WhenIwas diagnosed with autism at 27, it felt like the final puzzle piece finally clicked into place. I always had an underlying sense that I experienced the world differently from the people around me. But throughout my life, I rarely saw representations of autistic characters anywhere, and certainly didn’t possess the language to express the feelings I had been living with.
It was not until I was a disability authenticity consultant for the character of Lavender — a lovable purple koala who is autistic and loves to bird watch — for “Blue’s Clues & You!” that I realized how impactful it would have been if I had watched a character like her growing up. And while representation is important, it doesn’t carry as much weight without lived experience behind it.
Also Read: I Went To My Son’s Class To Explain How He Goes To The Bathroom. Here’s Why.
Two years on from my diagnosis, my exploration of my identity was still shaped by all of the resources I was able to get my hands on and the advocates, creators, a neurodiversity-affirming therapist, and a life coach who helped me navigate an entirely new life. They helped me realize that I had a story to tell, and there were creative spaces where it was all too needed. I started exploring fellowships for disabled people where, suddenly, doors in creative, media and entertainment spaces opened for me.
I first had the opportunity to join “Blue’s Clues & You!” — the 2019 revival of the original show — as a disability authenticity consultant through my fellowship with Disability Belongs, then as a freelance consultant. When I joined the “Blue’s Clues” team, I reviewed scripts, storyboards, sketches and animations for multiple episodes.
During one review of a scene involving the “Blue’s Clues” characters assembling a tent, I noticed how Lavender’s facial expressions stayed static as she worked through the steps. As an autistic person, I know how often my own expressions are interpreted differently from neurotypical norms. But I also know that in a moment like that, I might have felt frustrated by the pieces not fitting, overwhelmed by the noise, or distracted by my friends’ chatter. That subtle disconnect between expression and tactical task stood out immediately to me because of my lived experiences.
Moments like this are exactly why I believe film and television productions should make greater efforts not only to staff their production teams with disabled or autistic consultants, but also to hire more autistic and disabled writers and on-screen talent. Authentic representation isn’t just about the big, sweeping plot points. It’s also built into the small details that only someone with a disability can truly recognize and describe.
Related: Introducing Voices of Disabled People
When there isn’t enough representation in the stories children grow up with, we lose one of the most powerful tools we have for normalizing and fostering genuine inclusion. More than 70 million adults in the U.S. — about 15% of the population who report living with a disability — grew up without their own version of a character like Lavender the koala, and that absence matters.
We need far more disabled characters on screen, and we need portrayals that are accurate and multidimensional. Otherwise, we risk widening the gap between the positive
Before I started shaping Lavender’s character, I never dreamed I’d be able to help create characters on screen who embodied my identity. For disabled people, seeing ourselves reflected on TV shows or films, especially when we’re adults, can be profoundly healing. Growing up as an autistic Asian American with glaucoma, there were many aspects of my life that were shrouded in a type of cultural silence. Helping shape characters like Lavender makes me feel hopeful that the kids watching “Blue’s Clues & You!” won’t have that same experience, and will instead have a face, name, or character to put to the characteristics that make them who they are.
Experts have also found that creating more authentic disability representation in children’s media can improve both disabled people’s self-esteem and the interactions that non-disabled people have with people with disabilities. From the time that we’re young, our brains are constantly collecting all types of information about the world around us. Studies have consistently shown that children’s shows such as Sesame Street can positively influence children’s perceptions of the world, including reducing prejudice, and can even shape how children who consume this type of media vote as adults.
But with some assessments estimating that only 3.9% of characters on TV have a disability, we’re hard-pressed to find opportunities for both disabled people and non-disabled communities to learn about the full spectrum of human experiences.
In creating more inclusive media, we can change that. We can reclaim our power to create authentic representation so that young people grow up with stories that show them they belong. But studio executives and production companies need to hire more autistic and disabled people, not just to weigh in on these stories, but to have an active role in shaping them. Disabled people are not sidekicks.
We’re the main characters in our own narrative, and in developing stories that center the intersections of our lives, we should play a key role. It’s the only way to ensure those stories are told with the depth, accuracy, and dignity that we, and future generations of the disabled community, deserve.
