Barbie is autistic. Or the new model released by Mattel this week is, at least. The new toy follows the same inclusivity initiative that saw a Barbie with Type 1 diabetes – equipped with an insulin pump and a glucose monitor – released last July. The autistic model comes with noise-cancelling headphones, a fidget spinner, an augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) tablet, mobile elbow joints to reflect the way some autistic people gesticulate, and a slightly averted gaze to represent the difficulty they can experience making eye contact.
To no one’s surprise, the figure sparked animated discussion online. Some detractors bemoaned that the doll encouraged a stereotypical image of autism and did not reflect their own experience. Dr Jess Taylor wrote that the doll was “aesthetic labelling. Autism reduced to a single, sanitised visual cue that has become popularised through social media stereotypes.” Neurodiversity activist Laura Elizabeth Ann said the design implied that “autism has a look”.
Enthusiasts saw the release as a leap forward for the autistic community. I’m a speaking, low-support needs autistic, so I don’t use an AAC device. But given that about a quarter of autistics are minimally verbal, it the device seems a reasonable inclusion to me. Nor am I offended by the stimming tools or the headphones – they are common tools used by autistic people to help deal with sensory difficulties that are part of the disability. I can appreciate the kneejerk defence against representation that may feel based on preconceptions, but we should be wary of getting caught in a crossfire of outrage, and the lives we may dismiss in the process.
Autistic Barbie may not reflect every single autistic person, but it does reflect many of those in the community. Hoping to encapsulate the entire autistic experience in a single doll is a tall order, in the same way that capturing a large facet of human experience can be difficult for any single piece of media.
But I know why people got so furious. The outrage said a lot less about the children’s doll and a lot more about the state of autism care in British politics. Lots of autistics feel nervous about recognition and validation lately. In March last year, the Health Secretary Wes Streeting told Laura Kuenssberg that mental health overdiagnosis meant “too many people being written off”. In December, Streeting wrote in the Guardian that his comments had “failed to capture the complexity of the problem” as he announced that he had ordered a review into overdiagnosis.
The order alarmed mental health commentators. Some were suspicious about the timing; the announcement came soon after Keir Starmer declared his new intention to reform welfare. Micha Frazer-Carroll, author of Mad World: The Politics of Mental Health, suggested that the review would be used to justify more cuts and more austerity. Frazer-Carroll wrote: “When politicians attack ‘overdiagnosis’, we must reframe the problem as one of a society that disables so many people, then punishes them for their distress.” Robert Chapman, author of the Neurodiversity and Capitalism newsletter, wrote that the review represented “a new development of health fascism”.
This was the furious pitch of dispute into which autistic Barbie was released. It is not the job of a doll, or of any other consumer product, to soothe the angst of disabled people left in the lurch about their future while the government’s review is pending, or to provide autistic people with the support they need in order to participate in, and live happily and safely within, society. That job belongs to Wes Streeting.
Or to whoever might replace him. While offering no clear rebuttal to claims of overdiagnosis, Andy Burnham has warned that cuts to the current disability benefits system would “trap too many people in poverty”. The attitudes of rival parties offer far more terrifying prospects. In a press conference, Nigel Farage has walked a similar line to Streeting, declaring that “massively overdiagnosing” children with Send and mental health conditions was “creating a class of victims in Britain that will struggle ever to get out of it”. He also proved to be misinformed about the process of diagnosis itself, claiming that these conditions were being diagnosed “on zoom, with the family GP”.
Misinformation on the topic is not limited solely to Reform, however. Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch faced backlash from parents of autistic children after the party’s pamphlet claimed that a diagnosis like autism offered “economic advantages and privileges”, a statement refuted by the National Autistic Society.
Improving life for autistic people, it seems, will take a lot more than a doll. While debate rages over “overdiagnosis” and representation, more pressing concerns might include addressing the ongoing crisis for autism assessments, a deteriorating Send system despite public campaigns, failures to reduce the number of autistic people and people with a learning disability who remain institutionalised, or the continued battles over misinformation around autism. Autistic children deserve a world that accommodates them as effectively as Mattel’s new box – and that is a job no toy can do.
[Further reading: Bald men are the antidote to Grok’s filth]
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