'I disclosed my disability at work. I got dismissed.'

Colourful office supplies. Source: Wix

What happens when honesty about disability meets workplace reality? A personal reflection on disclosure, power, and the risks neurodivergent people still face at work.

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It's been seven months since I was dismissed from a job that I loved, and only a few weeks since I emerged from complete burnout from that very same job. Even now, thinking about what happened brings up intense emotions. Anger, sadness, and hurt from realising that people in this world can be discriminatory and get away with it.

My trust in humanity was irreparably shaken.

I spent years working for a small non-profit organisation, and I gave that job everything I had. I believed in its mission and the community it served. I worked hard. I delivered results, including successfully winning over $180k in project grant funding and improving accessibility by registering the organisation as a Companion Card affiliate. I genuinely loved what I did.

In that first year of my new dream role, I didn’t know I was autistic, level two — and neither did anyone else. When I received my diagnosis, so much of my life suddenly made sense: the burnout, the overthinking, the sensory overload that nobody else seemed to notice. I finally had an explanation. I finally had hope that things could improve now that I understood the support I needed.

I applied for the NDIS (National Disability Insurance Scheme) and was accepted. This was such a wonderful result. I now had funding to cover much-needed occupational therapy, speech therapy, and psychology. I felt grateful to live in Australia and to have access to this incredible, life-changing resource. I had already seen how it had helped my son and how this had benefitted our whole family. And now, it was my turn to have meaningful support.

I had also heard the warnings: stories about disabled people who disclosed at work, only to be faced with negative attitudes, denied accommodations, or to be 'managed' out.

But I thought — sincerely — that my workplace would be different.

I trusted the relationships I had built. I trusted the values the organisation projected to the public.

So, I disclosed. For the first time in my life.

I was already working from home two days per week of my total three days. This 'hybrid' work arrangement had been the norm since I started the role, as was the same situation for all four of my colleagues, including our boss. However, then came pressure from the Chairperson of the Board of Directors to have everyone in the office more frequently.

Her reasoning was that the office should be physically staffed at all times in order to welcome any unexpected walk-in people. Given that this particular organisation received less than one unplanned visitor every three months or so (we kept track of these numbers as part of annual report data collection), AND we were all easily contactable by email and mobile phone, our entire team of employees did not understand the need for this.

But she was insistent.

When this preference was first raised, I contacted the CEO privately, and asked for special accommodation to continue the hybrid arrangement due to my disability. He quickly approved this. However, it soon became clear that the Chair was unhappy with this decision.

The mood changed.

At a staff meeting, the CEO issued a formal directive from the Chair that required everyone to work in the office two days a week. 'Me included!' he said, as if that made it reasonable. On the surface, I guess it seemed fair. But I was the only part-time employee. Therefore, two days in the office placed me a uniquely disadvantaged position, where I would be the ONLY employee expected to spend the majority of my designated work time in the office rather than remotely.

I knew this would leave me unable to manage my energy and sensory needs. It was also clear to me that what looked like equal treatment was, in practice, exclusion. And in hindsight, it was absolutely a red flag for what was to come.

Red flag flapping in the wind. Source: Pixabay

The CEO then stated that if we would like an exemption, we could contact the Chair directly with a written request. I replied yes, I would do that.

Hence, then came four full autistically-driven days of intensive deep-dive research and careful crafting/re-writing/editing of a request letter.

I learnt that Australians with disability actually have a legal right to ask for flexible working arrangements under section 65(1) of the Fair Work Act. I checked all the eligibility requirements and I fit everything on the list.

In addition, under the Disability Discrimination Act, employers are required to make reasonable adjustments unless doing so would impose an 'unjustifiable hardship on the business'. Which, in terms of my request to work from home a few days per week and continue to fulfill all the requirements of my role (and beyond), I knew that this certainly would not.

So, I finished my request letter. I was not asking for anything extreme — I was simply asking to continue the hybrid arrangement so I could continue to perform at a high standard while managing my disability. I was asking for more predictability. To work from a more controlled and comfortable environment in order to enhance my ability to focus, reduce stress and sensory overload. That was all.

It would cost them nothing.

I was nervous, so I decided to sleep on it for one more night. Then, the CEO surprised me the next day when I arrived at the office. He said, 'Do you still want to work two days a week from home?'

I was confused and completely taken aback, but then, of course, I said yes.

Apparently, he had spoken to the Chair over the weekend and encouraged the approval of my flexible working arrangements, as I was a 'valuable employee that we should be supporting.'

Well, that was nice to hear.

But, sadly, that was not the end of the matter.

It was in the New Year that my 'work wife' colleague and I felt tension brewing. The CEO seemed to be struggling to meet our eyes, was avoiding being alone with us, and did not even say hello after the Christmas break.

Then came the surprise meeting.

We had our regular staff meeting scheduled for 10.30am, but five minutes beforehand, the CEO popped into the office told us to come upstairs. He did not express this was for anything other than the staff meeting that we were expecting. So, off we went.

But we did feel, quite rightly as it turned out, apprehensive.

As we entered the completely silent conference room, we saw the Chair and Treasurer were seated. Their presence had not been forewarned. So, the atmosphere shifted instantly — it was formal, guarded, and tense. The air felt charged with something we weren’t yet allowed to understand.

And it just got worse from there.

A conference room that looks as cold as the atmosphere in our meeting. Source: Wix.

The CEO stressed that everything we were about to discuss was confidential. We were not permitted to talk to anyone, including each other, or face disciplinary action. This warning was repeated two more times before the meeting was over. From my perspective, the repetition wasn't necessary and felt like intimidation.

He announced that the organisation was undergoing a restructure for financial reasons, and that all roles, including his, were now 'at risk.' We would each have individual meetings in two days' time to review our positions. No criteria. No documents. Just fear, uncertainty, and pressure.

Everyone left the room quickly, leaving my colleague and me confused. I would never speak to our other colleague, who I once considered a friend, ever again.

When my private meeting came, it became clearer how predetermined the outcome was. The Chair, Treasurer, and CEO were present, and my husband also attended as my support person — though he was explicitly instructed not to speak. I was offered a redeployment option: a demotion from manager to 'Executive Officer', requiring 20 hours per spread over five days per week in the office.

Oh, and by the way, it was at this meeting that I was told the CEO role was the only one that was not at risk. In my mind, I was like, Well, duh. You can't make a CEO redundant. Why did they ever claim his role was at risk? Just another bizarre lie in the paving stones of my dismissal experience.

For me, the proffered redeployment role requiring five days a week in the office was not only unreasonable — it was impossible.

When I explained this, the Chair expressed sympathy but said any request would be denied, as the organisation needed someone onsite every day to manage the office. I wasn't going to argue the point. I truly didn't want to be part of this place anymore.

The next day, they wanted a decision whether I would accept the redeployment role via a third in-person meeting. I asked for confirmation that my role was definitively being made redundant before I made a decision. They refused to provide it in writing.

I was so exhausted. Why were they being so cagey, so difficult? I couldn't go back there again. We emailed back and forth, and finally, after I pleaded for 'compassion', they consented to a remote meeting.

This final meeting lasted for about eight minutes. Afterwards, I was angry that they wanted me to come in when they knew it would be so brief. I would have been forced to navigate the emotional and sensory stress of physically attending the office, enduring another one hour commute, and facing these hostile people who I knew wanted me out, all while I was in burnout mode from the last two meetings.

The outcome was effectively predetermined. I disclosed my disability at work. And I got dismissed.

I consulted an employment lawyer. As it turns out, employers who take harmful ('adverse') action because of discrimination may be breaching general protections laws, so I had the option of submitting a claim for damages. However, this would mean proving discrimination in court, facing the organisation leaders again through that process, prolonging the emotional and cognitive stress of the situation, and ultimately, the remuneration awarded (if awarded) may only be enough to cover my legal costs.

I felt completely overwhelmed and wrung out.

But still, I didn't want this injustice to go without the appropriate consequences for all those involved.

As I was considering whether or not to take legal action, I learned that the wider Board of Directors had no knowledge of the specifics of how the redundancy process was handled. They had only discovered the significant depth of governance fallout and workplace issues following the lodgement of formal complaints from my colleague and me, and four other organisation members who had become aware of our dismissal.

Then, approximately one month after all this, came a shocking twist. An Annual General Meeting was held and the Chair and Treasurer were not re-elected. Then, the CEO suddenly resigned, followed shortly by the resignation of the remaining colleague. So there was accountability and some measure of justice for how we had been wronged.

Bronze statue of Lady Justice holding scales. Source: Wix

I had lost my job, and been subjected to an immense amount of trauma, but I found satisfaction in this result and therefore decided not to pursue legal action.

I just wanted to move on.

I needed peace and space to recover.

And I wanted to, eventually, find a genuinely inclusive workplace that valued my strengths.

I share this story now not for sympathy, but to shed light on how disclosure can be met with procedural injustice — and to show that advocacy can produce change.

Systems can respond, and voices do matter.

I am healing. I did find a new, wonderful, supportive workplace. And I hope that by telling this story, other autistic and disabled workers know they are not alone — and that transparency and accountability are possible.

Resources — Australia

If you are considering disclosing your disability at work, or if you feel you’ve been discriminated against, these organisations can help:

• Fair Work Ombudsman (FWO) – Guidance on workplace rights, protections, and unfair dismissal.

• Australian Human Rights Commission (AHRC) – Handles disability discrimination complaints under the Disability Discrimination Act.

• JobAccess – National hub for workplace disability support, including reasonable adjustment guidance.

• People with Disability Australia (PWDA) – Advocacy and support run by and for people with disability.

• People with Disability WA: Discrimination Cafe (PWdWA) – A peer-led event designed to empower people with disability by providing information and support around discrimination and your rights.

• State Mental Health and Disability Advocacy Services – Independent advocacy for individuals facing discrimination or coercive workplace practices.