Proudly Dyslexic: Zoe-Jane Littlewood on Netball, Physiotherapy and Being Unapologetically Herself
Introduction
Zoe-Jane Littlewood is a former netball player and sports physiotherapist—and proudly dyslexic. In this video interview, Zoe-Jane shares her story with humour, clarity and boldness. She doesn't shy away from the hard truths about being neurodivergent Black woman navigating not just ableism, but a whole web of intersectional barriers.
From processing delays on the netball court to misunderstandings in sports physiotherapy, Zoe-Jane’s experiences highlight just how crucial communication, flexibility and inclusive leadership are to unlocking the potential of neurodivergent individuals.
Her message? Be open-minded. Get to know your athletes. And don’t underestimate the immense value neurodivergent players and professionals bring to sport. As Zoe-Jane puts it, “It’s sad when people don’t try to understand—or even ask. Just talk to me. Include me.”
Dyslexia Beyond Reading and Writing
Many still think dyslexia just means difficulty reading or spelling. But Zoe-Jane sets the record straight.
“Dyslexia is all about how we process information—especially language. I used to come off the netball court at half-time and my coach would rattle off 10 instructions. I’d get back on and forget them all.”
This processing delay impacted her confidence—and her reputation.
“I’d be called slow or told I wasn’t on the ball. But it wasn’t effort. I just couldn’t process it fast enough.”
Those comments weren’t just frustrating. They were damaging.
“I loved netball. What I didn’t love was constantly being told I let the team down. No one explained it. No one asked.”
And she points out that this lack of understanding didn’t stop at school or club sport—it followed her into her professional life as a sports physiotherapist.
Working in Sport While Dyslexic—and Female
As a dyslexic woman in a male-dominated field, Zoe-Jane had to advocate for herself constantly.
“I’d say the wrong word sometimes when talking to coaches. Then I’d see them look at me like, do you even know what you’re talking about? I did. I just couldn’t always express it the same way.”
Being underestimated or written off hurt—but being misunderstood hurt more.
“People would say I was cold or rude. But that’s just how I come across on text! I always voice note now.”
In those moments, Zoe-Jane wanted people to talk to her, not about her.
“There’s a phrase I love: ‘Nothing about us, without us.’ If you’ve got questions, ask. Don’t assume.”
What Coaches (and Everyone Else) Can Do Better
So what can coaches do to support dyslexic and neurodivergent athletes?
“Take the time to get to know your players. Ask them how they learn. Do they need visuals? Repetition? One word cues?”
She suggests a learning preferences form at the start of each season—normalising the idea that different brains learn differently.
“I would’ve loved if my coach pulled me aside and said, ‘You’ve got your own little quirks. Want to talk?’”
Instead, she got silence. Or worse, ridicule.
“There’s ways to work with us that benefit everyone. Sometimes it’s just giving us the info in advance. Or showing us visually. In netball we never used whiteboards like they do in football—but they would’ve helped me so much.”
And it’s not just about the elite teams.
“In school, in youth sport—we need role models, understanding, and conversations. I always felt alone. That shouldn’t happen.”
The Hidden Toll of Misunderstanding
Zoe-Jane has seen the consequences of neurodivergence being misunderstood—or ignored.
“I remember this player—so talented, but slow to process. The coach kept making him do punish laps. He thought he was stupid.”
As a physiotherapist, she tried to support him. She knew he wasn’t slow—just unsupported.
“I said to the coach, I think he might be dyslexic. He laughed. Laughed.”
It’s this disregard that stays with her.
“You’re literally handed a resource on a plate—and you reject it? That’s not coaching. That’s ego.”
Creative, Unpredictable, and Always One Step Ahead
Despite the challenges, Zoe-Jane’s dyslexia also gave her an edge on court.
“I was so unpredictable! My teammates knew how I worked, but the opposition never did.”
And she could visualise the whole court at once—a big advantage in centre or wing positions.
“Problem-solving was my strength. I could see plays unfold before they happened.”
Even her communication became a superpower.
“I’d mix up words, but my team got me. Sometimes it confused the other side too, which worked in our favour!”
In other words: she didn’t just compensate—she brought something different. And valuable.
Working With, Not Around, Neurodivergence
Zoe-Jane believes the sports sector is missing a huge opportunity by failing to include and support neurodivergent talent.
“If you give dyslexic people the tools, they can be out of this world.”
She describes athletes “skipping sentences” or getting lost in training drills—only to be labelled as lazy or careless.
“It’s not laziness. It’s processing. And coaches need to know the difference.”
She’s started sharing her insights online (@The_Dyslexic_Movement), using humour and honesty to educate others.
“Communication is a gift. And we all do it differently—through movement, speech, signs. We’ve got to stay curious about how people express themselves.”
The Power of Inclusion: A Message for Leaders in Sport
Zoe-Jane finished our conversation with a direct message for coaches and staff:
“You’re in a powerful position. The way you speak, act—it all holds weight. So be open-minded.”
And, crucially:
“If you take the time to support neurodivergent athletes, the whole team benefits. Those changes you make? They won’t just help us. They’ll help everyone.”
Final Thoughts
Zoe-Jane’s story is a reminder that neurodivergence in sport is not a weakness to work around, but a strength to work with. Her experiences show both the damage of misunderstanding and the transformative power of simple, inclusive practices.
From asking how athletes learn best, to recognising that different communication styles aren’t flaws but adaptations, the message is clear: when you make space for neurodivergent athletes, you don’t just support individuals—you strengthen whole teams and communities.
Zoe-Jane embodies confidence, creativity, and resilience. Her call to sport is simple but urgent: be curious, be flexible, and most of all—see the person, not the stereotype.
Follow @the_dyslexic_movement on Instagram or find Zoe-Jane Littlewood on LinkedIn.
Key Takeaways for Neurodivergent Individuals
Know your strengths
➝ Creativity, problem-solving, and passion are powerful assets in sport.
Advocate for your needs
➝ Whether it’s visual aids, extra time, or a quick voice note, ask for what helps you thrive.
You are not alone
➝ There is nothing wrong with your brain; others share your experiences and challenges.
Key Takeaways for Peers, Supporters, and Parents
Don’t mistake difference for disrespect
➝ Unusual communication or behaviour isn’t rudeness, it’s just difference.
Try multiple forms of communication
➝ Ask what works best: text, visuals, voice, or in-person.
Learn, don’t assume
➝ Supporting your teammate means understanding their needs, not dismissing them.
Key Takeaways for Coaches, Leaders, and Organisations
Be proactive
➝ Ask athletes how they learn best and how they prefer to receive feedback.
Foster belonging
➝ Create a culture where neurodivergent players feel seen, heard, and valued.
Build around difference
➝ Inclusion makes your team stronger, not weaker.
Originally a recorded interview, this blog post was written by Caragh McMurtry. Subheadings were added by the Neurodiverse Sport team to support readability.
