Autism is beginning to look like a super power
IT’S been a long time since Rain Man, but autism is finally getting a starring role on screen. As an autistic woman, I couldn’t be happier, writes Madeleine Ryan.
Rendezview
Don't miss out on the headlines from Rendezview. Followed categories will be added to My News.
SO autism on screen is starting to look a lot like a superpower, and I’m all for my neurological predisposition being portrayed in this way.
Why fight it, you know? Hand me my cape — or, more likely, my calculator or scalpel — and let’s do this thing.
It’s more fun to accept than the fate of Rain Man’s Raymond Babbitt, who has the potential to be a genius, yet still ends up back at the institution. Sure, all autistic people can’t be flexing muss like the hard-core, sniper-wielding, autistic accountant with a “moral code” portrayed by Ben Affleck in The Accountant.
Nor can we necessarily display the savant skills of highly-functioning autistic surgeon Dr Shaun Murphy of Seven’s new show The Good Doctor, whose mind refuses to “behave” & is “anything but normal.”
But we can take pride in our uniqueness, and work toward having our differences embraced.
And by differences I also mean, you know, being female and autistic. Because, currently, there are far less autistic women on screen than there are men. Sesame Street’s recent addition, Julia, is an awesome autistic girl: the only real drawback being that she’s made of foam. There are a few female characters that display autistic traits, yet the status of their brain wiring has remained distinctly closeted. These include Saga Noren of The Bridge, Suzanne Warren aka “Crazy Eyes” of Orange is the New Black and Temperance “Bones” Brennan of Bones.
So I’m very excited to announce that, this week, for the first time, I saw an autistic woman on screen. Her name is Sarah and she was played by autistic actor Samantha Elisofon in Rachel Israel’s, Keep the Change, which won Best Picture at the Tribeca Film Festival and is currently screening at the Jewish International Film Festival.
Sarah doesn’t possess any of the qualities I idolised in female characters growing up. Not that they were especially noble qualities to be idolising anyway: Carrie Bradshaw spent most of her time addicted to shoes, men and cigarettes; Buffy solved her problems with roundhouse kicks; and Lola from Run Lola Run may have been a testament to the benefits of cardiovascular fitness, but she also held up her dad’s bank and screamed a lot.
Meanwhile, Sarah wears a backpack, has a learning disability, lives with her grandma and adores to sing even though the noises that burst out of her don’t fit with ideas others have about what sounds good. Nor do they seem to emerge in entirely appropriate moments, like, in the middle of a dinner, or while on a date. So the question for Sarah becomes whether or not she can be herself in the face of ridicule and rejection, or just how much she wants to fit in. Which — from what I understand — is a challenge that most people can relate to.
We all want to be loved and accepted for who we are, and appreciated for what we have to offer. It isn’t just an autistic thing: it’s an everyone-everywhere-everyday thing.
We all grapple with what to say or not say, sing or not sing, share or not share, and we face this challenge at work, at home, at dinner, on dates and on transport. The heroism we all know and understand doesn’t involve hand-to-hand combat or solving crimes. It’s decisions that we make throughout the day, everyday.
So this out-and-proud, female, autistic character was a powerful reminder that real heroism isn’t reserved for the freaky genii among us, or, you know, for men. It can be female and autistic and off-pitch. It can have unhealthy posture and difficulty expressing itself. Because the ultimate strength, and genius of all genius, is inside each and every one of us — and it’s a superpower called the human heart.
The Good Doctor airs on Channel 7 on Thursdays at 8.30pm. The Jewish International Film Festival is on in Melbourne, Sydney, Canberra and Perth now.
Originally published as Autism is beginning to look like a super power