Growing Up a Black Girl with Undiagnosed ADHD

Do you remember Sophia from the Golden Girls? Picture it! Uptown NW DC…1983! Motown celebrated 25 years, Return of the Jedi hit the box office, and Mario Bros released its first arcade game. I was in the sixth grade in Mrs. Sewell’s class, at the end of my elementary school career.

I’d been a decent student because my mom was in college to be a teacher. Her educational experience was probably one of my saving graces in maintaining As, Bs, and Cs. Mommy was a strong advocate for education because, as she said, “You can’t take that away from someone.” Once you have an education, it’s yours. She was also a fierce advocate for herself as she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis when she was 19 years old. You’ll see why I’m mentioning this fact later. Keep reading!

Rebellion was natural for me, and I had no idea why. I would get into skirmishes with other kids, especially when I saw injustices happening. Inevitably, my mom was a frequent flyer at my elementary school. Corporal punishment had formally made its way out of schools, but teachers and parents, especially Black parents, made secret alliances amongst themselves. Mommy told Mrs. Sewell, that even though she would never do it as she was too dignified, she had permission to pop me if I got out of line.

The report cards tell the tale of my behavior, and the signs were there even then that I had ADHD. The term had made its way into the DSM-III in 1980, but no one was talking about it, especially in the Black community.

The notable top 5 always appeared on my report cards all the way to the 12th grade:

• “Does not focus”
• “Constantly off-task”
• “Needs to pay attention more”
• “Very bright, but… (you fill in the blank)”
• “EXCESSIVE TALKING”

I remember this one day vividly. My elementary school had open-space classrooms, and we worked at our tables. My mom loved to do pop-up visits, and today would be no exception. We were working independently, and I continued, as usual, to engage my tablemates in conversation. Mrs. Sewell forewarned me several times and then just stopped all of a sudden. Good! Let’s chat!

I was blah blah blah blah blah blahhing, and one by one, my tablemates got quiet. I even asked… didn’t you hear me so and so? The entire class was quiet now and staring at me, and classmates pointed behind me. Ms. Leslie, as my friends called her, was sitting there in her electric wheelchair that she had to lug by herself out of the trunk of the car, which was a real physical strain for her. Her eyes were darts, and I was the target. Mrs. Sewell had had enough and called her up to see me in action. Mommy asked if she could borrow the conference room for a moment, and you could hear my classmates say “Ooooooooooo.” OMG. I returned with tears in my eyes and sore hind parts. What did I learn from that incident? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! Working memory is not great with us ADHDers, and there would be more pop-up visits.

I knew I was the proverbial ‘Chatty Cathy,’ but I didn’t know why. Girls are often overlooked and undiagnosed with ADHD because symptoms are less noticeable. It especially goes undiagnosed in girls of color, especially Black girls. We are already navigating stereotype threat, stigma in the Black community that ADHD isn’t real, and the pressure to be twice as good and work twice as hard. This can lead to us crashing and burning or masking the issues. This narrative needs disruption immediately, and it starts with demystifying and conversing.

I am a Black woman who was undiagnosed with ADHD until the age of 38. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, misperceived, and feel very different from everyone else. This journey has shaped every facet of my life, from personal relationships to professional achievements. Now, as the founder of SwiftLyfe Coaching and Consulting, I’m committed to helping others navigate their ADHD journey and unlock their true potential.