Pop Culture Likes Autism As A Concept — But Fails To Do It Justice

I wish I could say autism representation has come a long way since the days of Rain Man. But in many ways, it really hasn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, pop culture likes autism as a concept — the social gaffes, the eccentricities, the potential for inspiration porn. Unfortunately, there’s little appetite to represent autistic people as regular members of society. We are often a demographic that the media gets wrong. 

At worst, autistic people become caricatures — think Music, Sia’s disastrous directorial debut. This film sparked backlash from the autistic community over claims of its offensive portrayal, lack of autistic voices, and display of dangerous practices such as prone restraint. Sia then doubled down on bad takes, insulting the very community she had sought to bolster support for in the film.

By stark contrast, short film Loop and documentary The Reason I Jump demonstrate non-speaking autistic perspectives with tenderness, sensitivity, and presumed competence — the way it should be done.

Other disappointing examples include Atypical and The Good Doctor, which feed into tired stereotypes of autistic people as rude, robotic geniuses. While Atypical has its moments — including a pretty accurate depiction of a meltdown — it feels like a show written by and for neurotypical people (not to mention that one of its main actors was reported to have regularly used racist and ableist insults on Twitter). Meanwhile, The Good Doctor is pure inspiration porn and doesn't make autistic audiences feel seen. These shows focus on autism as an obstacle for neurotypical characters and neurotypical life, or a source of comic relief.

It's not all bad though, as there have been some improvements in recent years.

As We See It centres on the experiences of three autistic housemates played by Sue Ann Pien, Rick Glassman and Albert Rutecki — all autistic actors. Writers and consultants on the show are also autistic, allowing for a more accurate portrayal of sensory issues, social and employment challenges, and internalised ableism that's incredibly relatable. It’s also great to see an autistic woman of colour on screen (Pien), especially one who is seeking relationships and sexual expression, given that autistic people are often infantilised and desexualised.

Another positive example is Everything’s Gonna Be Okay, which – like As We See It – champions autistic voices as experts in their own lives. The autistic characters have different traits, different support needs, and different sexualities. There’s even an adult diagnosis, which is becoming increasingly common. 

When TV shows feature multiple autistic characters, there's greater opportunity for demonstrating the diversity in how autism can present. It's quite common for us to have fellow autistic people in our networks such as parents, siblings, and friends. However, many shows, like The Good Doctor, take a general approach of “the only autistic person in the village”, putting pressure on one character to reflect the autistic experience (as if there’s only one!).

In the animated world, characters like Norma Khan from Dead End: Paranormal Park and Tina Belcher from Bob’s Burgers bring hope to seeing autistic-coded characters as part of the gang. Both characters are dorky and delightful, and Norma’s social anxiety is excellently portrayed, likely due to the show having both an autistic creator and an autistic consultant. That said, Tina is canonically not autistic (according to her father, Bob), and it seems like a missed opportunity that Norma’s autism isn’t explicitly stated, particularly as Dead End: Paranormal Park is perhaps the first children’s show I’ve seen with an openly trans character. In a similar example, Entrapta from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power benefits from having strong autistic input, but her autism isn’t confirmed within the show’s universe.

So, what needs to change?

Even across better representation, it’s an issue that autistic characters must often be inferred (which can lead to stereotyping), or teased out of a showrunner, even if it’s never acknowledged canonically. This can feel as though creators are evading the responsibility of using the word “autism”, as this would mean having to be accountable for good representation. A notorious example of this is Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory. He’s a walking autism stereotype, but showrunners insist that he isn’t autistic. Even Sheldon himself says, “I’m not crazy – my mother had me tested”. This essentially gives creators plausible deniability, and allows them to sidestep the responsibility of getting it right.

Furthermore, it often seems like autism is only mentioned explicitly when the show is about autism. Why can’t characters be canonically autistic without it being the main point of the show? Why can’t they simply exist in the world, just out there vibing? 

By relying on autistic coding, it can feel as though I’m stereotyping based on a few personality traits, when the scope of autism is pervasive and comprises multi-faceted functional impacts. Even with potentially good representation like Tina Belcher, I wonder if I’m just seeing what I want to see. Am I extrapolating simply based on Tina being awkward — and essentially becoming my own pet peeve, which is people reducing autism to just a bit of awkwardness?

As a community, we are still shaking the stereotype of highly intelligent, accomplished white men as autism poster boys. I’m happy to see, both in As We See It and film Please Stand By, autistic characters working in everyday food service roles. Employment is a huge challenge as an autistic person, and becoming doctors, scientists, or tech wizards is only a viable (and desirable) pathway for the privileged few.

The Hollywood face of autism is also an issue. It’s bewildering to consistently see autism in sanitised, ‘palatable’ packages — and significantly, the overwhelming whiteness of disability narratives and conversations in general. Watching baby-faced Freddie Highmore play an autistic man in The Good Doctor, it’s hard to believe that his character’s behaviours would elicit the same level of care if they came from a more oppressed body. Another example is Dakota Fanning in Please Stand By, who can put on the guise of autistic candour and then take it off, resuming her usual poise once the job is done. As an autistic woman who’s a bit of a gremlin (albeit white and middle class), it’s frustrating to see these conventionally attractive, charismatic celebrities pretending to be autistic by stilting their speech and bumbling over a few social interactions. 

I want to see actors who genuinely know the struggle, from a variety of backgrounds, especially given the rates of unemployment and underemployment in the autistic community. People are making money off autistic characters and narratives, but it’s rarely us.

We belong in writers’ rooms, studios, and on set. We belong in front of the camera and behind the scenes. 

And our stories belong to us.