Netflix‘s latest original series, Atypical, tells the story of an autistic 18-year-old named Sam (Keir Gilchrist) and his relationship with his family as he begins dating and discovering his own independence. The series, along with ABC‘s upcoming The Good Doctor, are two of the first mainstream television shows to name autism and feature it prominently. They’re also part of the move forward to make autistic characters more visible on screen and beyond, an area in which Hollywood has historically struggled.

Over the years, there have been many characters across comedy and drama series and films either explicitly or implicitly autistic (think Jim Parsons‘ Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory or Dustin Hoffman‘s Raymond Babbitt in Rain Man). Award-winning performances aside, oftentimes these portrayals can feel like a shot in the dark at what writers imagine someone on the autism spectrum might behave. The unfortunate fact is that the majority of these productions never consult with an autistic person when developing characters. While people on the outside of the autism community might not be attuned to the perpetuation of false stereotypes or representations, autistic individuals, experts, and members of this community have taken notice as to what’s accurate and what’s offensive when it comes to the way autism is represented on screen.

“I am happy to see that the entertainment industry is doing a better job about having neurodiverse characters,” Michelle Dean, a consultant on Atypical, told Decider. Dean received her Ph.D. in Special Education from UCLA, worked at the UCLA Center for Autism Research and Treatment, and currently serves as an Assistant Professor of Special Education at CSU Channel Islands. While Dean’s role primarily dealt with offering a clinical perspective on autism to the team behind Atypical, she stressed the importance of representation in our conversation:

“What I’ve seen is people in society may recognize one character and generalize that character’s unique set of traits and apply it to everyone on the spectrum that they meet. I think that level of stereotyping is dangerous, so I think that what’s important is that we in the entertainment industry or as a society remember that the heterogeneity of the diagnosis, and be mindful to view one set of traits or characteristics as one set of traits or characteristics, rather than generalizing out to every single person we meet who’s on the spectrum.”

Neurodiversity – the concept that sees the range of differences in brain function and behavioral traits amongst individuals as a result of normal variations in the human genome – has steadily made its way into the zeitgeist, and Dean’s acknowledgment of how crucial its representation is seems to be a shared sentiment. As the famous saying goes, “if you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism,” and, unfortunately, the perpetuation of stereotypes on most series doesn’t speak to this. Many “neurodiverse” characters are used as props or punchlines, because writers just can’t seem to figure out what to do with them. The exclusion of autistic people from their own narratives – whether that be autistic advisors, writers, or actors – is one that leads to damaging, ignorant portrayals, and the worst part is that the problem is completely avoidable.

The Importance of Inclusion

Plenty of autistic individuals are willing and able to share their experiences to ensure that they are represented accurately and honestly, and Alex Plank is leading that charge. Plank is an autistic activist, actor, filmmaker, consultant, and creator of influential website Wrong Planet. For two years, he worked closely with actress Diane Kruger on The Bridge, the short-lived FX crime drama that saw Kruger play a detective with Asperger’s. “I’ve spent – I’m not kidding – more time with him in the past four months than I have with my partner and friends,” Kruger told The Hollywood Reporter in 2013. “I sleep easier at night knowing that he watches over everything I do.” Plank is proud of the work that went into ensuring her character was played authentically, but admitted in a conversation with Decider that his hiring is a sadly rare occurrence in the industry:

“Most of the shows I see, like The Big Bang Theory, which doesn’t say he’s [Sheldon] autistic, but still – they go to a Wikipedia page for the word ‘autism’ and they just look at the symptoms and give their character every one of them. When in reality, an autistic character, an autistic person doesn’t have all those symptoms, everyone is different, it’s very nuanced. You can’t just do that. You have to create an autistic character on their own. You can’t just create a list of symptoms and make that a character. It has to be a real person.”

During his work on The Bridge, Plank was an integral part of the production process; he was on set during shoots, offered his insight in the writers’ room, and even worked with the editors to make sure certain autistic elements were included in the final cut. This is something Atypical could have benefited from, Plank says, because its lack of autistic involvement is pretty pronounced to him. “We have stories to tell,” he says. “If there’s going to be an autism show on TV, shouldn’t we be the ones telling it?” Plank does not shy away from his grievances about the lack of autistic voices in their own stories, and admits that he was wary of Atypical after he heard that there were no autistic people involved in the creative development process. While the production had auditioned actors on the spectrum for Sam’s role and featured autistic actor Anthony Jacques in a supporting role in two episodes, Plank believes an autistic advisor might have helped the series avoid the common plights of so many others.

“There’s a scene (in Atypical) where the parents go to a support group and they get lectured about using person-first language, when really autistic people prefer identity-first language,” Plank explained. “That would be something simple that – they could have that scene and then have the parents be like ‘well he prefers ‘autistic’ and most of his friends do, too.'” The problem with this, Plank continues, is that people watching the show may start using the wrong terminology – and identity-first language is preferred in the community for a reason. As Jim Sinclair wrote, saying “person with autism” implies something negative about being autistic, and that autism isn’t important; the general preferred nomenclature is “autistic person” – because “an essential feature” of someone’s personhood should not be seen as something bad.

Atypical has drawn a wide array of responses to the show from the autism community; many went in already soured due to the lack of autistic involvement, and as mentioned before, an autistic character created without autistic involvement is usually obvious. Exposure is paramount, but insight from the community is essential; when people are not allowed to weigh in on their own stories, misrepresentation is inevitable. Robia Rashid, Atypical‘s showrunner, was sensitive about the prospect of laughs at Sam’s expense on the show during the process. In a recent interview with Decider, Rashid stressed that the series aims to “open up a conversation about how people relate to special needs”, and that it was always important for her to “do it right.” Dean mirrors Rashid’s sentiments, and also thinks a major contribution of Atypical lies in the way it depicts a “spectrum of acceptance” when it comes to the way people interact with Sam. “I’m hoping that this will generate conversations among families or among people to really discriminate between levels of acceptance and levels of non-acceptance,” she says.

The conversation ignited by Atypical is now in full swing, and while some responses to overplayed, pantomime-like traits in Sam’s character have been critical, many of the discussions surrounding the representation of autistic people have now taken center stage – and that’s important.

A History of Misses (And a Few Hits)

The perpetuation of false stigmas about autistic people by the film and television industry over time comes as no surprise to members of the community – Hollywood has been struggling to represent people on the autism spectrum for years. When Decider spoke to science writer and acclaimed author of Neurotribes Steve Silberman, he stressed that autistic people have often been pigeonholed in their representation, and this is not something new. “Back in the ’60s, autism was sort of a Sunday special fodder,” he says. While the clinical understanding of autism has changed over time, says Silberman, media portrayal has continued to toe the line between two stark, inaccurate stereotypes:

“Autistic people end up being trapped between two opposite stereotypes: one is that they’re totally inept, they’re laughably insensitive to social clues, they’re constantly making social faux pas… But then the positive stereotype is that they’re all geeks and into the periodic table and they can solve the Rubik’s cube. And some autistic people can do these things… but that doesn’t mean that everyone can or even most autistic people have that level of ability.”

Many characters from mainstream series boast a slew of these lazy, overplayed stereotypes that fail to accurately depict autistic people. The “geek” and “superhero” trope – one that will undoubtedly play out on The Good Doctor – can be just as destructive as the aforementioned Sheldon. Author David Mitchell recently revealed he had spoken with a writer from The Big Bang Theory who admitted that Sheldon “has autism” but that they omit it because “a) it’s not relevant, and b) it then takes the show into a political dimension that we might not want to take it in.” This kind of attitude, according to writer Sarah Kurchak, is harmful.

“It’s just such a paint-by-numbers, superficial, and I think somewhat cruel portrayal of who we are,” she laments. Kurchak, who was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder at the age of 27, does not take the “power of representation” lightly. She is incredibly passionate about the way autistic people are depicted on screen, and finds herself exhausted by the repetitive, careless stereotypes. “They over-exaggerate some of the stiffness of our movement and posture… Everyone goes for that really monotone voice, which I think a lot of us have gotten away from,” she says.

The myth that all autistic people struggle with empathy and humor is another one that seems to make its way into most characters on the spectrum. “One of the most dastardly lies that has been told about autistic people for decades is that they lack emotion or lack empathy,” says Silberman. “Many autistic people are in fact terribly concerned about how other people feel about them, and depicting them as happy sociopaths is a terrible crime against autistic people.” Kurchak, who boasts a hearty sense of empathy and humor, also takes issue with this:

“The whole empathy thing – I think people are still messing that up. There is a theory that autistic people have hyper-empathy, so we look cold because we’re shutting down because we’re overwhelmed. But even autistic people who do struggle with empathy, it doesn’t mean they’re bad, cold people, it just means that they understand people a little differently… And I think the way that humor is dealt with in a lot of autistic characters is off… It’s that whole concept of laughing with versus laughing at. “Oh he’s weird, he has a special obsession, and he doesn’t understand what people are thinking, so he does something ridiculous.” It’s just such an oversimplified version of what happens. And I honestly don’t even think it’s that fun to watch.”

Plank agrees, and theorizes that it’s because that’s all people have ever really equated autism with. “That is the problem. That it’s a stereotype, and Hollywood has a tendency to sensationalize things by default.”

While stereotypes continue to appear, there have certainly been some strides made in on-screen portrayals of members of the autistic community. Many of the most-appreciated characters never name their autism, however – it’s largely only ever hinted at. Many of Kurchak’s favorite characters “have been ‘autist-ish’ rather than autistic, where they’ve not necessarily been specifically diagnosed, but there’s a lot that autistic viewers recognize in the characters,” she says. “Abed is pretty much the gold standard for us.” Kurchak is referring to Community‘s Abed Nadir (Danny Pudi), a character whose autism was never explicitly referenced, but has become something of an icon in the autism community due to his distinct traits. Creator Dan Harmon discovered he had Asperger’s while writing Abed’s character, a revelation that evidently informs Abed’s authenticity. Kurchak praises the subversion of stereotypes in the role, and credits Abed for having helped her understand her own diagnosis:

“Community came out right as I was diagnosed, and it was probably the most helpful thing about navigating it… Finally seeing this character that made sense to me because he wasn’t like Rain Man, he wasn’t a savant, he wasn’t into math – he used pop culture to navigate the world, which was exactly what I did. And he was treated no more or no less than any of the other characters, he was holistically within the ensemble but also his own entity… It’s not just the quirks and the symptoms that people feel, it’s like quirks and symptoms interacting with an internal light and a personality and how that all comes together.”

Silberman echoes Kurchak’s sentiments about Abed, recalling that Harmon once told him that Abed wasn’t initially designed to be an autistic character, but the feedback loop from viewers evidently informed Abed’s character development. “The thing about Abed is that he has dignity,” Silberman says. “He’s not just comic relief, he’s not just ‘oh, this guy is such a dork’.”

Moss (Richard Ayoade) from The IT Crowd, is another soft spot for Kurchak, who she says “is a complex human being”, and that Hannibal‘s Will Graham (Hugh Dancy) is also “an interesting take on potential autism.” Just like Plank, it’s clear to Kurchak what level of autistic involvement there is in a character’s construction, and she articulates this profoundly when discussing Brick from The Middle. “It’s a character that feels to me that it was written not by an autistic person, but by someone who loves an autistic person,” she says. Another prominent autistic character, Parenthood‘s Max Braverman, has often been praised for his authentic-feeling portrayal, perhaps due to show creator Jason Katim having a son on the spectrum. They might not get everything right, according to Kurchak and Plank, but they do directly address that Max is autistic and respectfully attempt to depict his experience, unlike the majority of shows out there.

There’s a big problem in not naming autism – and it’s more common than is should be. While The Good Doctor and Atypical have some work to do, they have made one very important motion – explicitly naming autism, and accepting the responsibility that comes with it (a move the majority of series avoid). When writers appropriate distinct traits but refuse to call a character autistic (like Sheldon), it can be detrimental. “I think what that means is that they want to make fun of autism without getting called on it,” says Kurchak.

Mallory Thomas, an autistic activist and advocate for autistic people who was diagnosed this year, draws the same conclusion when she sees these kinds of portrayals. “I think it can be harmful in that those characters are thought of as just weird or awkward and end up being the butts of jokes,” she says. “I also think that a lot of the time writers are looking for an easy out if they mess up the portrayal of an autistic character. It’s a lot easier to sort of crib certain traits and when questioned about it say that the intention wasn’t to create an autistic character even though as an audience, we know autistic characters when we see them.”

Most television portrayals of autistic people confine their characters to one box: a straight, white male – and this is reflective of the dramatic lack of diagnosis of autistic women and people of color. Thomas is the first to call this out, and admits that she thinks it might have contributed to her late diagnosis. “Media that paints all autistic people as one ‘type’ makes it hard for someone like me to get diagnosed and recognized by my peers and family members,” she explains. “Neurotypical people, even clinicians, have a hard time believing someone like me exists, an autistic woman of color, because of the lifelong conditioning they’ve received from inaccurate media representations.” Silberman is also quick to address the danger in omitting women and people of color:

“Autism is still primarily considered a condition of white men, and that has ramifications that go far beyond portrayals in popular dramas, because women and people of color are still radically under-diagnosed by the medical establishment. If the only role models of autistic adulthood that are visible in pop culture are geeky white men, those are the people who will find it easiest to get a diagnosis and the help and support that they and their families need. And that’s terrible. It’s time to broaden the visible population of autistics in pop culture to include autistic women and autistic people of color.”

The Future: Nothing About Us, Without Us

How can we do better? The first step is simple – we must include autistic people in their own narratives. “An autistic actor playing an autistic character can speak up during the filming process and make notes about what they think is unrealistic, wrong, or upsetting,” says Thomas. “It’s a valuable resource for writers and showrunners to have so that they can produce a much more accurate piece of media.” If there’s one sentiment shared by Plank, Kurchak, Thomas, and Silverman, it’s that autistic involvement is imperative. We cannot continue to simply turn to experts, parents, or other outsiders for their interpretations of the autistic experience. “The inclusion of autistic voices is 100% necessary for us to go forward,” Kurchak reiterates. “I don’t necessarily mean that only autistic people can write autistic stories in the future, but we have to be involved, and we should be the driving force of the next wave of autism entertainment.”

Exclusion is frequently born from archaic beliefs, and they must be erased if we are to move forward. “One of the roots of the issue of representation is not only showing that we exist and have always existed, but also that we have the ability to shape and create our own narratives,” says Thomas. “I think a lot of what we see now in terms of neurotypical writers, directors, producers and showrunners not consulting with us is the fact that they haven’t really sat down and interrogated why they don’t speak with us as often as they speak with say, neurotypical representatives from Autism Speaks or neurotypical doctors and parents,” she says. “They need to ask themselves if they’re doing everything they can do to make talking to autistic people a priority and if they’re making our seats at the table accessible.” Kurchak echoes Thomas, and emphasizes how crucial it is to help autistic people who may not be able to take the first step:

“The entertainment industry is hard for autistic people to navigate… Mentorship is going to be needed, we need to seek out and really nurture autistic artists from every medium, and I think people are actually just going to have to reach out to us. Because we’re there and we’re working and we’re trying, but not all of us can bridge that step to knock on a door, and even if we do knock on the door, are we going to be heard? So we’re going to need allistic [neurotypical] people to be allies here and seek out our voices. And then also consultation; if you’re not willing to talk to an autistic person about an autistic character you’re writing, you’re probably not going to write an autistic human in whatever you’re writing. Because if you can’t think of us as real people in real life, you’re not going to do it in art.”

If autistic people – and not just white men, but women, people of color, and the LGBTQ community – are a part of their own narratives, then we will inevitably be left with more accurate, honest, and sensitive portrayals of autistic individuals on screen.”There’s this hangover from the decades when autism was limited to children of people thinking that autistic people need someone else to represent their perspective,” says Silberman. “And that is certainly no longer true.” Autistic individuals want to be included in telling their own stories, and want to see themselves portrayed in a way that feels authentic and respectful – and prevents the spread of tired stereotypes. “It’s important for us to have characters that we can see on the screen. I think it’s very helpful for allistic [neurotypical] people who aren’t us to see us in art too, because it is the great empathizer.” Art has the power to affect change, and by giving often-silenced voices the platform they’ve been denied for so long – and the opportunity to tell their own stories – this progress can begin.

There’s a long road ahead for the representation of autistic people on television, but the discussion sparked by Atypical does offer a glimmer of hope. While she has her qualms with the show, Kurchak commends the Netflix series for playing a vital role in sparking conversation. “Even if Netflix and the entertainment industry aren’t hiring us yet, there’s been way more outreach to us as autistic voices around the coverage of this,” she says. “That’s a silver lining here: there’s a positive shift in how we’re talking about how we’re represented, even if the shift in how we’re represented isn’t happening yet.”