Takiwātanga: A Māori Perspective on Autism and other Neurodivergences and Why It Matters for Leadership

Aug 8
5 min read

In Their Own Time and Space

Words shape how we see people. Especially when it comes to things like autism, ADHD, or sensory processing differences, the way we talk makes a real impact. Do we focus on what someone struggles with—or do we pay attention to how they move through the world in their own way?

In Aotearoa (New Zealand), there’s a word from te reo Māori that offers a beautiful shift in perspective: takiwātanga. It means something like “in their own time and space.” It’s used today as a culturally grounded way to describe autism—and it’s starting to shape how people think about neurodivergence more broadly.

Maori sculptures, New Zealand. Credit to Andy Bridge via Unsplash — Māori Scuplture | New Zealand, credit to Andy Bridge via Unsplash

More Than Just a Word

Takiwātanga was created by Māori linguist Keri Opai to reflect how autism could be talked about in a way that fits with Māori values. Rather than borrowing a clinical term that often sounds cold or limiting, he chose to describe what it actually feels like to live differently—to think, feel, sense, or interact at your own pace and in your own rhythm.

And honestly? That description fits a lot of people—not just autistic individuals. Many neurodivergent people, including those with ADHD, sensory sensitivity, or learning differences like dyslexia or dyspraxia, often experience the world in a different rhythm. Faster here, slower there, deeper in some places, totally overstimulating in others.

Takiwātanga gives us a way to talk about that without turning it into a problem.

Why Language Like This Matters

When someone is described as having a “disorder,” it often comes with a sense that they need fixing. That kind of language sticks—especially in school systems, medical settings, or workplaces. It shapes how teachers treat kids, how managers give feedback, how support is offered (or not).

By contrast, takiwātanga says: this person is operating in a different rhythm. That opens the door to support, respect, and curiosity, instead of correction or control. It shifts the focus from “what’s wrong” to “what’s going on—and how can we meet them where they are?”

It also ties into the wider neurodiversity movement (shoutout to folks like Judy Singer and Nick Walker)—which says that brain differences like autism, ADHD, or dyslexia are part of human diversity, not mistakes in need of fixing.

Why This Term "Takiwātanga" Matters in Real Life

Even if you’re outside Aotearoa, takiwātanga can offer something powerful: a reminder that every culture needs its own way of talking about neurodivergence—one that fits with its values, its relationships, its understanding of well-being.

In Māori culture, the idea of health includes your family (whānau), your spirit (wairua), your emotions, and your connection to the land. That’s a far cry from just checking off boxes on a diagnostic form. So it makes sense that their language would reflect something bigger than a clinical label.

And wouldn’t it be great if more cultures had words like this? Words that bring dignity, context, and care into conversations about how people’s brains and bodies work?

This is especially important for Māori children and families, many of whom navigate systems that weren’t built around their cultural values. The word takiwātanga helps bridge that gap. It offers a way to talk about autism that feels grounded in whakapapa (ancestry), whānau (family), and mana (dignity).

Health providers are also starting to embrace more holistic models, like Te Whare Tapa Whā (Durie, 1985), which includes spiritual, emotional, physical, and social well-being. In that context, takiwātanga fits naturally—it speaks to the whole person, not just a set of traits.

What This Has to Do With Leadership and Work

In leadership, this matters way more than most people realize. When you manage a team, run a school, or build a company, you’re designing environments every day—whether you mean to or not. And those environments can either make space for difference—or shut it down.

People don’t all think the same. Some need quiet before they can speak up. Some need time to process before responding. Some need movement, visuals, breaks, or deep dives into one thing at a time. If the whole system is built for fast talkers, multitaskers, and sensory resilience, a lot of brilliant people get left behind—or burn out trying to keep up.

Takiwātanga invites us to slow down and ask:

* Who’s moving at a different pace here?

* How can I design this meeting, this feedback, this workspace to make space for more than one rhythm?

* What kind of leadership actually helps people show up as they are—without pressure to mask or push through?

That’s where neuroinclusive leadership comes in—like the Gentle Leading™ model or other trauma-informed, rhythm-aware ways of leading. It’s about designing for actual humans, with real nervous systems and different kinds of brilliance.

Let’s Normalize Takiwātanga

The more we use language like takiwātanga, the easier it becomes to talk about neurodivergence with care, depth, and cultural awareness. Whether you’re a leader, a teacher, a parent, or a friend—choosing words that honor people’s experiences sends a message: You’re allowed to be wired differently. And you’re still fully part of this space.

Autism, ADHD, dyslexia, high sensitivity, processing differences—these aren’t side notes to humanity. They’re part of what makes it rich, diverse, and creative.

TL;DR:

Takiwātanga is a Māori word meaning "in their own time and space"—a powerful, respectful way to talk about autism and other neurodivergences. Instead of focusing on deficits, it invites us to recognize different rhythms and ways of thinking. In leadership, education, and everyday life, this shift in language helps create environments where people feel safe, seen, and supported. When we lead with rhythm-awareness and cultural sensitivity, we move toward real inclusion—one choice, one word, one space at a time.

Origin: Around 2015–2016, Keri Opai was commissioned by the New Zealand Ministry of Health to develop culturally appropriate Māori vocabulary for health and disability terms, including autism.
Meaning: He adapted the phrase tōna ake takiwā (“his/her own time and space”) into the noun form takiwātanga.
Purpose: The goal was to give Māori communities a term that would avoid the deficit tone of the English “Autism Spectrum Disorder” and instead reflect a culturally respectful understanding.
Usage: Since then, takiwātanga has been adopted in some educational, health, and whānau (family) contexts in Aotearoa/New Zealand when talking about autism in te reo Māori. It’s included in resources like He Whāriki Manaaki (Māori disability language frameworks) and has been cited in inclusion training.

Ready to lead with rhythm, respect, and inclusion?

My upcoming book Gentle Leading & Neurodivergence dives deep into strategies for building truly neuroinclusive teams and organizations.

Enrollment is also opening soon for the Certified Neurodivergent Leadership Online Course—a practical, evidence-based program designed to help leaders create environments where every mind can thrive.