On Being Represented

I’ve always been a big believer in the idea that representation matters in the media, but as a straight white guy, I’ve never really lacked for representation, so it’s a concept I mostly view in the abstract.

Lana Beniko in Star Wars: The Old RepublicHowever, there is the one major way in which I’m not not like the average guy, so in that way I don’t get to feel represented. Autistic characters in the media tend to be pretty rare. It occurred to me it might be interesting to do an analysis of those characters I have encountered that are either canonically autistic or perceived that way by fans and see how well they represent me.

A few caveats:

This is hardly an exhaustive list of autistic/autistic-seeming characters in the media. They’re just the ones I know. I don’t generally go looking for them. I already live with autism every day; I don’t crave it in my entertainment.

Second, I can of course only speak for myself, and not everyone on the spectrum everywhere. My opinions may not be shared by others with my condition.

Finally, I do wish to state that I am not drawing a comparison between my situation and the challenges faced by women or ethnic or sexual minorities. I do not believe there is an equivalence. As a heterosexual cisgender white man who can pass for normal on a limited basis, I still enjoy a great deal of systemic privilege.

Sylvia Tilly (Star Trek: Discovery):

I don’t think Tilly is autistic?

Mary Wiseman as Sylvia Tilly on Star Trek: DiscoveryHonestly, I was very surprised when I stumbled across this fan theory. I never got that vibe from her at all. Yes, she’s a bit socially awkward, but so are lots of people who aren’t on the spectrum, and aside from that nothing at all about Tilly points me in that direction.

She’s a fun character, and I like her, but I never saw her as autistic. It’s also worth noting neither the writers nor the actress see the character that way, either.

Cole and Sera (Dragon Age: Inquisition):

It quickly became clear to me when playing Inquisition that Cole was a stand-in for an autistic person, and upon doing some Google research I learned that yes, this was something the writers did deliberately.

This might be my overly literal autistic mind talking, but I feel that the fantasy element of Cole — that he’s a magical spirit and not a human — rather undermines any relevance he might have to real world people. He doesn’t feel representative of me or my experiences. He’s an interesting character, but not because of any parallels to the real world.

The one thing I will give credit to is that I feel they did a very good job of being even-handed around the story of whether to make Cole more human or more spirit, which is clearly meant to echo the real world debate over whether a hypothetical cure for autism would be ethical. Both options in the game are treated as valid and lead to happy endings for Cole, which I think is a good way to handle things. The debate gets pretty heated in reality.

My inquisitor and Sera in Dragon Age: InquisitionInterestingly, while researching Cole, I discovered there’s a significant number of fans who also headcanon Sera as being on the spectrum. That thought had never occurred to me, but I can see the argument.

Personally, I would say that Sera is not autistic because I think her weirdness is more the result of her upbringing and mystical powers rather than any fundamental aspect of her nature. Autistic people are born odd, whereas Sera is odd because of the life she’s had. Nature versus nurture.

That said, I will say that as an autistic person I see myself in Sera far, far more than I ever did in Cole, to the point where I’ve adopted her as something of a personal hero.

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory):

The Big Bang Theory is an absolutely despicable show.

Yes, I know the writers say Sheldon isn’t autistic, but he’s certainly coded as such, and it seems to be how most people see him. And regardless of any specific diagnosis, Sheldon and the series as a whole are pretty much entirely devoted to making a mockery of people with social impairments. It’s a monument to casual cruelty and punching down; it’s blackface for the neurodivergent.

Jim Parsons as Sheldon Cooper on The Big Bang TheoryIt is not at all an exaggeration to say that Sheldon Cooper is one of the biggest reasons I’ve been afraid to tell people about my condition. I feel like he’s how people will see me, as some sad clown that’s only there to be mocked or pitied.

Now if you’re a fan of the show, you’re probably getting hackles up right now, but I will say that liking The Big Bang Theory doesn’t make you a bad person. I’ve known good people who enjoy it, and most all of us enjoy things that may have problematic elements (for me, Warcraft’s less than stellar treatment of many of its female characters comes to mind). It doesn’t necessarily reflect on you as a person. I would, however, ask that people acknowledge how hurtful and damaging stereotypes like this can be.

Now, writing for The Big Bang Theory? That probably does make you a bad person.

Gilhaelith, Ulii, and sensitives (Three Worlds Cycle):

Interestingly Ian Irvine has a number of characters in his Three Worlds books with some degree of autistic traits.

Most obvious is the mancer Gilhaelith, who fits the profile to a T (almost to the point of being too stereotypical, honestly). He’s intelligent but socially awkward, he has narrow obsessive interests, he’s a fussy eater with gut issues…

A map of the continent of Lauralin on the world of Santhenar, setting of Ian Irvine's Three Worlds novelsBut there are other examples, too. The sensory issues of Ulii — to whom a whisper is a scream and a dim light is blinding — are very reminiscent of those people on the spectrum tend to experience. For a long time I couldn’t wear jeans because the fabric was so coarse to me it felt like wearing sandpaper pants. Meanwhile the extreme emotional states and intense imaginations of sensitives like Karan also have some familiarity for people like me.

I was curious if any of this was intentional, and then I realized that in this wondrous modern age it’s easy to get an answer to such a question. I messaged Ian Irvine on Facebook to ask if any of these characters were modeled after real world autistic people.

He told me that while none of his characters are written as autistic per se, he had done some reading on autism — such as the works of Temple Grandin — due to a family member on the spectrum, and that Ulii’s issues did draw some inspiration from that. Gilhaelith, meanwhile, is inspired by many of the scientists Mr. Irvine has worked with, some of whom may have been on the spectrum.

As for how I feel about these characters… it’s hard to say. I loved them at the time, but I hadn’t been diagnosed back then, so I might feel differently now. I should probably reread those books at some point.

I don’t expect my opinion would change too much, though. Especially where Ulii is concerned. I remember her being a really excellent character.

Sentinel Brin (Anthem):

Sentinel Brin in the MMO shooter AnthemBrin is not explicitly flagged as autistic in-game (I’m not sure Bastion even has the concept), but between her social awkwardness, her confusion around humour, her need for rules and structure, and her obsessive Crimson Lancer fandom, it’s pretty obvious. Also that thing she’s always doing with her hands is definitely a stim.

Part of me feels Brin is too much of a stereotype — she’s a bit of a caricature — but she’s also fairly adorable, and the game is quite good at making clear she’s a truly good person despite her odd mannerisms, so I’ll count her as a win overall. Whatever flaws her portrayal might have, she’s still easily my favourite Anthem character and the one that really makes me wish the game had romances.

Abed Nadir (Community):

Somewhat to my own surprise, I’m mostly okay with Abed.

He’s not perfect. In contrast to Sheldon Cooper, Abed tends to go to the opposite extreme and tend towards the “autism as a blessing in disguise” narrative, which I also loathe, and on the whole he does present a fairly sugar-coated view of the condition.

But it’s a comedy. A sitcom probably isn’t the place to look for a gritty, realistic portrayal of what living with autism is like. For a mainstream sitcom character, Abed does an admirable job of poking fun at our foibles without seeming mean or disrespectful, and sometimes the portayal is spot-on. Danny Pudi really nails the mannerisms.

Danny Pudi as Abed Nadir in Community“Your faces are changing. Are you angry or hungry?”


Lana Beniko (Star Wars: The Old Republic):

Lana Beniko is by far and away the best representation of an autistic person I have seen in the media.

This is despite — or more likely because of — the fact the writers don’t seem to have actually intended to write her as an autistic character. Certainly nothing in the game flags her as such. It’s not even hinted at. Nonetheless, she possesses a remarkable number of autistic traits.

I think most striking is her stoic manner. I’m no expert on Star Wars lore, but as I understand it power in the Dark Side comes from emotion. “Through passion, I gain strength.” Therefore to be as powerful of a Sith as Lana is, she’d have to be an intensely passionate person.

But you almost never see that. Only rarely do you get fleeting glimpses of the feeling underneath. Most of the time, she seems very cold, almost robotic.

This is something that’s very true of people on the spectrum. We struggle to express our feelings in appropriate ways, so we often come across as cold or emotionless, but our inner emotional landscapes are at least as varied as the general population. Personally I’m fairly convinced we actually experience emotions more intensely than the average person.

Lana Beniko in Star Wars: The Old RepublicThere’s other things, too. She has a very stiff, formal way of speaking and writing. Following the events on Iokath, we learn that she has a very regimented daily schedule that she never deviates from. If you romance her, her feelings for the player character are clearly very intense, but at times you almost have to remind her to be affectionate.

These are all classic autistic traits.

It’s funny because I took an instant liking to Lana the moment I encountered her, but for a long time I didn’t understand why. There are plenty of more likable or entertaining characters in SWTOR, after all. Eventually I realized that it was because I saw myself reflected in her, but even then it took longer than it should have for me to grasp why I saw myself in her.

She’s like me. Fictional or not, she’s still likely the closest thing to a real peer I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t say it makes me feel less alone per se, but there is something about adventuring alongside her that is very reassuring.

The other great thing about Lana is that — perhaps because she was probably not consciously written as autistic — she isn’t stereotyped as “the autistic character.” She’s allowed to be a three-dimensional person who is not defined by her condition.

Lana is one of the main reasons I’ve stayed as loyal to SWTOR as I have, despite its many, many flaws. It’s just about the only place I can go to see someone like myself represented as something other than a shallow stereotype or a cautionary tale.

If I Told the Truth, I Would Always Be Free

From the inception, I’ve had some pretty clear rules about this blog. One is that the blog is by me, but not truly about me. For the most part I avoid talking about myself or my life save as it affects the core topics of the blog (gaming, writing, speculative fiction).

Today, I’m going to break that rule.

The following post is going to deal with some fairly serious Real Life stuff. Nothing that quite justifies a trigger warning (I hope), but definitely heavier than you’d expect from the average MMO blog. Feel free to move on, and I’ll be back to gushing about Elves and ranting how subscription games suck soon enough, I’m sure.

If you’ve been paying attention, you may have noticed me dropping hints that there’s a lot of change going on in my life the past year or so. My posting less is the most obvious affect. I’m not going to go into detail on all that’s happened, but the simple answer is I have been, for perhaps the first time in my life, truly trying to get better.

See, I’m not a well man. Officially my diagnosis reads “autism spectrum disorder” and “major depressive disorder.” These are also known as Asperger’s syndrome (although that term is no longer used by the medical community, and I never liked it anyway) and clinical depression. While it didn’t get listed on my diagnosis for some reason, I also deal with severe chronic anxiety.

It’s true that I work as a freelance writer, but it’s a part time job. I’ve been placed on permanent disability support; it’s a matter of official government record that I am not expected to ever fully recover.

I could write an entire book trying to explain all the different ways these things affect me, but even that still probably wouldn’t be adequate. If you haven’t lived it, you’re never going to fully understand it. Even I often struggle to fully comprehend what’s going on in my own head.

Nonetheless, I will try to provide a brief glimpse.

Being on the spectrum is the biggest problem, and my other issues tend to spring from the challenges autism has given me. I’m terrified by the unfamiliar — going new places, doing new things, or meeting new people is always a test of endurance.

I have sensory issues. Mine are relatively mild compared to what some autistic people deal with, but even so, spending a few hours in a noisy room surrounded by multiple conversations stresses me out to the point where I will feel miserably, physically ill for days afterward.

I have trouble reading people, and it’s extremely difficult for me to make new friends or form relationships. It’s almost as hard to maintain those relationships long term. I’ve gotten better at interacting with people on a casual level, but my attempts to make deeper, more meaningful connections still usually fail. Even if they accept me — which not all do — there’s still the divide that comes from thinking and feeling in a different way.

I’m also prone to very vivid, intense thoughts and feelings. Something I hear a lot is that autistic people are quiet on the outside but experience a “rich inner life.” Well, yeah, but when you put it like that it sounds like we have fairytale kingdoms hidden inside us. Imagine instead standing in a raging hurricane with ten thousand banshees screaming in your ears.

That’s my “rich inner life.”

Moving on to depression, it feels like there’s an entire cottage industry of people online trying to explain what depression is like, and they still never seem to get it right, especially as it is different for everyone.

I’d say it’s best described as a permanent tilting of your emotional perspective. I’m not always sad, but I am sad a lot of the time, and sometimes I’m very sad. What’s perhaps worse, though, is that it is very difficult for me to feel happy. When I do, it’s usually a dull and fleeting sensation. Often (not always, but often) when I say I enjoy something, what I really mean is that it distracted me enough that I didn’t feel bad for a while. True joy is something I experience only rarely.

That brings us to the anxiety. Star Trek: Discovery is not, in my view, a good show, but it has done one or two things very well. One of them is the character of Saru. While it’s explained as a feature of his species, he is effectively an anxiety sufferer.

There’s a speech he gave in one episode that really struck a cord for me. He said he was “born afraid,” that he had never lived a moment free of fear, and that the greatest ecstasy he could imagine was to simply not be afraid, even for a moment.

That’s my life. I was born afraid.

I do not bring any of this up to elicit pity. In truth I have less investment than you might think in what any of my readers might have to say about all this — though of course comments are as always welcome.

No, this is about me.

On the interminable road to getting better (which for me means better than I am now, but likely never “better” in the sense of having a normal life) lately I’ve been focused on the concept of self-acceptance.

This is not an idea I’ve ever had much comfort with. My own boundless self-loathing notwithstanding, I have long felt self-love or self-acceptance is a dangerous thing, little more than a synonym for selfishness.

I have encountered more than a few people in my life who use self-acceptance as a get out of jail free card or a way to dodge responsibility for their own actions. I’m terrified that if I’m not so hard on myself, I’ll hurt the people I care about.

But I’m trying to find a way to let go of at least some of that self-loathing. If you hate yourself enough for long enough, eventually you start to hate the rest of the world for allowing you to exist. It poisons everything.

I don’t want to be that person anymore.

As much as I wish it wasn’t true, the reality is I am a fairly sensitive person, and I need to embrace that part of myself.

My current counselor — the latest in a long string of professionals I’ve seen for my issues — said something really interesting to me a few weeks ago. He said that he feels guilt and regret are valuable because they’re reminders of when we have failed to live up to our own goals and values. But he feels shame is a negative, because it’s based on how others see us.

For so long, my mental health problems have been my darkest and most shameful secret. I felt like I was less than everyone else. I felt like I was a bad person because of these issues. I still feel that way, to be honest.

And I’ve been so scared of how others will see me. Especially given that there’s so much stereotyping around autism, even by the people who are trying to be kind. Everyone either thinks people on the spectrum are drooling idiots, or they think we’re Rain Man. Most of us are neither.

For the record, autism is not a blessing in disguise. It does not give me “autistic super powers” (my gods how I hate that term) or make me a misunderstood genius. In reality only about ten percent of autistic people manifest savant capabilities. For the rest of us it’s only a disability.

There is also the general stigma around mental illness. I was afraid being honest about who I am would cost me friends, or cost me work. I was afraid it would invalidate all my opinions in the eyes others.

Actually I’m still afraid of all of those things.

And to be clear, I still don’t think being autistic is a good thing. I’ve yet to find an upside to it, for myself or for anyone else.

But I’m coming to realize it doesn’t need to be the whole definition of who I am. I’m autistic, but I’m not only autistic.

I’m trying to find things that I do like about myself. It’s remarkably hard, but I’m slowly coming up with a few.

I’ll tell you one thing I like about myself: I can find beauty in almost anything. There’s a reason I go for a walk every day. Even in the heart of the city, even walking the same neighbourhoods I’ve seen a hundred times before (because it’s not like I can explore new places without it making me anxious), I almost always find something beautiful that touches me, even if it’s just a particularly vibrant flower, or the way the sun hits the leaves in summer, or the way the snow dances through the air in winter.

There’s beauty beyond the physical, too. The ache in my heart when I read a story that inspires me. The kindness my friends have shown me. The flutter in your stomach when you fall in love.

This is why I’m an environmentalist, a social justice activist, and why I refuse to ever fully give into cynicism over the future of the world. Our world is full of so much beauty. How can anyone not want to fight for that with everything that they have?

And I’m trying to let go of the shame. I want to be better, and I don’t want to hide from who I am anymore. It’s too exhausting to live with that secret, that fear.

Posting this here is a good way of crossing the Rubicon. This blog is my most public outlet. If I’m no longer in hiding here, there’s no point in hiding anywhere. There’s no turning back now.

I don’t know if I’ll talk much more about this in future. I’m not eager to turn this into a mental health blog or otherwise use my illness as a way to gain attention. There are one or two topics I’d like to discuss that are related to this, though, so we’ll see.