More Than What You See: Sarah Hope on Sport, Autism, and Advocacy

We're honoured to share the story of Sarah Hope — a former GB women's wheelchair basketball player and current para ice hockey athlete. Sarah is autistic, has a physical disability, and is a powerful advocate for disability and neurodivergence in sport and life.

Sarah's story is one of self-discovery, adaptation, and resilience. Diagnosed later in life with autism and hereditary peripheral neuropathy, she explained how uncertainty was often harder than the physical challenges themselves:

"It wasn’t just the not being able to run — it was the not knowing why. My brain couldn’t settle. I needed something to hold onto, a label, an explanation. That uncertainty was harder than any of the physical stuff."

Her diagnosis journey was long, and her path to elite sport was anything but linear. But in sport, she found structure, purpose, and a community that made her feel seen. Starting in wheelchair basketball, Sarah found empowerment not just through movement but through the people around her:

"Sport helped with that... suddenly I'm surrounded by other people with physical challenges that just get on with life. If they can do it, I can do it."

Sarah also speaks candidly about the duality of living with a visible and invisible disability. While people often empathised with her as a wheelchair user, they were less likely to understand her autistic needs:

"People will overplay the impact of the physical disability and underplay the impact of the neurodivergence."

This misjudgement often left her without the support she needed in high-performance sport. She reflected on how, despite telling professionals about her autism, it was still on her to explain what she needed:

"There isn't that support network in place within sport to help athletes figure that out themselves... The onus is on the athlete."

One particularly powerful moment she shared was the decision to step away from elite basketball due to burnout. The pressure to meet the expectations of high-performance sport while self-managing her neurodivergence eventually became unsustainable:

"I was told, 'This is the reality of elite sport. You're either in or you're out.' And yeah, I burnt out pretty quick."

Her experiences are a powerful reminder of the additional cognitive and emotional labour placed on neurodivergent athletes. While others focus on marginal gains, neurodivergent athletes often carry the weight of unacknowledged barriers:

"You're already having to carry this whole system on your back... and then you're also expected to advocate for yourself."

Despite these challenges, Sarah also highlighted the many strengths her autism brings to her athletic and professional life. Her intense focus, love of routine, and determination were critical to her success:

"I do love a schedule. I'll have a training plan for the week, and even if I don’t feel like it, I’ll stick to it. It would unsettle me more not to do the session than to push through."

This consistency proved especially valuable during the isolation of lockdown:

"I had a whiteboard with a schedule, and I stuck to it."

Her ability to hyperfocus and train repetitively allowed her to progress despite not feeling like the most naturally gifted athlete:

"I'm definitely not as naturally talented as a lot of the other girls from the GB team... but one of the advantages of my autism is the ability to train and train and train until I get it right."

After a break from elite sport, Sarah returned—this time equipped with a better understanding of what she needed to succeed. She continues to compete in para ice hockey and has carried those insights into her professional life:

"By the time I started work, I had a blueprint for how to get the most out of myself. So I could go to my boss and say: here are the five things we can do to help me thrive."

Sarah's journey is a lesson in the power of lived experience. She now uses her platform to raise awareness—sharing her story on Instagram and creating informal communities like a WhatsApp group for neurodivergent athletes in wheelchair basketball:

"If I'd had that going up through the ranks, it might have made life a little easier."

Her honesty is helping others feel less alone, and her advocacy is building a legacy of inclusion one conversation at a time:

"It's making little changes, and hoping someone else picks up the mantle."

We are grateful to Sarah for sharing her story, and for continuing to be a voice for those who haven’t yet found their own. Her story is not just about overcoming challenges—it's about reshaping the environment so that others don't face the same ones.

Key Takeaways:

• Uncertainty can be more distressing than diagnosis. Neurodivergent individuals often need clarity and structure to feel safe and supported.

• Visible disability receives more recognition than invisible needs. This imbalance can lead to overlooked accommodations and misunderstandings.

• The onus is often on neurodivergent athletes to advocate for themselves, even when support systems should be proactive.

• Structure and routine are vital tools for managing both physical and cognitive demands.

• Burnout is a real risk when expectations don’t account for neurodivergent processing, energy levels, or sensory needs.

• Peer connection matters. Informal community spaces can make a big difference in reducing isolation and sharing support strategies.

• Understanding your needs is empowering. Self-awareness allows athletes and employees to advocate clearly and improve performance.

• Autistic strengths like discipline, pattern-thinking, and repetition can be a competitive advantage—if recognised and supported.