The term “Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA)” has gained attention in recent years as a way to describe a previously overlooked profile of autism. In short, PDA is marked by an extreme avoidance of everyday demands. (Read more about PDA here.)  While “Pathological Demand Avoidance” has provided folks with new language to describe their experience, the language itself can be problematic — particularly the word “pathological,” which implies illness, defect, or dysfunction and is rooted in white supremacy. 

In relationships where one partner has Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA), the dynamic of autonomy and control plays a central role. The PDA nervous system is highly sensitive to perceived demands—whether external (“Can you do this?”) or internal (“I should do this”). Even small expectations can trigger a threat response that looks like withdrawal, shutdown, sarcasm, or explosive defiance.

Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA) is a neurodivergent profile characterized by an intense need to protect one’s autonomy. This can often result in an avoidance of internal or external demands. In intimate partnerships, this can create real confusion, conflict, and emotional distance if not well understood. In couple’s therapy, recognizing and effectively supporting  the PDA profile is essential for healing tenuous connections rather than reinforcing shame or power struggles in the intimate or therapeutic relationships. 

Maybe you know someone who struggles to comply with what seems to be simple requests—brushing their teeth, answering a text message, doing an activity that they want to do. You might be tempted to call them stubborn or controlling. But for people with Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA), it’s not about being difficult. It’s about safety.

When you think of protesting, of allyship, of activism – what do you picture? Maybe it’s people making signs and marching in the streets, maybe it’s folks organizing events or sit-ins, maybe it’s fundraisers and phone chains, or activist influencers known for their fierce advocacy. While all of these efforts are impactful ways to affect change, there are other ways you can join the resistance, too. 

For many disabled folks, it can be difficult to have their pain, issues, and problems fully understood and taken seriously by able-bodied folks – from politicians to doctors, to family and friends. 

The history of disability in the United States is one of resilience and resistance. For much of history – and even today – disabled people were excluded from society, often institutionalized, hidden from public life, or treated as objects of pity or inconvenience rather than as full human beings.

But disabled people have always pushed back. 

There are many well-intended and talented therapists who self-identify as “LGBTQ+ affirming” but are limited in the understanding and skills necessary to be a true ally to this community. Many times, therapists may feel competent enough to provide services to the LGBTQ+ community because they believe “we’re all equal!”, or they enjoy consuming “gay” media.

Want to avoid doing unintentional harm as an affirming therapist who really means well but doesn’t know the queer experience personally?

In a world that often demands conformity, genderqueer individuals embody a powerful truth: identity can go beyond the binary. Identity can be fluid, intangible. It is lived, felt, and continually unfolding. For many genderqueer folks, somatic practices offer a vital path to reconnect with their body and cultivate inner safety. Somatic practices—like breathwork, movement, grounding exercises, body scans, mindfulness, and embodied meditation—invite us to slow down and listen to the wisdom of our bodies.

If you’ve ever been to therapy as a queer or trans person, you may know the feeling: sitting across from a well-meaning, “LGBTQ+ affirming” therapist—and still feeling completely misunderstood. Maybe they fumble your pronouns, offer awkward silence instead of solidarity, or treat your identity like a case study. Even with the best intentions, too many therapists outside of our communities miss the mark.

Pride Month is often seen as a celebration—of love, identity, and community. But at its roots, Pride is also a protest and a riot, a movement born from the courage of those who stood up against injustice. At the forefront of that resistance were Black, Brown, and Indigenous trans women whose bravery sparked a revolution and continues to shape the fight for LGBTQ+ liberation today.