The Mirror of Identity: Exploring Neurodivergence and Family Ties

Reflecting on my family’s journey, I often ponder: what truly shapes identity? For many of us, this question remains unanswered—fluid, layered, and deeply tied to the connections we share with those around us. Within my family, I’ve observed how neurodivergence intertwines with identity, creating patterns that ripple across generations in fascinating ways.

The work of researcher Geoff Bird on the Mirror Neuron System (MNS) and others has profoundly broadened my understanding of these connections. Bird’s hypothesis—that the MNS is shaped through associative learning rather than innate mechanisms—offers a new perspective on how we learn and mirror each other within family bonds. His rejection of the Broken Mirror Theory, which ties social difficulties in autism to deficits in the MNS, encourages a broader view of neurodivergence as a process of adaptation and individual expression (Bird et al., 2014).

Additionally, research by Rizzolatti and Craighero (2004), pioneers in the discovery of the MNS, emphasises the system’s role in understanding actions and intentions through observation. Their work aligns with Bird’s hypothesis, highlighting how mirroring behaviours emerge through learned associations, even in the absence of direct imitation.

These ideas resonate deeply as I reflect on the journeys of my family members—Jaime, Jay, Bob, and my son, Oscar—each offering unique insights into this interconnected web of identity and neurodivergence.

Jaime: A Mathematical Expression of Self

Jaime’s journey reflects self-discovery through deliberate change. Choosing their name feels like an act of conscious expression—balancing complexity and clarity, much like a mathematical equation.

JA = Me, Mum & Dad (Jane & Jarrad) We are all the same

I = Myself as an individual

ME = As in my family

When viewed through my lens this decision mirrors the unseen threads of neurodivergence in families, it’s as though Jaime’s search for authenticity reflects a broader familial pattern. Their name is not just a label but a bridge between personal identity and shared connections, embodying the dynamic interplay of individual and collective experience.

Bob and Robert: Mirroring Through Rejection and Reinvention

In a more complex and paradoxical example, we find Bob—a close friend whose relationship with his father was profoundly troubled. This tension introduces a layered view of mirroring: one where rejection and resemblance can exist side by side. Publicly, Bob has distanced himself from all memories of his father, rejecting not only the man but the upbringing he and his siblings endured. Yet, in what seems to be a subconscious echo, elements of his identity still appear to reflect his father’s imprint.

The most striking example lies in his chosen name—a name that, whether by coincidence or subconscious design, forms an anagram of his father’s: Robert. While it may not have been a deliberate act, it suggests that family ties can leave impressions deeper than memory—shaping us even in our attempts to break away.

This hypothesis becomes more compelling when viewed in light of Robert’s own past. Born in the 1930s into a strict Irish Catholic family, he was the eldest of seven—a role heavy with inherited duty. Though I won’t unravel the full complexity of that family history here (that’s a story for another time), one pivotal chapter stands out. In his early twenties, shortly after becoming a father, Robert fled to Western Australia—abducting his daughter in the process. With that act, he severed not only relational ties but also the identity tethered to his former self, adopting the name Robert as part of a self-crafted reinvention.

For his daughter, it marked the beginning of a traumatic severance—from her mother, her family, and the foundational layers of her identity. What Robert left behind wasn’t just a name—it was a legacy, fragmented and redefined through escape.

And yet, in a strange twist, Bob’s own journey bears echoes of that same act—though his path diverges in both meaning and intent. Where Robert ran from truth, Bob moves toward it. Where Robert concealed, Bob reveals. His transformation seems less like an escape and more like an emergence: not a rejection of the past, but a conscious reconstruction of self amid its ruins.

If mirroring exists here, it isn’t a clean reflection—it’s refracted, like an image seen through rippling water. One man fled from his name; the other reshaped his. Is Bob refusing the legacy he was handed, asserting control where none was given? Or is there an unconscious tether between them, each wrestling with identity in their own time, shaped by the same unresolved inheritance but arriving at different truths?

It raises a larger question: do we unknowingly echo those who came before us, or do we react so strongly against them that we forge something entirely new? And in doing so, are we breaking the cycle—or simply bending it into another shape?

This interplay becomes even more pronounced in Bob’s embracing of a trans identity—a conscious act of self-definition that runs counter to the rigid values of his father. Bob’s path is one of opposition and reinvention, showing that mirroring isn’t always replication. Sometimes, it’s a poetic inversion—where identity forms not in likeness, but in deliberate contrast.

The Mirror Neuron System (MNS) may offer one lens for understanding this intricate dance. Through associative learning, the MNS allows us to internalise the behaviours of those around us—not necessarily to imitate them, but to transform them into something that fits our own narrative. In Bob’s case, that transformation is not only personal—it’s generational. His identity is shaped through both the rejection of inherited patterns and the quiet, often unconscious, ways they continue to surface.

It’s a reminder that identity is not formed in isolation. It emerges through tension, reflection, resistance—and, sometimes, a deep remembering of what one is determined not to become.

Jay and Oscar: Mirroring Across Generations

Jay’s story highlights the role of mirroring in identity formation. Observing Jay, I noticed how he instinctively reflects the traits and behaviours of his father and brother. When viewed through my own neurodivergent lens it appears not as imitation or mirroring in the traditional sense but an unconscious process of learning and association that feels tied to the MNS. Studies by Dapretto et al. (2006) demonstrate that children with neurodivergent traits can show unique activation patterns in the MNS, influencing how they internalise the actions and emotional states of those around them.

During Jay’s stay with us over Christmas, I observed striking similarities between him and my son, Oscar. Their shared traits—mannerisms, preferences, even their presence—suggest a deeply rooted genetic potential for neurodivergence. Witnessing these parallels has been fascinating, offering a glimpse into how patterns ripple across generations and linked bloodlines.

With Jay’s father staying with us recently, I also see similar mirroring in Oscar. Despite their age difference, Oscar subconsciously picks up on his uncle’s mannerisms, dress, eating habits, and preferences. These subtle behaviours demonstrate how neurodivergent traits and mirroring behaviours echo across familial relationships. Such unconscious mirroring aligns with findings that the MNS activates not only during direct observation but also in response to perceived social and emotional cues (Gallese et al., 2004).

Interconnectedness Through the Mirror Neuron System and Music

Music offers another lens to explore the MNS’s role in shaping identity and behaviour. Research suggests that the MNS is activated during rhythmic and auditory experiences, leading to involuntary physical responses like stimming—uncontrollable movements in response to the energy of music (Koelsch et al., 2006). For neurodivergent individuals, stimming often reflects an internal resonance with external stimuli, like the vibrations and emotional intensity embedded in music.

Interestingly, this can extend to mirroring behaviours influenced by the energy an artist brings to their recording. The MNS may facilitate a subconscious connection between the listener and the artist, translating the artist’s emotional and physical expression into a listener’s embodied experience. For example, the drive to move, sway, or tap in rhythm with music could be seen as a form of mirroring, linking the artist’s creative process to the audience’s physical and emotional response.

In both my own family and that of Jaime, Bob, and Jay, music has always been more than background noise—it’s been a frequency threaded through our lives, a quiet force shaping us from the inside out. When I reflect on how music moves us—how it stirs involuntary reactions, goosebumps, tears, a sudden stillness—it feels as though it reaches beyond this world. As if it's tapping into something ancient, or perhaps into a parallel universe where souls recognise one another through sound.

I often notice this in the way my son and I stim while listening to a favourite song—our bodies responding in sync, not to each other, but to the energy within the music itself. It reminds me that mirroring isn’t limited to social cues. It can also be a deeply instinctive response to art, to sound, to the unseen emotional residue left behind by the artist.

Oscar, like his uncle before him, has found a deep love for the electric guitar. The instrument he chooses—and the music that fuels his passion—mirror his uncle’s early steps, right down to the heavy, relentless pulse of Metallica. There’s something quietly beautiful in that repetition. To me, it feels like a generational resonance—an unspoken chord struck across time, binding us not just by blood, but by rhythm, instinct, and shared inner landscapes.

A New Understanding of the Unseen Forces

As I reflect on these journeys, I am struck by the unseen forces that bind us. Music, art, and the rhythms of daily life create associations that shape who we are. These elements, while abstract, contribute to the tapestry of identity through sensory and emotional learning. The MNS plays a central role here, transforming external cues into internal experiences, whether through familial mirroring or the embodied responses evoked by music.

For my family, this interconnectedness is lived, not theoretical. It’s evident in how we mirror and learn from one another, navigate neurodivergence, and find meaning in shared experiences. Together, these stories remind me that identity is not static—it’s a continuous dance between the visible and invisible forces that shape our lives.

Hypothesis on Neurodivergent Belief Formation and Mirroring

If mirroring is at play here, it isn’t a straightforward reflection—it’s something more abstract, something that isn’t typically viewed in this way. It makes me wonder if belief formation in neurodivergent individuals follows a similar pattern—where instead of simply replicating what we see, we absorb, distort, and reconstruct it in ways that aren’t always obvious or linear.

For some, mirroring is direct—an unconscious shaping of self based on external influences. But for others, particularly those who are neurodivergent, it works differently. Instead of mimicking, we analyse. We break things down to their raw components, deconstructing experiences, behaviours, and even identities to understand how they work before deciding whether to embrace or reject them. It’s less like reflection and more like refraction—light bending through a prism, scattering into colours that weren’t immediately visible before.

This makes me think of not just Bob, but also Jaime and Jay—each of them engaged in their own form of identity deconstruction and reconstruction. Bob chose his name with precise intent, dismantling the identity he was given and rebuilding it into something that made sense to him. Jaime, too, reshaped their identity, but in a way that felt almost like an equation—each change an intentional piece of a greater formula, solving for a self that fit. Then there’s Jay, who has redefined his identity in a way that seems, at least on the surface, to be a direct rejection of his past self. Yet, I wonder if it’s actually the same process at work—an internal interrogation of what was handed down, before deciding what to keep and what to discard.

Could it be that all three of them, in their own ways, are engaged in a deeper form of pattern recognition? Rather than simply mirroring those who came before them, they are processing, reconfiguring, and ultimately reshaping their inherited narratives into something that feels more authentic. It’s not just about rejecting what doesn’t fit—it’s an active, deliberate transformation.

This would suggest that neurodivergent belief formation isn’t just about absorbing external influences, but about filtering, repurposing, and reconstructing them. We don’t just take what we see and accept it—we interrogate it. We run it through layers of logic, intuition, and emotion until it becomes something else entirely.

So maybe what looks like a rejection of a reflection is actually a different kind of mirroring—one that operates beneath the surface, hidden in the ways we reinterpret and redefine the choices of those who came before us. Perhaps it isn’t just a question of whether we follow in their footsteps or break away entirely. Maybe, instead, we are forever in conversation with the past, reshaping it as we go.

References

• Bird, G., Leighton, J., Press, C., & Heyes, C. (2014). The Role of Associative Learning in Mirror Neuron System Development. Social Neuroscience, 9(3-4), 335-345.

• Dapretto, M., Davies, M. S., Pfeifer, J. H., Scott, A. A., Sigman, M., Bookheimer, S. Y., & Iacoboni, M. (2006). Understanding Emotions in Others: Mirror Neuron Dysfunction in Children with Autism Spectrum Disorders. Nature Neuroscience, 9(1), 28-30.

• Gallese, V., Keysers, C., & Rizzolatti, G. (2004). A Unifying View of the Basis of Social Cognition. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 8(9), 396-403.

• Koelsch, S., Fritz, T., von Cramon, D. Y., Müller, K., & Friederici, A. D. (2006). Investigating Emotion with Music: An fMRI Study. Human Brain Mapping, 27(3), 239-250.

• Rizzolatti, G., & Craighero, L. (2004). The Mirror-Neuron System. Annual Review of Neuroscience, 27(1), 169-192.