OCT 3, 2024 | OPINION | By Kole Petersen
Over the summer, my brother and I visited our local water park, Lion’s Junction. It was 9:00 a.m., two hours before the typical park opening time, and the place was nearly empty. There were no shrieking young kids, the play structure in the middle of the park was absent of its loud bells and whistles and the workers spoke calmly instead of constantly yelling at kids to stop running. Rather than the bustle typically associated with a large public attraction, an atmosphere of tranquility was dancing across the park.
And because of these changes in the park’s operations catered specifically for people with autism and other neurodevelopmental disabilities, my brother had the time of his life.
How amazing is it that people like my brother have a safe outlet to explore and play in the summer months? How special is it that people like my brother can enjoy the same activities as neurotypical people without worrying about experiencing sensory overload? How wonderful is it that so many places across the country and the world are willing and able to adapt their facilities’ operations to the neurodivergent community?
How much does it say about the progress of our society that the same institutions that excluded us 100 years ago are now welcoming us with open arms?
Neurodivergent people, like myself, process the world differently than neurotypical individuals. Because of these difficulties with sensory processing, we experience sensory overload. Although anyone can experience forms of sensory overload, for those with autism and other neurodevelopmental disabilities, overload is much more intense and much harder to deal with. Many everyday situations, especially those that neurotypical people may not be aware of, can trigger sensory overload, leading to intense anxiety, discomfort and meltdowns.
For instance, I experience extreme discomfort when I notice styrofoam rubbing, sensing a constant whirring noise I can’t discern the origin of, hearing loud music in conjunction with perceiving tight spaces, and much more. It’s no surprise, then, that being in movie theaters, amusement parks, museums and other public places can cause people like me to experience overwhelming sensory overload. Whether it be a feeling of indescribable yet immense pressure, somatosensory stress, or a so-called “motion madness,” enjoying the same activities as a neurotypical person is a nearly impossible ordeal.
However, even with the sensory overload that I and millions of other neurodevelopmentally disabled people feel every day, we now live in a world that enables us to participate in the very activities that unknowingly yet inherently exclude us. These types of activities provide a well-needed escape from overstimulation, but they also facilitate increased participation, greater social inclusion, improved well-being and broader accessibility for those of all abilities, including those with anxiety and PTSD.
Movie theaters are one of the most common spaces people think of when they imagine sensory-friendly accommodations, for very good reason. For instance, Grand Avenue Theater, my town’s modern-day movie theater, frequently holds sensory-friendly screenings of popular movies. To ensure the comfort of every attendee, they hold these screenings at less popular times, use lower lighting, turn the sound system down to a moderate level, and provide enough space for caregivers.
As a kid, these sensory-friendly movie experiences were incredibly valuable; I was able to watch the “Despicable Me” movies while not having to worry about any meltdown-inducing external stimuli, allowing me to focus on the movie itself rather than being scared of existing in a public place. Sensory-friendly movie experiences have only grown more widespread with the 15-year-long partnership between AMC Theaters and the Autism Society. Over 150 participating theaters turn the lights up, turn the sounds down and provide space for everyone to feel fully free to be themselves.
Thankfully, movie theaters are not the only establishments that have adapted to the needs of neurodivergent individuals. I already mentioned Lion’s Junction’s efforts to include the neurodivergent community, but many other amusement parks have taken steps to create a permanently inclusive environment for neurodivergent guests. Dollywood added a Calming Room specifically designed to help kids calm down from sensory overload. LEGOLAND created a free “HERO Pass” granting those on the autism spectrum the ability to bypass standby lines at popular attractions, access to quiet rooms and step-by-step walkthroughs of rides to give warnings about loud noises and other overwhelming stimuli. Aquatica Orlando became the first autism-certified water park in 2019, with all of its staff getting specialized training allowing them to completely cater to children on the autism spectrum.
I could go on listing sensory-friendly experiences, but the sheer number of places that provide accommodations for the neurodevelopmentally disabled is almost overwhelming to me. 20-years ago, these types of experiences were almost nonexistent, forcing neurodivergent people to either force their way through the sea of sensory overload or hide away from the outside world, with both options unintentionally furthering narratives of stigmatization. Now, the neurodivergent community can freely enjoy the same activities as their neurotypical counterparts without fear of ableism or overload, and that sense of inclusion is truly beautiful to me.