Good riddance to the good doctor

A few years ago, a friend of a friend stated that he wanted to ask me about The Good Doctor. He recently discovered that I was an autistic culture writer and was eager to hear my feelings about the hit ABC medical drama’s fictional portrayal of a promising young surgeon on the spectrum.

I gave him what had become my standard response at that point in the show’s existence: I found it competent, if not to my taste, as a primetime drama, but frustrating as a portrayal of an autistic human being. Without openly autistic people in the writers’ room or cast, the show in general and the character of Dr. Shaun Murphy (Freddie Highmore) in particular struck me as more of an amalgamation of non-autistic people’s misconceptions, fears, and fantasies about autism. than a subtle exploration of what it’s really like to be someone like me. I added that it was alienating to see so many people worshiping autistic characters like Dr. Murphy or autistic characters coded as O Big Bang TheorySheldon Cooper, while showing far less enthusiasm for his real-life counterparts or the stories we wanted to share with the world.

He then informed me that it was actually a good program because it taught him about autism and made him more empathetic towards autistic people and our struggles.

As The Good Doctor, what was the new highest-rated program of the 2017-2018 season and remained in the top 30 for most of its run, ending this week after seven seasons, I can’t think of a better illustration of how a show that purported to explore the complex humanity of its titular character often treated flesh-and-blood autistic people they are little more than accessories on all levels. The writers, producers David Shore and Liz Friedman, and Highmore had the creative freedom to create and inhabit a character who was significantly different from themselves, without any of the challenges involved in actually living as him — or any obvious concerns about how those of us who those who do can receive their efforts. Even their autism consultant wasn’t autistic. Other non-autistic people were able to watch their caricatured results for entertainment and supposed education, pat themselves on the back for their open-mindedness, and occasionally lecture autistic people about their new and improved autism awareness.

Even the backlash that erupted briefly last year when a a particularly egregious clip of Shaun having an autistic meltdown circulated on social media was largely made by and for non-autistic people, and a refreshing and thoughtful article with quotes from numerous autistic experts in medicine, advocacy, and culture in Washington Publish. I found the line between the people who claimed to be mocking The Good DoctorThe portrayal of certain autistic traits and those who went out of their way to mock them was confusing at best, but non-autistic people were very quick to inform me that they were definitely laughing at me, not at me.

Throughout its first six seasons The Good Doctor failed autistic people by portraying Shaun as yet another hodgepodge of autistic stereotypes — a “cardboard cutout of what people believe an autistic person should be like,” as activist Lydia Brown put it in the aforementioned Washington Publish article – than a fully realized character. Dr. Murphy often behaved in ways that did not reflect who autistic people are and how we interact with the world. In a particularly egregious example, Shaun demonstrated a level of ignorance and transphobia towards a patient that the program appeared to be related to his autism. Given that trans and non-binary people are up to six times more likely to be autistic, your answer didn’t make sense. An autistic person in her position would have at least some familiarity with trans people.

The series showed some hope of improving its autistic credibility in its final season when it brought in an autistic actress, Kayla Cromer, as Charlie Lukaitis, an autistic medical student who was inspired by Shaun. This was not only a welcome step toward genuine inclusion of autistic people in the show’s creative process, but it was also an opportunity to expand its exploration of autism in general. In theory, having more than one regular autistic character around could have granted the writers more freedom to explore the diversity of the autistic experience. Unfortunately, this potential remained largely unrealized.

Shaun and Charlie fight frequently in the first few episodes, but there are also a few moments where Charlie is able to understand his autistic colleague and help him. The mix of conflict and support shed much-needed light on the fact that autistic people are individuals who are capable of conflict and also of reaching a level that no one else can. But for every moment that offers insight into the complex humanity of autistic people, there is another that reflects little more than the misconceptions and prejudices of non-autistic people.

I have absolutely no idea, for example, what everyone involved thought they were getting out of the scene in which Charlie favorably compares supporting autistic children at school to gastric surgery for a teenager. The AB storyline that addresses Shaun’s desire to test his son for autism in an episode titled “The Overview Effect” has more in common with the fears I’ve seen expressed by non-autistic parents than with the much more complicated mix of emotions that I’ve seen autistic parents—who often have their own thorny relationship with assessments and interventions and aren’t sure which ones might actually benefit their children—deal with a dearth of opportunities. and the superficial scenes were deeply disappointing. Much like Shaun’s response to his mentor and father figure’s terminal cancer diagnosis at the end, it was realistic to see him try to channel his grief into his work, but I wish we had been given a chance. glimpsing the emotions that a real-life autistic person would have struggled to process in a period of time that made sense to anyone else around them. Autistic grief is painfully misunderstood, and this could have been an incredible opportunity to delve into this issue for educational purposes. and dramatic purposes.

By the time the finale, “Goodbye,” concluded with a TED talk in which Shaun discusses living with and treating autism while the audience smiles at him with the same expressions they would use at a dog who has learned a particularly clever trick, the best. thing I could say about The Good Doctor It was finally over. Its conclusion – along with Big Bang Theoryspin off Young Sheldon, which drew nearly 9 million viewers for its finale—marks the end of a phase in which successful and widely loved TV shows treated their autistic or autistic peopleish characters as objects to be played with and consumed by non-autistic people.

I’m cautiously optimistic about what might come next. While there are no promising big autistic-centric North American network shows debuting in the immediate future, there are a handful of broadcast options that give me hope. Autistic actress Chloé Hayden’s portrayal of a queer autistic student in the Australian series Loud disgustavailable on Netflix, it is considered one of the best autistic characters so far by several of my fellow autistic writers. The Irish/British/Canadian/American family drama, A kind of spark, Based on the book of the same name by author Elle McNicoll, it offers viewers an insight into the lives of its autistic characters and the imagination of their autistic creator. Dinosaur, a Scottish comedy-drama starring its autistic co-creator Ashley Storrie and currently streaming on Hulu, is both heartfelt and proof that autistic people are perfectly capable of laughing at ourselves when the jokes are funny. As great as these shows are, they’re just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the kind of autistic stories that can and should be told on screen.

With a current prevalence of 1 in 36, autistic people are a large and mostly untapped audience – and potentially a significant talent pool if we have access to the right resources and connections. We are also a much more diverse population than pop culture has presented thus far. There are autistic people of all races, genders, sexualities and classes. There are also autistic people interested in different genres, subcultures and artistic mediums. There are many different perspectives and ideas that can provide excellent visualization in the future.

For seven seasons, millions of viewers were willing to open their hearts and minds to the idea that an autistic man could be a good doctor. Maybe they could reserve some of that space for the idea that we can be writers, actors, consultants and viewers who also want to see a piece of ourselves on TV.