Giggs Vs Gregg: From Struggle to Support
- Eli Keery
- Jul 17
- 2 min read

Giggs Vs Gregg: From Struggle to Support
Two high-profile British figures, rapper Giggs and former BBC presenter Gregg Wallace, have recently spoken about their autism diagnoses. But the contrast in how they’ve framed it couldn’t be more different and important. Giggs reflects on how a lack of understanding in childhood shaped his path and now advocates for better support for neurodivergent children. Wallace, by contrast, spoke about his autism while responding to allegations of workplace misconduct, an approach many have criticised as a deflection.
Giggs: Diagnosis and Dismissal
When British rapper Giggs recently opened up about his experiences with undiagnosed autism, a bold and vulnerable move, he framed it not for sympathy but instead as a warning. Misunderstood for most of his school years, Giggs was repeatedly kicked out of class, labelled a “troublemaker,” and pushed out of systems that had no space or language for his needs. “I always used to answer back… until I just thought, well, I’m bad,” he told the BBC.
Now, as a parent fighting for EHCPs (Education, Health and Care Plans) for his autistic children, Giggs is dealing with the same broken system, just from the other side of the table. His son Israel has already been denied twice. His daughter Isla, has also been refused support. The process, he says, has dragged on for years, with endless private assessments and mounting frustration. “We’ve been dragging them up and down the country… I feel bad for them.”
It’s a personal story, but one rooted in systemic failure. While Giggs didn’t explicitly reference race, his experience reflects well-documented disparities. Research from the National Autistic Society shows that autistic children from Black, Asian and other racially minoritised backgrounds are:
More likely to be misunderstood or mislabelled as disruptive
Less likely to receive early diagnosis, due to cultural bias, stigma or language barriers
Often excluded from dominant narratives around autism, which still centre on white, middle-class boys
Giggs’ case is a vivid example of how unmet needs become discipline issues, and how silence, at both the personal and institutional level, turns into exclusion.
Wallace: A Diagnosis as Defence
Gregg Wallace, meanwhile, referenced his autism diagnosis after a BBC investigation upheld 45 allegations of inappropriate behaviour, including sexualised comments and unwanted physical contact. He claimed his employer failed to properly explore his diagnosis or protect him from a “dangerous environment.”
This framing has drawn sharp criticism. “Autism is not a free pass for bad behaviour,” said a spokesman from Neurodiversity in Business, warning that such defences can reinforce stigma rather than challenge it. The word “defence” is key here: it positions autism not as something to support, but something to blame.
What’s the takeaway?
To be clear, neurodivergent individuals may face challenges with social cues, boundaries, or feedback, but that context should drive proactive support, not reactive excuses. The takeaway isn’t to question anyone’s diagnosis. Giggs used his to advocate for change; Wallace used his to deflect blame.
The real question is: Are we creating systems that prevent harm by providing the help people truly need?
For neurodiversity, a group with some of those most likely to be overlooked, misunderstood, or misrepresented, that answer cannot come soon enough.