Networking Through a Neurodivergent Lens

I went to my first three-day professional conference armed with a fresh LinkedIn profile, a half-memorized intro, and the vague hope that I’d make meaningful connections. By the end of day one, I felt like I had been hit by a truck made of fluorescent lights, forced small talk, and scripted smiles. I entered survival mode. I was overdressed, overstimulated, and over it.

That’s the reality for a lot of neurodivergent professionals. Networking spaces—especially the in-person ones—are shaped by neurotypical norms. This means there is an unspoken expectation to show up polished, personable, high-energy, and socially fluent, no matter the conditions.

But if your brain doesn’t work that way, it’s easy to feel like you’re doing it wrong. Or like maybe you just don’t belong in the room.

Spoiler: You do.

Why Traditional Networking Doesn’t Work

If you’re neurodivergent—Autistic, ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, or otherwise wired differently—networking can feel like an obstacle course; one that in any other context would require training, protective gear, and a waiver.

You're expected to float between conversations effortlessly, strike the perfect balance of eye contact, and recall names in real time under pressure, like that one person's—his—their—wait, was it Mark? Mac? ACK!

Then there’s the minefield of physical contact: handshakes, back-pats, even surprise hugs; all totally normal for some, but for others it feels like the final boss of the whole experience. And apparently, wearing a shirt that says “U Can’t Touch This” (full MC Hammer reference, sparkles optional) only gets you weird looks, even though it honestly would make things so much simpler.

It’s all just a lot.

And while some people thrive in these spaces, others are left masking their way through it—constantly adjusting tone, mirroring expressions, mentally scripting every interaction, and crying in a bathroom stall halfway through the day.

What Is Networking, Really?

Let’s strip away the buzzword and get honest. At its core, networking is just relationship-building with a purpose. It’s how people find collaborators, get jobs, discover opportunities, and learn from each other. It’s not inherently slimy or salesy, it’s just become coded that way because we’ve watched it play out in high-pressure, high-polish environments that reward the loudest voice in the room.

At its best, networking is about being known and knowing others in a way that creates shared possibility. It’s asking “What are you working on?” or “What do you care about right now?" and actually meaning it.

The best experiences I’ve had, professionally and personally, have all come from relationships built around shared energy, mutual curiosity, or a moment of real conversation. Those connections didn’t come from handing out business cards or delivering the perfect pitch. They came from listening, noticing, and showing up with openness.

That’s why networking matters. Not because someone told you it’s how you move up, but because connection is how we grow, get inspired, stay sane, and feel less alone in the work we’re trying to do. It matters. But it also matters how you do it and whether you’re doing it in a way that makes sense for your brain and your boundaries.

What If Networking Didn’t Have to Feel Gross?

Let’s flip the question: If networking could look like anything—anything at all—what would it be?

Would it look like walking into a room and immediately being handed a sensory map of the space (with quiet zones) and badges with names, pronouns, and physical contact preferences? Would it be meeting someone asynchronously through voice notes, book recs, or a shared Google Doc of ideas you’re excited about? Would it be slow and layered instead of fast and loud?

If we were truly redefining networking, it wouldn’t be about who can make the best first impression. It would be about who’s willing to show up with honesty, curiosity, and care—however that looks for them.

It would look less like a job fair and more like a shared workspace, a late-night group chat, or a long walk with someone who just gets it. It would be built around connection, not flash-in-the-pan charm or charisma.

And what if we stopped defining networking as the thing that happens in conference halls and happy hours, and started defining it as the thing that happens when someone finally asks you a question you’re excited to answer? Or maybe it’s when you lose track of time while sharing ideas or when you walk away from a conversation thinking "That felt good. That felt like me."

I think most of us have already found ways to network that feel better. We just don’t call it networking.

Connect by Being Curious

For me, connection often starts when I stop trying to impress and start getting curious—not performative-curious, but genuinely interested. When I start asking questions, noticing what lights someone up, listening for the thing they can't stop talking about—that's when the connection happens. It reminds me of what we teach in Blanchard’s Conversational Capacity model: stay open, ask real questions, and listen with the intent to understand, not respond.

That kind of presence builds trust fast, and it doesn’t require being the loudest person in the room. Sometimes it’s a deep conversation with one person in a quiet corner. Sometimes it’s a voice note exchange on LinkedIn. Sometimes it’s just following someone’s work silently until the right moment to comment or reach out shows up.

Redefine the Rules

If you’re neurodivergent, you might find that your best connections come from:

• • writing instead of speaking,

  • follow-up emails instead of in-the-moment banter,

  • shared projects instead of small talk,

  • or mutual obsession over something niche and wonderful.

Whatever it is—that counts. That’s networking, too.

One of the best professional relationships I’ve built started from a comment I left on someone’s blog post. No handshakes. No elevator pitch. Just shared curiosity and a thoughtful message.

So let go of the myth that you’re doing it wrong. If you’re showing up with care and curiosity—even quietly, even slowly—you’re already doing it right.

Okay, but What If You Have to Go?

Here’s the real talk: some events, jobs, or industries still reward a very specific way of showing up. And while we’re working to shift that culture, sometimes you still have to be in the room. After all, visibility is important.

How can we make that experience suck a little less? Here are some tips I wish someone would have passed on to me before the three-day conference where I wore a “U Can’t Touch This” shirt.

Before the event:

• • Set one intention. Not five. Not “Meet everyone.” One. For example, “Talk to one person about their creative work.”

  • Prep your exits. Have a few lines ready so that you can bow out of conversations with grace.

  • Know your needs: food, quiet breaks, something to fidget with.

  • Plan ahead. Set reminders on your phone for when you get caught up and lose track of time.

During:

• • Take breaks. Hide in the bathroom. Step outside. Breathe. That’s not failing—that’s resourcing.

  • Find one or two people who seem open and talk to them slowly. These are your allies—your peeps.

  • Be honest. You can say “I’m not great at these events” or “Networking isn’t my thing, but I really liked your comment earlier.”

After:

• • Follow up in your own way. A thoughtful LinkedIn message, an email, or a voice note go a long way.

  • Reflect: Who gave you energy? Who felt aligned? That’s your compass. Reconnect with them.

  • And if something doesn’t feel great afterward—breathe and realize that’s okay. Sometimes the win is just surviving the room.

You Don’t Have to Network Like Anyone Else

Some people hand out 30 business cards. You might start one meaningful conversation that leads to a project, a mentor, or a friend. One is not better than the other.

You don’t need to mask to be taken seriously. You don’t need to network like a neurotypical extrovert to grow your career. You just need to connect in a way that honors who you are—that's leadership.

So start where you are. Lead with curiosity. Trust that your way of connecting is enough. Maybe it’s exactly what someone else in the room needs to see.

Editor’s Note: Lara Dollens is Blanchard’s director of next-gen leadership innovation, AuDHD diagnosed, and neurospicy advocate. Read more of their writing on neurodiversity in our free Leadify app!