Watching the season two finale of Freeform’s Everything’s Gonna Be Okay, I found myself getting emotional. In it the central couple Matilda (Kayla Cromer) and Drea (Lillian Carrier) are getting married, having this cute little wedding with a supportive family looking on, cheering during those typical moments. As is the case with most TV show marriages, it’s the culmination of a story, reflecting a deeper bond of a relationship that the audience has come to empathize with. If they do it right, they would be like me, feeling warm inside and wanting nothing but the best for the newlyweds.
To be honest, Everything’s Gonna Be Okay has had plenty of these moments over the past two seasons. It isn’t necessarily because they are telling the most radical stories, pushing Game of Thrones-style boundaries that reinvent the very medium. What they’re doing is much quieter though I’d argue more important. In a time where many are arguing about how representation matters, creator Josh Thomas has created a series that is downright groundbreaking. With this episode, he has depicted the first actually autistic couple in TV history not only to marry each other but to be played by neurodivergent actors. The best part? There’s way, way more to their character.
But before I get into that, I want to provide some context…
In 2019, I began self-identifying as autistic. Like most people, the early days are such an overwhelming experience. At times you are confused, doubting yourself. Other times you are remorseful, feeling damaged for “thinking differently” and not believing that it’s okay to call it a disability. Then, after a while, acceptance and maybe even pride will emerge. It took almost a year and a half for me to feel comfortable talking about it publically, in part because I didn’t fully understand how to discuss it, what terms were considered off-limits or harmful. It’s also just because the media has a bad track record when talking about neurodivergence.
Unless you have a Ph.D. in media studies, you won’t understand why Everything’s Gonna Be Okay is radical for the autism community. In the two years of looking at representation, I have had enough time to notice the archetypes well. As A. S.imple D.ate’s Rebecca Faith Quinn points out in her TikTok series, she believes that most autistic characters lack so much agency that they can be traded out with dogs. If they’re not savants, they’re sexless, emotionless, and designed to provide inspiration for able-bodied protagonists. If they can overcome their condition, then imagine what a recovering drug addict can do just by going cold turkey.
To general audiences, the patronizing doesn’t seem all that offensive. Some of the seams may even be invisible, especially in the case of neurotypical actors taking on the roles and assuming instincts that come more naturally to neurodivergent actors. The “Nothing About Us Without Us” movement pushes for autistic stories by autistic creators not only in hopes of reflecting authenticity but to provide more opportunities for the community. It is why “actually autistic” actors are deemed important, making even the best-intentioned films (including Please Stand By (2017) which I really liked) feel like they’re missing the mark.
Like every marginalized group that isn’t properly reflected by the community, there are constant concerns that their stories are being ignored. It is true that people have enjoyed shows with autistic characters, most recently with Atypical and The Good Doctor, but they were clearly designed by neurotypical creators, more defined by the stereotypes and otherness that media has suggested. When this is all you know, it doesn’t seem all that problematic. They don’t see the issues with characters like Sheldon Cooper on The Big Bang Theory and instead just accept him as this quirky, lovable nerd. The issue is more that these lead to stereotypes of EVERY autistic character in mainstream media having to fit into these boxes (which yes, includes white, male, and infantile) instead of fully embracing the spectrum.
As someone on the spectrum, I was able to be more critical without fully understanding what the big deal was. When I watched the great short Loop (2020), I found it powerful because of how authentic it was. I wasn’t as centered on issues regarding making disability the whole identity, which may be reflective of the idea that nobody told me otherwise. By the time that the notorious controversy around Sia’s Music (2021) came around, the discourse was opening up. Nothing About Us Without Us was out leading the charge, encouraging audiences to seek better representation. In some respects, I found it, though once again they felt like supporting roles to someone else’s journey. While The Blue Ranger in Power Rangers (2017) is three-dimensional and openly identifies as autistic, he’s part of a team. A useful member, but still.
Media representation matters because it helps create more confidence around certain narratives. Like the power to change vernacular or push forward fashion, I believe that the right stories can influence how certain subjects are discussed. For autistics, they’ve lived in the shadow of Rain Man (1988) for over 30 years. If anything, there’s been a constant need for co-dependency in the story, suggesting that they need to be nurtured. It’s true that some need more support needs than others, but it’s a limiting view. Once you spend time on YouTube, TikTok, or Twitter interacting with neurodivergent individuals, you’ll learn that their inner lives are much more complex and have been let down by the media. Whereas subjects like race relations and gay rights have advanced significantly since 1988, neurodivergence still feels trapped in the time of Rain Man (mentally, racially, and anatomically). What is an autistic person but someone to play a hero towards?
In a lot of respects, Everything’s Gonna Be Okay is not designed as an exemplary show. It’s not exactly telling stories that haven’t been told before. Many shows feature some form of a nuclear family trying to tolerate living with each other. There’s been those stories of high school crushes and dealing with finding your own identity. The show is quaint and even familiar. However, if you go in with a recognition of what autism representation in media looks like, then suddenly the magic of Thomas’ series begins to shine through.
If you’re smart, there will be an initial reluctance to admire Matilda as a character. This is through no fault of her own, but from years of poorly written Capital-A Autistic characters who are solely defined by one thing. Throughout the pilot, there are several points where she hits those stereotypes well. In several scenes she declares that she has autism, wearing noise-canceling headphones and not picking up social cues. There is nothing wrong with this, but at times the writing feels a bit too foreboding as if it’s appealing strictly to neurotypical audiences. I’m happy to say that she fits so many of the traits well and I wouldn’t doubt that they’re authentic to Cromer’s personal life, but the trick was seeing if the show could move beyond a good introduction and build deeper empathy.
Cromer also has the distinctive achievement of being one of the first openly autistic actors to lead a series (and one of the rarer female autistic actors to be represented). To watch her evolve throughout the show is an incredibly assuring thing. She is so much more than a disability. Is it part of her identity? Yes. Very much so. Every episode has a handful of moments where you realize that she sees the world differently. The major difference is that where other shows would treat this as a cataclysmic event, Matilda’s family and friends are understanding, helping her when necessary while also ribbing her in others. She is, surprise surprise, first and foremost human.
As our entry point into autism representation on the show, Matilda carries a lot of weight. For most people, to watch certain clips out of context is to not even notice her autism. She doesn’t have the stereotypical affectations nor is her stimming exaggerated in a performative way. She is natural, getting into trouble and even once being adorably drunk with her brother/caretaker Nicholas (Thomas). It’s to the show’s credit that certain moments are underscored by her differences more as brief misunderstandings. Not everything needs to be a neurotypical character frustratingly trying to rewire her brain. She’s just autistic and that’s fine.
One of the more touching moments came at the end of season one when Matilda gets accepted into Yale University. Given that she’s routine-oriented, her family flies her to New York and helps her adjust to things like taking the subway and dealing with vendors. The routine is repetitive, even featuring her unnecessarily buying subway tickets just to become comfortable with the process. Sure the audience sees the annoyance of her family in these scenes, but there is also love and acceptance. They ultimately know it will help Matilda, even if there’s doubt that she could ever truly be independent.
By the episode’s end, Matilda comes to the sad realization that she doesn’t feel comfortable living on her own. It’s a common struggle among autistic individuals and one that continues to be expanded on with Matilda’s girlfriend Drea. She is seen having a breakdown following an unfulfilling (and short-lived) break-up. While there’s humor in these moments, they’re played sincerely and allow for a certain empathy that’s rarely been allowed. Matilda giving up going to Yale is tragic but understandable. Drea panicking as her parents drive her away is natural. None of this is treated as repulsive or wrong. In some ways the simple act of having supporting characters, like the more neurotypical Genevieve (Maeve Press), there to show how to handle the situation allows for something more honest to be explored. Autistic people sometimes have their limitations mentally, but it shouldn’t make you think less of them. If anything, it’s helping to normalize interpersonal relationships in ways that have been poorly depicted in the past.
Another way that the series feels groundbreaking is how three-dimensional Matilda is outside of intellect. Yes, she is smart and achieves many great things throughout the series. However, she is treated realistically as a teenage girl who has certain hormonal desires. Given how sexless neurodivergence is treated in media, a sincere look into Matilda's wanting to have sex is a major step. Even if there’s stigma from her sex partner regarding Matilda’s autism, she still has her own agency. She is allowed to have lustful desires and even openly discusses buying Genevieve condoms (albeit in very irrational and ridiculous ways). She does everything that a normal girl her age would do regarding exploring her sexuality, and it amazing how normally it is treated.
Sure, there is a brief subplot regarding Matilda’s initial hook-up. When she’s called into the principal’s office, there is concern that she was taken advantage of. The whole scene plays as commentary on the infantilization of autistic people, serving as one of the first genuinely triumphant moments in the show where she declares that she did it willingly of her own agency. Given that she will go on to have multiple partners in the episodes to follow, Matilda doesn’t feel limited in ways that media has suggested she should. Just like she can be stubborn and annoying sometimes, she’s just as validated to try and enjoy all that life has to offer.
Despite Matilda being the poster child for the series’ autism representation, the show actually has many more high marks to consider. For starters, Thomas announced that he was autistic at 33 this past April, itself a plot point that was written into season two. This exploration of late in life diagnosis is another taboo that deserves to be explored and I’m excited that the show took the first steps. Nicholas’ general reluctance to accept the news feels all too familiar to me, and the conversations around accepting it are takes that I hope they more embrace. While I’m not fully a fan of how the show handled it (self-identification is acceptable since testing costs can be high, also Matilda pressuring him to share with others seems a little aggressive), it only shows how things can evolve going forward. Also, this gives the show an even rarer achievement: an autistic story told by autistic artists. It’s a win all around!
What makes it more incredible is how with just these two characters, the show is already depicting autism as appearing differently in different people. Whereas most depictions are limited to one stereotype, this is pushing boundaries not ever seen before, featuring a more neurotic take in Nicholas and a more didactic one in Matilda. Drea is even more introverted, sometimes fretting over what texture of clothes can touch her skin. Also, given that all of them identify as LGBTQIA+, it shows an even more complicated vision of neurodivergence than what is generally allowed in media. Nicholas is allowed to be gay while Matilda’s relationship with Drea makes for something even more revolutionary and unheard of in depiction.
When discussing the choice to make Drea asexual, Thomas suggested that his relative was asexual and felt there needed to be a fairer representation. Research suggested that it often overlapped with the autism community. The issue was keeping it from being a stereotype, where asexuality just meant that these characters were infantile and sexless. Luckily thanks to Matilda’s own journey in season one, the audience could already determine that she wasn’t asexual and thus opened room on the spectrum. As of this publication, Everything’s Gonna Be Okay is also the only live-action series in 2021 to feature an asexual character.
There are many reasons why this is a big deal. The most prominent one that hits me the hardest is that this is one of the few actually autistic couples on TV. Rarely has there been an example of TWO autistic characters in a series, let alone in a shared relationship. They are allowed to feel romantic, making the same mistakes that neurotypical characters do. Rarely is this better depicted than in the episode “Regal Jumping Spider” where they spend an evening together in a log cabin to test their co-dependability. There’s familiar bickering and arguments, even forgetting to bring in their overnight bags (a side effect of executive dysfunction), but they’re still able to live together. It’s amazing because this is one of the few times that autistic characters in media have been seen able not only to live together, but survive and overcome petty squabbles. They are not hopeless even if they’re making some very blatant mistakes.
Carrier, who was also an autistic consultant on the show, feels groundbreaking because of how the show sets up Drea's dynamic. Asexual representation has come a long way since that House episode where he cured a couple, though it still remains underseen especially in live action and in a capacity that is more than a stereotype. There is nothing wrong with Drea and in fact, Matilda is able to pursue lustful desires consensually without breaking up the couple. The asexuality isn’t something that’s lingered on, only discussed to give the audience a better understanding. If nothing else, it breaks from the tradition of coded asexuality in autistic characters by again allowing dimensions rarely seen – notably that Drea is loved and expresses her affection in other meaningful ways. This isn’t a convenient overwrite. It is genuinely written into her character.
Like most wedding arcs, the season finale is met with various hurdles and arguments before the big triumphant moment. By the end, it’s endearing and creates something so affirming that you wish this representation existed in other media. Here, for the first time was something much more powerful than two brides being wed. It was a moment that validated the idea not only that autistic people could fall in love, but that they could get married. It’s also the idea that asexuals are capable of marriage to a partner that loves them greatly. With those few minutes, so many taboos were broken and thus showed how wrong modern TV has been about autism. They can do so much better.
The real shame is that the season had to come to an end so soon. It is understandable given how programming works, but it feels like a wasteland to find another neurodivergent story as rich as this one. Where else can autism be explored in relation to personal identity, allowing everything to feel normalized and not a big deal? Yes, Matilda is autistic and proud of it. Yes, she carries the show in a greater direction. Thankfully the choice to include Nicholas and Drea by other actually autistic actors has a far greater impact, showing how diverse the experience truly is. They have rich inner lives and personalities. You come to care for their everyday challenges, and not all cognitive-based. This isn’t a fantasy. They are genuinely normal.
For some time, it’s been difficult to fully provide a suggestion to others of what great autistic representation in media is. Sure, I could point to examples that get the broad strokes right, but it wasn’t until Everything’s Gonna Be Okay that I noticed how much richer these stories could be, how they could be more expansive and humanizing. They may be disabled, but it’s not the only thing that defines their lives. They have so much more going on, and it does plenty to hopefully change the narrative. One can hope the show continues to pick up steam, attracting new fans in the off-season. I really think that the show deserves it, if just to help those who struggle with their identity to recognize that it’s not wrong. You are validated to feel this way and live a normal-ish life. The sooner that everyone else picks up on that, the sooner things can hope to get better.
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