Hey friend — I’m Courtney Kinslow, your favorite neurospicy wife and mama!
I was diagnosed with ADHD at 43, and honestly? It explained so much.
As a kid, I thought I just had reading comprehension issues. I could read an entire chapter and still struggle to explain what it was about. Then college came, and suddenly I was staring at 25-page case studies feeling completely lost. Back in the 80s and 90s, nobody was talking about ADHD—especially not in the Black community. Mental health simply wasn’t something we discussed.
But times started to change. Between the courage of athletes like Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka, and the hard national conversations that followed the death of George Floyd, a long-overdue message finally broke through: it’s okay not to be okay. That was the moment I began my own mental-health journey—and everything started to shift.
With my diagnosis came clarity, but also grief. I began to recognize how many neurodivergent adults—especially parents—are navigating life with no roadmap. We’re managing ADHD, anxiety, executive-function challenges, burnout, and emotional overload… all while trying to show up strong for our families. I realized I didn’t just need tools to advocate for my child—I needed tools to advocate for myself, too.
As a mom, I’ve always been hyper-focused on my kids’ development. If something didn’t sit right, I asked questions. I refused to be the parent who ignored red flags out of fear or pride.
My biggest challenge came while advocating for my son. It took years—two evaluations, countless meetings, and one very rough kindergarten year—before we received a formal autism diagnosis. I’ll never forget how misunderstood he was that first year. What others labeled as “behavioral issues” were really stimming, sensory overload, and unmet needs.
By first grade, we finally had a diagnosis and began the process for a 504 plan. But even then, it took months—and once it was in place, I learned the hard way that not all 504s are created equal. His plan looked great on paper, but it didn’t actually protect him in the classroom. It was vague, filled with “suggestions” instead of real, enforceable supports.
That’s when Advocate Ally was born.
I wanted to create something that helped parents like me truly understand what’s inside those IEPs and 504s—what’s missing, what’s unclear, and what needs to change. When I ran my son’s plan through the first version of my analyzer, I saw just how broken—and intimidating—the system could be. I knew I had to do something.
Today, Advocate Ally exists to support both sides of the advocacy journey. I help parents confidently advocate for their children and support neurodivergent adults with tools that reduce overwhelm, organize thoughts, clarify communication, and make it easier to show up prepared—in school meetings, workplaces, and everyday life.
My mission is simple: to help you feel unapologetically equipped—not just to fight for your child’s right to learn, grow, and thrive, but to honor your own needs and voice along the way.
You don’t have to do this alone.
You just need the right tools, the right community, and someone who truly gets it.
Welcome to the movement.
Let’s change the system—together.