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Introduction
A child. A boy. Maybe hes six, maybe hes twelve. Probably somewhere in between. He
sits in a corner, rocking himself back and forth. Beyond that, he does not move. He moans
intermittently. To some people, this boy is the image of autism: young, male, low-functioning.
But hes not the definition. Or, instead, an adult. He is clever, quirky, has a few close friends. He
can tell you the weekday of any date from the last century. He is high-functioning. He is a
savant. Is this image of autism really less insulting? To stereotype positively is still to stereotype,
after all. In fact, one could describe lists upon lists of autistic people all along the autism
spectrum and still not come up with the definitive image of what exactly autism is. As a spectrum
disorder, the differences found could fill entire encyclopedias with what it means to be autistic.
How, then, have these two stereotypes pervaded the collective consciousness, despite their
inherent contradiction? Despite the fact that science has consistently described autism as a
spectrum? Stereotypes exist to simplify the complex, and no one and nothing demonstrates that
as succinctly as stereotypes portrayed in movies, television, and literature. An evolving
understanding of autism and autism spectrum disorders has resulted in more autistic characters,
but despite these more accurate and more common characters, media still perpetuates stereotypes
about autism.
Review of Literature
To examine stereotypes about autism one must first examine autism itself, and what it
actually entails. It is defined as a complex neurodevelopmental disorder, meaning that it is a
condition with multiple contributing causes that arises from or during the development of the
brain (National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, 2015, para. 1). Autism spectrum
disorders (ASD) themselves are disorders which impair interpersonal communication (NINDS,

2015; What is Autism, n.d.). In simple terms, it can be anything from the inability to articulate
ones meaning properly to the inability to read nonverbal body language to the inability to
identify tone and emotion. The symptoms are varied--it is a spectrum--but the keystone is
inappropriate social interaction stemming from that impaired interpersonal communication
(Asperger, n.d., para 3). This can include saying things that do not fit the mood of the room
(e.g. laughing at a funeral), going off topic, or asking questions that are perceived as rude.
Special interests are also commonly found in autistic people, and a focus on special interests can
cause inappropriate social interaction; for example, a person with autism may change the current
topic to that of their interest with no conversational cues to do so and then refuse to change the
topic back. These interests are different from non-autistic (allistic) hobbies in that they are highly
focused areas of interest akin to obsession, with little to no care about the world beyond the
interest (What is Autism, n.d.).
Additionally autism can be accompanied by a learning disability, a savant ability, or any
level of intelligence therebetween. About half of the autistic population possesses cognitive
abilities that fall into the normal range (What is Autism, n.d.) while only 10% or less have
savant abilities, or cognitive ability far exceeding what is considered normal (Edelson, n.d;
Autistic Savants, n.d.). This obviously leaves plenty of room for autistic people who have belowaverage cognitive capabilities. Finally, and seemingly just to muddle the already confusing
waters of an autism diagnosis, ASD are often comorbid with other disorders. Possible other
disorders are epilepsy, sensory processing disorders, obsessive compulsive disorder, and
attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (Comorbid, n.d.). The symptoms of these comorbid
disorders can further confuse not only the medical diagnoses of ASD but the public
understanding of those ASD. Simply put, autism is not simple at all.

That complexity is well-reflected in the autistic-coded characters from the media of years
past. One of the keystones of autistic literature appeared in the late 19th century, when the
literary world glimpsed its first autistic savant in Detective Sherlock Holmes (Doyle, 1892).
Holmes has been the subject of intense debate with regards to the presence of autism in his
character, and the arguments for Holmes as an autist are still applied to modern characters
(Albrecht, 2011). The problem with the good detective is not only that he perpetuates stereotypes
about autism but also that he is the founding father of those stereotypes. For example, autistic
people are often objectified, dehumanized, and otherized--they are less considered human beings
capable of emotion than they are machines, not able to think or act for themselves. John Watson,
Holmes closest friend and ally, tells him "[y]ou really are an automaton -- a calculating
machine [t]here is something positively inhuman in you at times" (Doyle, 1887, p. 23). And,
far from being insulted or hurt by Watsons observation, Holmes reacts by not reacting: he does
not defend himself and does not refute Watsons claims. This is not the only time Watson
objectifies and dehumanizes Holmes, nor is it the only time Holmes shrugs it off with inhuman
coldness. This pattern of objectification and non-response culminates in either in-narrative
rejection of the autistic character, or the decision by an allistic character(s) to take care of the
poor autistic person as one would a child. This leads to othering of autistics at best and
infantilization, paternalization, and dehumanization at worst. According to Sonya Loftis (2014),
Holmes abilities are astounding, puzzling, and extraordinary to Watsons neurotypical
mind (para. 7). Indeed, Holmes is not seen as an above-average human but a prodigious
superhuman or even nonhuman, unrelatable on even the basest level. He is a savant; to some, he
is the savant. In Doyles works (1892), Sherlock Holmes is the detective to end all detectives, the
connector of all the hidden pieces. He can observe anybody and proceed to tell them everything
about their life, so far as to accurately describe James Mortimer based solely on his walking stick
in chapter 1 of The Hound of the Baskervilles. He can observe a crime scene and put together an

exact recount of what occurred. He can recite information with textbook accuracy on any of a
thousand subjects, with such obscure topics as the difference between 140 kinds of cigar ash
(elaborated fully in his monograph Upon the Distinction Between the Ashes of the Various
Tobaccos). He is, quite possibly, the most intelligent man in all London. This level of skill is far
beyond that of a normal detective. Holmes is a savant. Obviously, autism is not correlated to
superpowers, but it is also not always correlated to savantism or super-intelligence either. Recall
that 90% of autistics do not have savant abilities, and about 50% have average intelligence. Why,
then, is the media obsessed with autistic savant characters?
Enter To Kill a Mockingbirds Boo Radley, 70 years after Holmes. He is, arguably, a more
accurate depiction of an autistic man since since he is not a superman of his community, or the
most intelligent man in the sleepy town of Maycomb, Alabama. He is, in fact, a recluse, who
lives with his father and communicates indirectly with two neighborhood children as his only
form of interacting with the outside world (Lee, 1960). Demonstrating sensory processing
difficulties, an inability to communicate with others, and very narrow interests, Radley could be
seen as a decently respectful--at least for the time--example of a low-functioning autistic man
(Harrison, 2014). Alas, as far as everyone in the neighborhood is concerned, he is a psychopath
as well. Radleys propensity towards violence, the looming threat of being brutally killed if one
ventures onto his property (as Mockingbirds child characters dare one another to do) are popular
topics both in-narrative and between characters. The elaborate tales of attacking his family when
he was younger are so widespread in Maycomb that they may as well be fact, even though the
protagonist Scout later develops a better understanding and even friendship with Radley (Lee,
1960). The theoretical connection between ASD and violent tendencies still lingers: check any
list of mass shooters to see how many are suspected of having autism or Aspergers syndrome
(Wagner, 2012; Carley, 2015; Stanton; 2014). And, further detracting from Radleys status as
ostensibly respectful, if not accurate, he too has an incredible ability: soap carving. Scout and her

brother Jem find in the hole of the tree they have been receiving gifts from Boo Radley--although
they do not know the sender--two soap figurines: They were almost perfect miniatures of two
children. The boy had shorts, and a shock of soapy hair fell to his eyebrows. The girl-doll
wore bangs. So did I (Lee, 1960, p. 60). Those perfect miniatures of Scout and Jem are not
something that could be created by someone without great talent at both carving and carving
accurately. Boo Radley perpetuates two stereotypes, then, but this can be clearly attributed to the
theories abound during the time of writing. The refrigerator mother theory, that a lack of parental
warmth during child development causes autism, took root in the 50s (Refrigerator Mothers,
2002); the book was written during that decade and published in 1960. Although the story itself
takes place in the 30s, the idea that the absence of Radleys mother and the cruelty--and possible
abusiveness--of his father caused his autism is one that can be followed through the subtext of
the book and clearly reflects the connection between fictional characters and the medical theories
of the period (Lee, 1960). Thus, although the medical understanding of autism had advanced at
the time of writing, the character of Boo Radley is one which still perpetuated stereotypes about
savantism, violence, and otherization.
The absent mother is again present nearly 30 years later in Mark Johnson and Barry
Levinsons Rain Man (1988), the movie that introduced autism to the world. The protagonist
Charlie Babbitt has a severely autistic older brother in Raymond, one he does not even know
exists until his father dies and leaves his fortune to the brothers living facility (Johnson &
Levinson, 1988). The absenteeism here, though, is less likely a perpetuation of the refrigerator
mother theory and more likely born of the desire to simplify the cast. Like his predecessors
Sherlock Holmes and Boo Radley, Raymond Babbitt is dehumanized, but unlike the others,
Raymond is treated as an object--a bargaining chip in Charlies plot to get his hands on his
fathers fortune. Charlie comes to take his brother from his facility, and states that I got him and
they want him [] Im going to keep him until I get my half [of the inheritance] (Johnson &

Levinson, 1988). For a good part of the plot, Raymond could be replaced by any item of
significant value, at least until Charlie begins to grow as a person. Then, his younger brother
takes advantage of Raymonds savant ability to make money gambling. The unintelligent and
low-functioning Raymond Babbitt is unbelievably good with complex numbers; he can instantly
count the number of toothpicks that have fallen out of a box, he can count cards from a mixed 6deck shoe in Blackjack, and he can instantly and accurately multiply 4-digit numbers in his head.
Raymond Babbitt has been hailed as an accurate low-functioning autistic character, yet he still
must have savant abilities to tell the audience beyond any doubt that yes, he is autistic. By then,
autism and savantism were already so deeply interwoven that one could not be present without
the other.
Modern autistic-coded characters are much more common than their predecessors, which
matches the trend growing consumer desire for stories whose protagonists are in one way or
another different from the norm (LGBT characters, superpowered characters, minority
characters, et al). Yet this desire to see the other still overall misportrays autistics. A rare one who
has been hailed as funny, accurate, and respectful by the autistic community is Abed Nadir from
Community, a show about what is ostensibly a study group at a Greendale Community College.
Nadir has an exceptional knowledge of pop culture but has difficulty understanding behavioral
cues and interacting with others (Foster, Krasnoff, & Harmon, 2009). Although Nadir is
technically never diagnosed in-series, the possibility of him having Aspergers is discussed as
early as the first episode, and his behaviors consistently line up in a way that implies its
presence. His disorder is not mined for comedy more than any other characters quirks, and he is
shown as a sympathetic character, capable of functioning and having friends without needing
three doctorates or a genuis-level IQ, like many real-life autistics. Another suspected Aspie is
Temperance Brennan, the titular protagonist of the crime drama Bones. She is a socially
awkward but prodigiously talented forensic investigator who has difficulties with her friends and

romances due to her inability to read other peoples emotions and expectations (Reichs,
Deschanel, & Boreanaz, 2005). Although she is also Aspergers-coded, the possibility is never
discussed in-series: an even more egregious fault than with Nadir, because Brennan is based in
part on a real-life person with Aspergers (Sepinwall, 2007). Bones still represents a sympathetic
and functional autistic person, but her consistent (if milder than previous examples)
dehumanization and superhuman intelligence detract from both her realism and her
respectfulness. Finally, Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory is a mathematical genius,
extraordinarily intelligent, and neurotically obsessive about his habits and routines (Lorre,
Molaro, Prady, & Belyeu, 2007). Cooper is an amalgam of stereotypes, including those of
Silicon Valley scientist, comic book nerd, and Aspie, but none of them are completely accurate,
and none of them are the slightest bit respectful: he comes across as more of a parody than an
attempted accurate portrayal. The three characters (two of whom misrepresent ASD in some
way) are some of the most well-recognized modern autistic characters in television, a medium
which can reach a very large audience over a long period of time.
So, with this mass of popular and well-known Aspergers-coded characters across genres,
the question becomes why are these characters only coded? If so many series have characters
based in part on autistic characteristics, and so many people are exposed to those series, why are
they never explicitly labelled? According to Hart Hanson, the creator of Bones, part of it is
because so many people are going to see the show: "[i]f we were on cable, we would have said
from the beginning that Brennan has Aspergers [i]nstead, it being a network, we decided not
to label a main character, for good or for bad" (Sepinwall, 2007, para. 14). Similar to the issue of
LGBT-coding, when characters are implied to be gay without that being stated, the goal of
Aspergers-coding is to stay on the air by avoiding alienating ignorant and biased audiences who
would refuse to watch the show if a character was explicitly stated as their coded trait. Clearly,
unwillingness to label a main character in fear of turning off the audience is a problem in modern

media, but that is much more the fault of the audience for being biased than the producers for
wanting to spread their information without encountering that bias. On the other hand, the
creators of The Big Bang Theory have said that they do not want to label Sheldon because that
would make them responsible for portraying Aspergers syndrome accurately, a responsibility
that they do not want to introduce to the lighthearted comedy show (Sepinwall, 2007). Whether
this reluctance is based on their lack of desire to research the nuanced disorder or lack of desire
to confine themselves to a certain set of behaviors is not stated. But this raises the question of
whether or not comedy is required to be politically correct, and also whether a character can be
accurate but still be comedic because comedy is built on exaggeration. For political correctness,
it is argued that people learn from media and therefore it should be accurate; against, it is argued
that people can control their own decisions and do not need to be policed. For better or worse,
the Big Bang Theory producers have not diagnosed their character, and thus have dodged the
question for another day.
Not being diagnosed is not the only commonality that Aspergers-coded characters face
in modern media. Although most modern characters are high-functioning, as opposed to Boo
Radley or Raymond Babbitt, they still possess savant skills--things at which they are
overwhelmingly, often unrealistically, good (Prochnow, 2014). Nadir demonstrates this ability
the least of the three characters, as he is a film producer of middling to good quality except when
it is played up for comedic effect. Brennan, however, has a much more impressive skillset: she
has three degrees in anthropology, forensic anthropology, and kinesiology, can make minute
observations about suspects in the vein of Holmes and can reconstruct bodies with incredible
skill. Sheldon Cooper, B.S., M.S., M.A., Ph.D., Sc.D, is the most outlandish example. He is one
of the smartest 25 people in the world, is a theoretical physicist at the famed CalTech, and has
the traits of a gamut of other disorders including but not limited to OCD, mysophobia,
narcissistic personality disorder, borderline personality disorder, and paranoid personality

disorder (Gypsumgirl, 2014). All three modern characters demonstrate some level of savant skill
more than once, despite the fact that the majority of autistics are not savants. In short, they do not
reflect the real world, or the real-world autistics they are based off of. Then how and why have
characters perpetuated that stereotype, despite the readily available information that it is patently
untrue?
There are two reasons, and the first is that it is just easier. According to Douwe Draaisma
(2009), savantism has become the quick way of pointing out that autistic people are being dealt
with (para. 13). It is much faster to imply that a character is autistic by giving them the famous
exceptional traits found in fiction than it is to develop his or her personality and characteristics
with the more subtle indicators of autism--after all, TV characters are given limited screen time
per episode, and, additionally, must share that time with other characters--assuming that the
majority audience would even recognize those subtle indicators to begin with. The second reason
is what is referred to as the magical autist theory, which is a narrower form of the disability
superpower trope (Prochnow, 2014, p. 137; Disability Superpower, n.d., para 4). The idea is
that if a character is physically or mentally disabled in some way they must have superhuman
abilities to make up for the handicap, abilities which may even be caused by their disability in
the first place (Fisher, 2010; Parlock, 2015; Prochnow, 2014; Bethune, 2009). The magical autist
theory is inherently harmful, as it implies that autistic people must have some exceptional skill in
order to be equal to their allistic counterparts. Despite that harmfulness, the stereotype is all
encompassing. It is nigh-impossible to find an Aspergers-coded character who does not have, to
some degree, an extraordinary skill which they use to propel the plot forward. Perhaps this can
be blamed on fictions long-standing love affair with the exceptional--as far back as Hercules and
as recently as Superman. But, given the preponderance of neurotypical characters who get to
have both superhuman abilities and their own development, perhaps not.

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The other shared trait between Aspergers-coded characters is a propensity towards the
science, technology, engineering, or math fields. One will find, particularly in crime dramas, that
the scientists (such as forensic pathologists and medical examiners) tend to be overwhelmingly
autistic-coded compared to their counterparts, although field workers do not always escape
stereotyping. This can be seen in Criminal Minds, The Bridge, CSI, Sherlock, Mr. Robot, NCIS;
virtually any show with a large enough cast and enough focus on any of the STEM fields will
have at least one Aspergers-coded character. The persistence of the autism in STEM stereotype
is one that has already had a very real impact on the world: it, in part, led to the--disproven--idea
that there is a higher occurrence of Aspergers syndrome in Silicon Valley than the rest of the
non-technical USA, and even led to the nickname of Aspergers as geek syndrome (Roberson,
2014, para. 5). This, combined with the fact that most Aspergers-coded characters are referenced
as having entered their field of choice at a young age, works to effectively funnel autistic kids
into a very narrow range of acceptable interests. The stereotyping is an issue because autistic
peoples special interests can be anything: baseball, animal husbandry, or 17th century French
poets are all possibilities. But if these people are shunted onto a narrow path regardless of their
own interests, as can be seen in stereotyping based on sex or race, it vastly diminishes their
ability to work a fulfilling job based on what they have talent for and enjoy. Another massive but
less immediately apparent problem is that some of the people with geek syndrome are simply
unable to work in the fields they are pushed towards. Some autistics can and do have learning
disabilities or below-average intelligence (sometimes called low-functioning), which work
very effectively to bar them from the STEM fields: that is, the ones they are actively being told
to follow. Caught between an unstoppable force and an immovable object, this subset of autistic
people are once more denied the ability to decide and define for themselves. And then, the
problem with stereotypes comes together all at once: what happens to the real life autistic people
who do not match up to the stereotypes?

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This is the answer to why does it matter? This is why fiction is fiction is not a valid
excuse for misinformation. People learn from what they read and what they watch, and what they
learn based on this sampling is both inaccurate and stereotypical. The historical characters
perpetuate the idea that autistics are inhumans with savant abilities, and the modern characters
perpetuate the idea that autistics must go into STEM and still have savant abilities. When this
character design is repeated enough, it becomes very difficult for people to avoid the stereotype,
and even harder from them to avoid subscribing to the stereotype. Say a fourteen year old boy
reads To Kill a Mockingbird in school and sees discussion over whether or not Boo Radley is
autistic. What does he learn from that? Why, that autistic people are violent recluses. He fears, a
fear founded in fiction and falsehood. Or a mother goes to the doctor to ask about her sons
strange behavior and he is diagnosed with autism. She has seen Rain Man, she has read Sherlock
Holmes; she knows that he will develop some incredible talent to make up for his disability.
When he does not, she gets frustrated, a frustration based on misinformation and high
expectations. People learn from their media, and most of all they learn from repeated exposure.
That is where the real-world effect of autism stereotypes rise up. The general population,
the laymen who are not particularly educated on autism or its related issues, foster stereotypes
about ASD that they develop and nurture based on the media (McKeever, 2012). And those
stereotypes, as they so often do, spread through the rest of the population. The human mind
creates and accepts stereotypes to boil complex interpersonal information into easily-managed
and remembered factoids, regardless of their inaccuracy or generalization (Cultural
Stereotypes, 2014; Draaisma, 2009). Additionally, stereotypes begin with the sharing of
information and evolve as they are passed from person to person (Cultural Stereotypes 2014).
If the initial, true statement is autistics can have savant abilities, it is not impossible to imagine
the leap made to autistics do have savant abilities as that information proliferates. Similarly,
autistic people can turn towards STEM fields may have turned into autistic people work in

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STEM fields over time for the same reason. Furthermore, the cycle of media is selfperpetuating; if something, regardless of its accuracy, is used widely enough, it is accepted as
fact, and is then used as the basis for further derivative ideas. That is how stereotypes are spread.
What happens once they become common knowledge? The first problem is that positive
stereotypes, e.g. savantism, have been shown to lead to stronger negative beliefs about the
stereotyped group by creating an initial acceptable connection in the stereotypers mind which
allows negative connections to be made. Those positive stereotypes then makes the thinker
biased against the stereotyped group because they supposedly have it better (Burkeman, 2012).
So, and disregarding the other issues with this stereotype mentioned before, the seeminglyinnocuous idea that autistic people may have fantastical skills is one which ends up doing more
harm than good. For the actual victims of stereotypes as opposed to the ones doing the
stereotyping, the effects are worse because they are the ones with expectations (both bad and
good) being forced upon them. Even positive stereotypes have been proven to make their victims
feel depersonalized and angry, and not only perpetuate a divide of us vs them but have
lingering effects on the victims: [p]eople perform poorly in situations where they feel they are
being stereotyped, and they [are] still more likely to be aggressive and lacking in self-control
even a while after stereotyping happens (Christie, 2014, para. 8; para. 5). In short, stereotypes
are bad. Bad for the people doing the stereotyping and bad for the victims of it. But they can, of
course, get worse.
When the general population has widely-held stereotypes, it obviously is not a good
thing, but they are not likely to have any major influence on the lives of autistic people based on
those stereotypes. When specialized and interactive populations hold stereotypes, however, the
results can be more impactful, more lasting, and even more deadly. For example, police across
the United States have a bad track record of interacting with autistic people. A 17-year-old black
autistic boy from St. Paul was tackled to the ground by the police in a metro station, despite

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being nonviolent, not committing any crime, and not being intoxicated in any way (OConnell,
2015). Existing as an autistic person was sufficient enough cause for brutality. Another 17-yearold black autistic boy, from the Bronx, was violently beaten and arrested outside of his own
home--again, with no cause given (Brown, Vartorella, & Hutchinson, 2015). Being autistic was
his only crime, and he was attacked for it. These incidents may stem from deeply rooted ableism,
racism, or a mix of the two, and strengthen the historical idea that minorities (in this case, the
autistic minority) can be mistreated by forces such as the police and their attackers will not be
prosecuted because they are not afforded the same rights as the majority (the allistic majority).
According to Colleen Berryessa (2014), there are many more incidences of baseless police
violences against the disabled, and the predisposition for violence demonstrated by those cops
might be explained by the fact that they are not trained on how to handle autistic suspects, they
are not familiar with autistic people, or that they believe the sensationalization of violent
criminals who have Aspergers syndrome and perpetuate the theoretical link between autism and
violence. Whatever the cause, the issue is that the police have not and do not handle autistic
suspects with the same care that should be afforded to all citizens, and this simple affront works
to define autistics as second-class citizens in the eyes of those who need to uphold the law.
The police are not the only population causing issues for autistics: the educational system
is notoriously lacking in the special-needs department. The Common Core system, which defines
standards to which all students must be held, can be incredibly tough on students with special
needs (such as some students with autism). Worse, some schools actually forbid teachers from
changing the lesson material--for example, from inaccessible Shakespeare to something more
understandable--to accommodate their students needs and abilities (Beals, 2014). The
environment itself can also be unforgiving for students with sensory sensitivities or sensory
processing disorders, between things like chalk, bright lights, and excessive noise. Students are

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thus held to standards that they cannot achieve, and they and their teachers are blamed for their
inevitable failure rather than the impossible method of the system itself.
Worse still are instances of physical abuse of disabled students at schools, which have
been well-documented at the Judge Rotenberg Center in Massachusetts. United Nations
representative Juan Mendez has referred to the school's practice of electroshock therapy
(differing from electroconvulsive therapy, which is mild and performed under anesthesia) as a
form of torture (Willingham, 2013). The schools shock-packs are not FDA approved, there has
been video released of a student being tortured with electric shocks, there have been interviews
with former students about the conditions they suffered at the school, and yet the JRC is still
running. This is one of the first and most shocking evidences that the legal system, too, does not
care for autistic Americans as it does allistic ones. Autism is generally considered a childrens
disorder; everything from the puzzle-piece logo to the primary colors typically associated with it
suggest that the majority of autistics are children. And, yes, most autism diagnoses go to
children, because it is a disorder which can be diagnosed very young. But those autistic children
grow up into autistic adults and find themselves losing access to facilities and health coverage
due to their age. Medicaid and many Childrens Health Insurance Programs have an age cap
which stop helping low-income autistics with their medical coverage at age 21, and other
coverage can be hard to come by (Andrews, 2014). Until fairly recently, ASD were also not wellsupported under the Americans with Disabilities Act, and the disabled minimum wage can still
be legally be as low as pennies per day (Badesch, 2015). The legal system can go as far as to
treat its autistic subjects as second-class citizens undeserving of the same rights as its allistic and
able-bodied citizens, and there are not enough activists trying to stop it.
The impoverished, low-functioning autistic person is a far cry from the smart, quirky,
comfortable autistic of television and movies but is a far realer person than the fictional and

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unrealistic depictions present now. The obsession, even fetishization, of autism in media
manages simultaneously to misrepresent and to overrepresent autism, and has only gained steam
with the passing of time. Rather than reflecting autism accurately the media traps it in a hall of
mirrors and warps its own image beyond recognition, leaving autistics objectified, fetishized,
depersonalized, and alone. So what can be done? What will be done? How will America, how
will the world, address this crisis of fact in its entertainment? How will the industry overcome
the hurdle of accuracy? How will it learn to tell a compelling emotional narrative that happens to
have an autistic character, instead of having that character be its narrative? A cynic would say
that it cannot be done. But a dreamer would say: we can and we will, we will research and write
and grow and bring our medium along with us into the modern era. And the entertainment
industry is full of dreamers.