Mistaken Assumptions
I know this because I've seen it happen to someone I love.
My brother, Ernie, loves going to festivals in Portland.
One of his favorite things to do is go to the Portland Rose Festival, where the waterfront fills up with the fair, carnival rides, food, games, and all the other things that make a festival a festival.
And, for reasons that I still find slightly amusing, one of Ernie's favorite traditions is going to the beer garden and ordering one light beer.
That's it.
One.
He's not there to get drunk. In fact, my brother has never been drunk in his life.
I've thought about why that one beer seems to matter to him, and I've talked with other people about it, too.
I think part of it is that he wants to participate in something that other adults do.
He wants to have the experience of going into the beer garden, ordering a beer, and being part of the crowd.
In his words, he wants to feel like a “normal” person.
Last year, though, something happened that really bothered him.
When he tried to enter the beer garden, security stopped him.
They told him he appeared to be drunk and wouldn't let him in.
Except he wasn't drunk.
Not even close.
My brother sometimes mumbles to himself. His speech is different from what many people expect. He also doesn't have the greatest balance in the world.
Put all of those things together, and I can understand how someone who doesn't know him might make a quick assumption.
But that's the problem. It was an assumption.
He wasn't drunk.
He was being himself.
And he went home incredibly disappointed.
“Next time, tell them you're autistic.”
That's what I told him afterward.
Now, I don't think my brother should have to announce that he's autistic just to be treated fairly.
That's not really the point.
The point is that the people making the decision didn't know what they were seeing.
They saw someone who was mumbling, had an unusual speech pattern, and didn't have perfect balance.
They interpreted those things as signs of intoxication.
And I can't necessarily blame the individual security officers for not recognizing what was actually happening. They're seeing hundreds or thousands of people during an event. They're trying to keep people safe. They're looking for signs that someone may be impaired.
But what if they had also been trained to recognize some of the ways neurodivergence can present?
What if the response to unusual speech, movement, or behavior wasn't automatically, “This person must be drunk”?
What if awareness gave them another possibility to consider?
Different doesn't automatically mean dangerous, rude, difficult, intoxicated, or incapable. Sometimes it simply means different.
Maybe the outcome would have been different.
Maybe Ernie would have gotten to enjoy his one light beer and go ride the carnival rides.
And maybe he wouldn't have gone home feeling like he didn't belong.
This Is Why Awareness Matters
I don't tell this story because I think those security officers were bad people.
I don't think they woke up that morning intending to exclude someone.
I think they made a decision based on what they thought they were seeing.
And that's exactly why awareness matters.
When we don't understand something, we fill in the blanks.
Sometimes we fill them in correctly.
Sometimes we don't.
A person who doesn't make eye contact might be interpreted as rude.
Someone who is pacing might be considered disruptive.
Someone who talks to themselves might be considered strange.
Someone with unusual speech or movement might be considered intoxicated.
Someone who becomes overwhelmed in a crowded environment might be labeled difficult.
But there may be a completely different explanation.
The more we understand those differences, the better equipped we are to respond appropriately.
From Awareness to Action
Eventually, I'd love for Neuro Spicy Awareness to be able to do more than put information on a website.
I'd like to see community events.
Awareness campaigns.
Partnerships with other organizations.
Opportunities for people to connect with one another.
And, hopefully, projects that make a tangible difference in the communities we serve.
I'd love to see a future where someone working security at a festival has at least a basic understanding of neurodivergent behavior.
Where teachers, employers, first responders, event staff, businesses, and community organizations have better tools for recognizing and responding to neurodiversity.
Where families don't constantly have to explain why someone they love behaves differently.
And where neurodivergent people don't have to prove that they're “normal” before they're allowed to participate.
THAT'S THE DREAM
A community that doesn't just talk about making a difference—but actually works toward making one.
We're not there yet.
Not even close.
Right now, I'm at the beginning of a very long road involving paperwork, planning, learning, and probably more than a few moments of wondering why I decided this was a good idea.
But every organization has to start somewhere.
One Big Neuro Spicy Family
My long-term vision is for Neuro Spicy Awareness to become part of the larger Neuro Spicy Collective family.
Neuro Spicy Collective is the community we're building through neurospicyoregon.com.
Neuro Spicy Awareness would allow us to pursue a charitable mission focused on education, awareness, outreach, and community impact.
They're different pieces of the same bigger idea.
And while I'm still figuring out exactly what that relationship will look like from a legal and organizational standpoint, I know what I want the bigger picture to feel like:
“A community that doesn't just talk about making a difference—but actually works toward making one.”
We're Just Getting Started
I don't want to pretend that Neuro Spicy Awareness is already some giant nonprofit organization.
It isn't.
Right now, it's an idea.
It's a domain name.
So that's where we are.
At the beginning.
I don't know exactly where this journey will take us yet.
I don't know how quickly we'll get there.
And I certainly don't have all the answers.
But I know what I hope to build.
I want to help create communities where neurodivergence is understood instead of misunderstood.
And where inclusion leads to real opportunities for people to participate, connect, and thrive.
That's a pretty big dream.
We're Just Getting Started
Neuro Spicy Collective is just getting started.
And Neuro Spicy Awareness is one of the places we're hoping this journey will take us.
If you'd like to watch us figure it out as we go, you're invited.
There will be paperwork.
There will be mistakes.
There will be learning.
And hopefully, there will be a whole lot of good things along the way.
Maybe someday, someone like Ernie will walk into a festival, order his one light beer, and nobody will have to wonder whether he belongs there.
Because they'll understand.
That's the kind of awareness we're working toward.
Keep it spicy!