The evolution of Autistic representation in the media by Noor Abdul*
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Image: Lisa Tomasetti/Netflix
Ever since I was old enough to watch movies and TV series on my own, I was always drawn to neurodivergent characters. I loved the oddballs, the misfits, and the rebels. I still do.
Over and over again though, something didn’t sit right with me in how Autistic characters were portrayed. Sheldon from Big Bang Theory was abrasive, thoughtless and self-centered. Sam from Atypical trespassed into his therapist’s home. Their behaviours made absolutely no sense to me. First, I thought it was because they were men.
Then something else eventually dawned on me. They were all white. Every. Single. One. And none of them were played by #ActuallyAutistic actors.
My lived experience, as a Muslim Autistic woman of colour, has been an unforgiving one. There was no leeway for me to make mistakes, whether it be in my home, or outside. I fawned^ to stay alive, to remain socially acceptable, even if it hurt me. Mine was an entirely different experience to that of a white Autistic young woman, like the sprightly Quinni from Heartbreak High.
Quinni is played by a white #ActuallyAutistic actress, Chloé Hayden. My favourite scenes always circled back to her. So much of her mannerisms and routines reflected my own. I have never seen restaurant-induced sensory overload depicted so well. Or the anxiety that comes with having her plans thrown out of whack. I cringed when her well-meaning girlfriend decides to override Quinni’s carefully laid plans. Best of all, I love how well Quinni advocates for herself. I was an undiagnosed Autistic teen in an unsafe home, with undiagnosed parents carrying the weight of intergenerational trauma. I did not have the ability to connect with what I needed, let alone express it. Neither did my parents.
Watching Quinni gives me the words and confidence I wish I had when I was her age. I loved seeing how completely understood she was by her best friend Darren and her family. Recognising what I need, and learning how to express that, is an ongoing process for me, even as an adult and the mother of an Autistic daughter, and a non-Autistic one. I hope my daughters will have an easier time because I welcome their voices.
Attorney Woo from Extraordinary Attorney Woo is a very different portrayal of being an Autistic woman. Some Korean articles describe both positive and negative aspects of depicting an Autistic savant like Attorney Woo – something that is quite rare. Just like the article described, what I found most unbelievable was the support of her colleagues, and her employer not rejecting her immediately for disclosing ‘Autism Spectrum Disorder’ on her resume.
I was born overseas and moved to Australia when I was young. It is vastly differently, being Autistic in Asia, than it is in countries like America, Australia or Britain. Even though I was not born in Korea, the country of my birth and early childhood shares very similar values of conformity, and bending to the greater collective good. There are existing support networks for disabilities, but there is so much room for improvement. Part of it is unpacking the shame in being disabled. We are enough as we are.
I am Autistic. I have been, and will always be, different. It is difficult to be born a change-maker, and to be told to fit into tidy boxes, and to not make waves. I am a wave. I will always be a wave.
I hope there comes a time where other Autistic teens of colour are able to see others like us represented in Australian media, in all our glorious imperfection. I hope to see more TV shows and movies showing supportive family members, teachers, colleagues, and more systemic change embracing and uplifting all of us.
One day soon, I hope to see an Autistic teen of colour show how her family, culture and faith give her both strength and guidance, the way it has for me. I didn’t get that as a child, but I can give it to myself as an adult, and pass this legacy of safety to my daughters.
*Name changed for privacy.