Wittgenstein was speaking about the boundaries of thought itself, but his words carry a particular weight for anyone who has suffered invisibly. When we lack the words for an experience, we struggle to grasp it ourselves, let alone explain it to others. And still, the pain is no less real for being unnamed.
While studying for the Global Cultures MA, my supervisor introduced me to the work of scholar Miranda Fricker, whose 2007 book Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing gave language to a phenomenon I had been witnessing for years in my work as a coach to neurodivergent people but had never had the framework to articulate. Fricker identifies two forms of epistemic injustice. The first, "testimonial injustice," concerns moments when prejudice leads a listener to unfairly doubt or dismiss what someone says. The second, "hermeneutical injustice," concerns a different kind of harm: when the shared concepts available in a society contain a blind spot, leaving certain people unable to make sense of what is happening to them (Fricker, 2007). Fricker argues that this gap emerges when marginalised groups are excluded from the processes that generate social meaning, leaving their experiences unnamed and unrecognised.
One example she cites is that of sexual harassment: women endured unwanted advances, intimidation, and coercion in the workplace for decades, but before the term was coined in the 1970s (Farley, 1978), there was no shared language to name the pattern. The suffering was real, but it remained illegible. In simpler terms, hermeneutical injustice is the injustice of not being able to understand or communicate your own suffering because the words for it do not yet exist. The person suffers twice: once from the experience itself, and again from having that experience rendered invisible.
My work with neurodivergent individuals brings me into contact with a population whose suffering often falls into an unspoken hermeneutical gap. Many grow up feeling out of step with those around them, unable to understand why. Neurodivergent individuals – those whose cognitive or neurological functioning diverges from societal norms, including people with autism, ADHD, high sensitivity, and intellectual giftedness – frequently experience this form of harm. Their experiences fit Fricker's description of invisible harm: suffering that leaves no visible marks but erodes something essential on the inside. While clinical and academic literature has developed concepts like "sensory processing differences" (Patil et al., 2023) and "executive dysfunction" (Hill, 2004), these terms often remain confined to specialist settings. They are not widely known among families, classrooms, workplaces, and communities where real lives happen. Without the right understanding, an autistic person's distress in noisy environments is dismissed as misbehaviour (Pavlopoulou et al., 2025). Someone who cannot sit still or follow multi-step instructions is labelled lazy or defiant, punished instead of supported for legitimate struggles.
Consider a child whose cognitive or emotional wiring differs significantly from that of their parents. The parents may be well-meaning but simply unable to comprehend why their child reacts so strongly to stimuli that seem unremarkable, why they ask so many questions, and why they cannot just "be normal." The child receives constant signals that their way of being is wrong. Such experiences do not leave visible marks. But they erode something essential: the capacity for self-trust, the sense that one's inner world is real and valid.