Many people may think of dyslexia as a reading difficulty, or the occasional embarrassing mix-up of letters. For years, I thought that too. But as a dyslexic academic who has spent much of my life wrangling with academic norms, I’ve realised that dyslexia isn’t just a barrier. It’s also a unique and undervalued cognitive strength.
Yes, you read that right. Dyslexia, the so-called “learning difficulty”, can actually make people better researchers. And I’m not just saying this to make myself feel better after the hundredth typo in an email. There’s growing evidence that dyslexic minds bring something crucial to academic spaces. They offer a different way of thinking that sometimes gives them a competitive advantage.
Dyslexic thinkers are notably strong in creativity, visual-spatial reasoning (skills such as visualising objects and understanding spatial relationships) and holistic processing (recognising a whole, such as a face or word, better than individual aspects). Dyslexic people frequently come up with innovative ideas, forging connections between seemingly unrelated concepts, and tackling problems from unconventional angles.
This creative cognitive style has the potential to not only facilitate breakthroughs in research but also enrich our understanding of complex issues, offering fresh perspectives that can drive meaningful change.
The ivory tower
My research explores how dyslexic thinking can enrich qualitative research. This is the kind of research that doesn’t rely solely on numbers but digs into people’s stories, experiences and complexities.
Academia often fails to recognise dyslexics’ advantage in this area. Instead, people like myself are squeezed into neurotypical boxes that frankly feel suffocating.
Academia is an environment that rewards linear thinking, attention to detail and quick reading and writing skills. It’s designed for people who think in straight lines, not loops.
But many dyslexic minds don’t work that way. Our strength lies in seeing the bigger picture, connecting seemingly unrelated ideas, and thinking outside the proverbial box. Yet, the way academia is structured — with endless reading lists and rigid formatting — often marginalises these strengths.
During my PhD, it wasn’t the complexity of the ideas that tripped me up. It was the small details: spelling, formatting and trying to sequence my thoughts clearly. I’d find myself stuck on a paragraph, unable to remember how I’d planned to connect my ideas, while my brain was busy jumping ahead. That’s when I realised: maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe it’s the system.
Challenging academia’s approach
Academia, like many sectors, still operates on the medical model of disability. This views dyslexia as a personal deficit that must be “fixed” through accommodations. Extra time for exams? Sure. Spelling problems? Just use spellcheck.
But the social model of disability argues that people aren’t disabled by their conditions but by societal barriers. For dyslexic academics, the problem isn’t the way we think, but academia’s refusal to adapt to diverse ways of processing information.
For example, academia’s reliance on written assessments stifles dyslexic strengths like visual-spatial reasoning and creativity. Imagine how much more dynamic research could be if it went further in embracing visual presentations, multimedia formats or collaborative projects.
It’s no longer enough for universities to tout diversity initiatives while continuing to enforce structures that work against neurodivergent thinkers. They need to cultivate a profound sense of cultural competency: the ability to understand, engage with and interact effectively across diverse cultural contexts. This should actively create environments where neurodiverse people are not just accommodated but celebrated for their unique contributions.
If embraced, dyslexia could revolutionise research — particularly in fields requiring creativity and complexity. Isn’t research supposed to be about the unique problem-solving approaches and out-of-the-box thinking that dyslexics offer?
This isn’t a sob story about how hard it is to be dyslexic in academia. It’s a call to rethink intellectual contributions. The world faces complex problems that won’t be solved by rigid, linear thinking. Academia need minds that can zigzag through ideas, connect dots others can’t see, and offer fresh perspectives. Dyslexic thinkers are already doing this — we just need academia to recognise it.
