Being an Autism Ambassador in the Classical Industry
- Olivia Emily Louise Slatter
- Jun 19
- 2 min read
Updated: Jun 20

Taking on the role of an autism ambassador and speaking out about the challenges of being neurodivergent in the classical music industry—and the wider arts world—was not an easy decision. When you’re sitting in top-level meetings with organisations like the BBC, Guildhall, Disney producers, the Royal Opera House and many others, it’s daunting to speak your truth, especially when that truth could impact your career.
Returning to the industry as a semi- professional opera singer was always going to be complex. I was a child prodigy, thriving in a world that values perfection and discipline. But everything changed when I received my autism diagnosis at 21. Suddenly, I wasn’t seen for my talent or dedication. I was told that I wouldn’t be accepted anywhere, because “no one will have time for you or your additional needs.” That sentence alone was enough to break anyone—but I kept going.
I experienced homelessness, I faced rejection after rejection, and yet something inside me said: enough is enough. People need to know the truth. The industry needs to change.
I’m grateful that I’m verbal—because at one point, doctors said I might never speak. And now, I sing in seven different languages. That shouldn’t just be a success story; it should be a wake-up call. There are so many neurodivergent artists with extraordinary gifts who are being shut out, simply because the system isn’t built for us.
Throughout my education, I was excluded or pushed out of nearly every academic setting—except higher education. But even there, I was eventually forced to walk away. In 2025, it was shocking to realise that my needs as an autistic woman still couldn’t be met, even at that level.
That’s why ambassadors—real people with lived experience—need to be taken seriously. We don’t just represent a community; we carry the scars of systems that failed us. When we speak, we’re not just sharing opinions. We’re sharing truths—often painful ones—in the hope that no one else has to go through what we did.
Give us credit. Listen. Let us help build the future we needed when we were younger.
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