On Sia’s “Music” and the importance of accurate representation
By: Sophie Papp
Tags: Autism, Ableism, Sia, Representation, Maddie Ziegler

Sia and Ziegler.

On November 20th, Sia announced her new film Music. Music stars the non-autistic performer Maddie Ziegler and tells the story of a nonverbal autistic woman. Met with excitement and a positive response from news outlets and fans alike, Music was a self-proclaimed “love letter to caregivers and to the autism community” that set out to represent those with higher support needs. So if the film’s mission was to positively showcase autistic people, why are autism activists calling for it to be axed?

Autism representation in the media tends to fall into two subgroups: the white savant whose social awkwardness is the butt of the joke, and the non-speaking white person whose autism is portrayed as a burden on themself and their caregivers. The protagonist of Music (whose name is also Music) falls into the second group, and this is why the film has received so much backlash. No matter how many times Sia states that her intention was love, Music is yet another contribution to a long line of television shows and films that harm the very people they swear to protect.

For the longest time, I did not believe that I could be autistic because I did not act like the autistic characters I saw in film and on television. As a queer AFAB person, I did not see myself in the eyes of Sheldon Cooper and Ray Babbitt. I believed that because I did not exactly mimic the few autistic characters I saw, there was no possibility that I was autistic myself. I did not realize until much later that this rigid thinking is, in fact, a result of my autism. It took me over a decade to be honest about my differences, both with myself and those around me. All throughout elementary and middle school I mimicked the behaviors of the popular girls in the books I read, trying in vain to blend in with my classmates. I spent exorbitant amounts of money on makeup and clothes, wishing with each purchase that I would finally gain the approval of the neurotypical popular crowd at my school. It wasn’t until I made neurodivergent friends later in life that I began to realize I might be autistic.

In the years leading up to and the months after my autism diagnosis, I have done hours of research on autism, developmental disabilities, and neurodiversity as a whole. The most painful part of it was realizing that all of the pain, shame, and rejection I experienced when I was young could have been avoided. Ultimately, the reason that I did not receive the support I needed until I was a teenager was because I was not a cookie-cutter autistic. This is exactly why Music is harmful: the negative stereotypes that it perpetuates warp people’s perception of what autism is, leaving those who do not check every single one of the DSM-V’s boxes alone to fend for themselves.

Much like storms, no two autistic people are alike. When you’ve met one person on the spectrum, you’ve met one person on the spectrum: each autistic person has varying degrees of support needs in a wide range of areas. While most autistic characters on television and in film fit into the Rain Man Stereotype, most autistic people in real life are not amazing at math or able to count cards. It is estimated that only 1 in 10 to 1 in 200 autistic people are savants. However, Rain Man’s ripple effect has led many people to believe the opposite. I have been questioned about my “special skill” multiple times upon disclosing my autism diagnosis, and the mere mention of Atypical or The Good Doctor are enough to make me want to end a conversation altogether. Though films like Rain Man are advertised as beacons of representation for the autistic community, in real life, they only contribute to the mischaracterization of autistic people.

This is exactly why stories about autism, told by autistics, are so important. The most accurate representation comes when we create it ourselves. Stories told by autistic people about autistic people are not just compelling, they are a revolutionary political act. To declare your presence and demand a seat at the table shows strength, courage, and a willingness to take risks.

It is easy to feel like your story doesn’t deserve to be told. It is easy to feel like the pros of taking a leap may not outweigh the cons. The challenge comes in trusting yourself enough to be willing to put yourself out there. But with every risk you take, you make things a little better. There are multiple success stories about autistic people doing jobs they have been told they can’t do. Take, for example, actor Mickey Rowe, the first autistic actor to play Christopher Boone in the play The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. Despite facing ableism from those around him, he went on to not only receive praise for his performance but also to inspire other theaters to cast disabled actors in their own productions of Curious Incident. Whenever you make yourself visible, it has a positive ripple effect, even if you might not be able to see it at first.

To those reading this that are autistic or disabled or neurodivergent in any way: ultimately, what Sia says does not matter to you. Music is exactly the reason why your voice needs to be heard. You deserve to tell your story. Disabled people are not just quirky side characters or comic relief. We are valuable and we are brilliant and we deserve to shine.