When do headcanons become representation? When is representation considered legitimate? These are questions I find myself asking when doing personal media analysis, recently of HBO’s The Pitt and Heated Rivalry. Both shows have been praised for their care and attention to detail–although in different ways. Showrunners Jacob Tierney and Noah Wyle both prioritize accuracy in the worlds they represent, whether adapting a beloved sports-novel series or portraying real-life jobs.
Both shows have been praised for their portrayals of neurodivergent characters, specifically Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Dr. Melissa King (Taylor Dearden). Hollander and King both display difficulty with social cues and dynamics, as well as high and intense empathy–both things I, as an autistic adult, experience. When watching these shows, I immediately found myself drawn to these characters and understanding their experiences better than the rest of the ensemble. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that neither of these characters were originally intended to be autistic.
Admittedly, for Heated Rivalry, while Rachel Reid the author of the original book did not intentionally write an autistic character, Jacob Tierney and Hudson Williams did. Williams, who has ADHD himself, has stated that his portrayal of Shane in social settings is inspired by his father, who is autistic. The Pitt, however, is an interesting case. While Dr. King does have ties to and an understanding of neurodivergence, with her sister, Becca, being written as a high-needs autistic adult, it is unclear whether Wyle intended for King herself to be read as autistic. Dearden states in a Pop Culture Unplugged interview that she is playing King as having a “… less masked version of [her] anxiety.”
While these revelations shocked me, they did not disappoint me. As someone diagnosed later in life, I’ve gotten used to relating to characters who are simply “odd” or otherwise outcast for one reason or another. It’s not an exclusively autistic experience to feel othered, of course, but there is a unique sensation for high-functioning, masking, autistic individuals.
What did, however, shock me was going online and seeing people discuss how “refreshing” it is to see autistic characters like Shane or Dr. King. I found myself thinking, “But they’re not meant to be autistic? How is this representation?” For me, representation is something explicit and intentional. A story or character does not have to revolve around any specific identity, but I would not, for example, claim a character as a form of Mexican representation if they were not explicitly Mexican. The more I dug, the more I realized that what people considered “good” representation was just what they deemed palatable.
In season one of Heated Rivalry, we do not see Shane or anyone else discuss his autism. His habits and routines are noted, such as his folding clothes during hookups or his insistence on ginger ale as his drink of choice, but they are never explicitly attributed to anything psychological. Instead, he is called boring. He is considered a shy, straight-edge introvert, which, yes, those are facts about him. But he is considered just a shy, boring, straight-edge introvert. The intent from Tierney and Williams is there, which I appreciate and look forward to seeing in future seasons, but I have a hard time accepting Shane as “good” representation when it can just as easily be denied as being a “square”.
So far, halfway through season two of The Pitt, it is almost like Dr. King is explicitly not autistic. When working with and relating to an autistic patient, King reveals to Dr. Langdon that her skill and understanding come from working with her sister, not from any lived experience. King herself has a hard time creating and maintaining typical relationships with her peers, an experience almost all autistic individuals can relate to, and has extremely high empathy. While I hold out hope that in later episodes, the possibility of King’s autism is explored more, I am not expecting it. I am fine just relating to her, as an autistic adult, without calling an explicitly not-autistic character autistic representation.
It is interesting watching people, both autistic and not, cling to these characters for representation while simultaneously shunning explicitly autistic characters like Shaun Murphy from The Good Doctor or even Rick Sanchez from Rick & Morty. The biggest difference between Shane and Dr. King from these characters, I think, is that they are palatable. Their tone and speed of speaking are typical, even expected. They’re not difficult to read or understand, nor are they monotonous, like Shaun Murphy can be. Characters like Dr. Murphy are explicitly autistic in all the unsavory ways–the meltdowns, the isolating feeling when you can’t catch on to social cues, the almost insincere tone. It’s not as fun or endearing when people are inconveniently autistic. It’s easier when someone is palpably autistic.
People want kind characters. People turn on a TV show for escapism, and it’s hard to find relief when a character is “hard to handle.” So, naturally, the buzz and encouragement surround characters who are kind, attractive, and palatable. I absolutely think we need more autistic characters in media with high, almost excessive, empathy who can “blend in” more. I think we need more characters like me and the hundreds of adult-diagnosed autistics, but I also think we should rethink how we view the “cringy” or annoying autistic characters.
After all, autism is a spectrum, and no one person represents it all.