By Darian Senn-Carter, Ed.D.
For most of my life, I didn’t have the language to name the way I experienced the world. I’ve always known that I was different. I knew I felt things deeply, noticed details others missed, and often needed solitude to recharge. I learned early on to push through sensory overwhelm, intellectualize my emotions, and carefully manage how much of myself I showed to others. I got good at surviving in environments that weren’t designed with someone like me in mind.
I’m Black. A member of the LGBTQIA+ community. An educator. An author. A philanthropist. A leader. And now, I know I’m also Autistic. That knowledge came not in childhood, but in adulthood after years of therapy, research, reflection, and exhaustion from carrying a weight I couldn’t name. My diagnosis didn’t change who I was. It gave me permission to finally understand and embrace who I’ve always been.
There’s a common narrative that late diagnoses are somehow too late. But I reject that, in my experience. My diagnosis didn’t come too late, it came at the exact moment I was ready to receive it, needed it, hold it with care, and integrate it into all areas of my life with love. It came with grief, yes, but also with clarity, relief, peace, love, and joy. It explained so much: the burnout that left me physically and emotionally drained, the intense focus that felt like a superpower in some spaces and a curse in others, and the way I often felt like I was performing life rather than living it. It gave context to childhood and adulthood where I was called gifted, intense, too much, yet never quite understood. It helped me reframe the parts of myself that had once been labeled as problematic and see them as powerful.
As someone who has spent a career in academia, public service, and public safety, I know how the system operates. I’ve worked with students who struggled to be seen, who were labeled rather than supported, and who rarely saw themselves reflected in their teachers or the curriculum. For so long, I unknowingly advocated for others while leaving myself out of the conversation. I see now how deeply my advocacy was rooted in a quiet, internal yearning to be understood. I also now see how important it is to learn to advocate for myself.
There’s a unique grief that comes with a late diagnosis, especially when you navigate the world with multiple identities that haven’t always been fully seen, understood, or valued. It’s not just about what you didn’t know, it’s about what the world never made space to understand. Being Black and Autistic means navigating systems that weren’t built for either identity, let alone both. Add being part of a non-normative identity to the mix, and I quickly learned to mask, code-switch, and self-edit just to move through the day. That’s a heavy load to carry. For years, I carried it with pride, thinking it was strength, resilience, grit, commitment, and perseverance. Now I know true strength is allowing myself to set it down.
Since my diagnosis, I’ve been on a journey of unmasking, choosing peace over performance, clarity over confusion, and presence over perfection. I’m learning to be more gentle with myself, to love myself, and to fall in love with myself. I’m building routines that honor my sensory needs, carving out solitude to restore my energy, and setting boundaries that allow me to thrive. Okay, I’m still working on those routines, but it is a work in progres. In doing so, I’ve discovered something powerful: I am not broken. I am not late. I am simply me.
The reality is, many Autistic adults, especially people of color, women, and those whose experiences or backgrounds fall outside of societal norms are diagnosed later in life. Our experiences are often overlooked, misinterpreted, or dismissed entirely. That’s why Autism Acceptance Month matters. Not because we need awareness, we’ve been aware our whole lives of just who we are, but because we deserve acceptance, understanding, and belonging without condition. Late diagnoses aren’t failures. They’re awakenings and often lifelines, and with that comes the power to rewrite your story, not to erase the past, but to embrace it with compassion and begin again with intention and love. Love is always the answer.
My name is Darian, Dr. Darian Senn-Carter, and I’m Autistic. And I am finally home.
Dr. Darian Senn-Carter is a dedicated advocate, educator, and author committed to empowering individuals through education, community engagement, and neurodiversity advocacy. As an Autistic self-advocate, he brings a wealth of lived experience and professional expertise to his work in higher education, criminal justice, and community engagement.
With an extensive career spanning education, homeland security and criminal justice, and leadership, Dr. Senn-Carter currently serves as a college administrator and tenured full professor. He has been recognized for his leadership and contributions to creating inclusive environments, and student empowerment. His professional journey includes roles as a professor, administrator, medic, high school college counselor specializing in college access, special educator, emergency planner, city council member, and philanthropist. Dr. Senn-Carter has served as a Member of the Board of Directors for several nonprofit organizations. His dedication to mentorship and student success led him to found multiple scholarship and mentoring programs
His outstanding contributions have earned him prestigious recognitions such as The Daily Record’s Top 40 VIP Award, League for Innovations Excellence Award, CollegeBound Foundation Distinguished Alumni Award, Anne Arundel Community College Transfer Champion Award, Dr. Martin Luther King Zeitgeist Award, Towson University Philanthropic Alumni Award, the Edgewood College Promise Award, and more.
A lifelong learner and dedicated professional, Dr. Senn-Carter holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Criminology and Criminal Justice from the University of Maryland, a Master’s Degree in Homeland Security and a Graduate Certificate in Security Assessment and Management from Towson University, and a Doctorate in Education from Edgewood College. He is a certified Life Coach (International Coach Federation), a licensed Emergency Medical Technician, and a certified Special Education Teacher. His dedication to leadership, education, and advocacy has led him to present at conferences, workshops, and panel discussions across the country.
Passionate about increasing awareness and acceptance of neurodiversity, Dr. Senn-Carter speaks, writes, and educates on the strengths and challenges of being Autistic in personal, professional and academic spaces. His children’s book, The Boy Who Dreamed Big: How Autism Became One Boy’s Superpower, reflects his mission to inspire and uplift neurodivergent youth.
Beyond his professional endeavors, Dr. Senn-Carter finds peace and inspiration in nature, writing, and creative expression. He is committed to fostering inclusive environments where neurodivergent individuals can thrive, and he continues to champion initiatives that celebrate the richness of individual experiences, promote well-being, and create lasting impact.
