I recently suggested to my mom that we watch a reality show called Love on the Spectrum, which follows the love lives of people on the autism spectrum. After watching a few episodes, we both felt like something was wrong with the show.
My mom is a special needs teacher who’s been working with autistic children for decades. She knows more than most people about the struggles of being autistic in a neurotypical world. I thought she’d like to see a positive representation of autism.
We watched the first few episodes of Season 1. We both enjoyed it. But we also agreed that something about how the show represented autism felt off. It made me wonder if it might be wrong to watch Love on the Spectrum.
The Spectacle of Autism
Despite myself, I enjoy Love on the Spectrum. It’s charming and fun—but like every reality TV show, it turns its cast into a series of spectacles.
A lot of the joy of watching the show is laughing at the quirky, odd things that the autistic cast does. The spectacle of Love on the Spectrum is autism itself.
In order to present that spectacle, the show leans into autistic stereotypes. For example, in the first episode of Season 2, Connor Tomilson goes to a speed dating event for neurodivergent people.
When he asks one of his dates if she likes nature, she says she’s more of a city person. He’s visibly disappointed. So he puts an X in the “No” section of his speed dating card corresponding to her name—and she watches him do so.
When his date leaves, an off-camera producer asks Connor if he’s filling out his dating card while his dates are sitting at the table. Connor responds, “Am I not supposed to?”
To a neurotypical audience like me, these moments of misunderstanding or misreading are funny and wholesome. But neurodivergent people like Connor aren’t in on the joke—they are the joke.
Another example of this spectacle-making is Kaelynn Partlow, a cast member from Season 1. As she’s expressed on social media and in her book, The Life on the Bridge, she both understands neurotypical expectations and embraces her own autistic identity. She lives on a bridge between two worlds.
Kaelynn doesn’t conform to the stereotypical expectations of an autistic person. If she didn’t tell people she was autistic, they wouldn’t know.
Because of that, she’s not as interesting to watch. So when she applied to be on the third season, the producers refused her, even though several cast members from Season 1 who better conformed to autistic stereotypes did return.
The priority of the Love on the Spectrum, like any show, is to make money. The best way to do that is by presenting a stereotyped version of autism.
I doubt the producers of the show are trying to hurt the autistic community—on the contrary, I think they’re trying to represent autism honestly.
But the show’s fundamental premise defies a sincere representation of autism. You can’t present people who struggle with social cues navigating the social world of dating without turning them into a spectacle. It’s like putting a blind person in a maze and laughing when they bump into the walls.
Infantilizing Cast Members
To introduce new cast members, the show often lists two or three of their likes and dislikes. Take the Rachel Osterbach’s introduction from Episode 3, Season 1:
“Subodh [another cast member] is meeting Rachel. She likes rubbing a dog’s belly and salsa dancing. She doesn’t like skunks or people losing their temper.”
At the time of filming, Rachel was in her late twenties. But the way she’s introduced, especially with the playful music in the background, makes her sound like a child.
Even the tone of the voiceovers is infantilizing: they speak slowly and clearly, as if explaining something complicated to a confused child. It’s condescending.
In its attempts to create a cutesy, wholesome atmosphere, Love on the Spectrum infantilizes its autistic cast members.
The trailer of the recently released third season opens with a shot of Tanner, first introduced in Season 2, grinning at the camera. An off-camera producer says “It’s good to see you.” Tanner responds, “It’s good to see you too, I’m so happy to see your face.” It was a choice to open the trailer with that clip. The kind of choice that the show consistently makes.
All parts of Love on the Spectrum, from the voiceovers, to the introductions, to the marketing, appeal to a sense of wholesomeness for the sake of the audience. It’s part of what makes the show so entertaining. But it does so at the cost of infantilizing autism.
But Also… Boosting Careers and Representing the Unrepresented?
I have my issues with Love on the Spectrum. But I also recognize that the show has done a lot for the autistic community.
A great example is, again, Kaelynn. I first heard about Kaelynn from her TikToks. In fact, I had followed her and shared several of her thoughtful, insightful videos long before I ever heard of Love on the Spectrum.
After her appearance on the show, Kaelynn went on to capture millions of views across her social media platforms. She speaks about autism at massive conferences. She’s published articles. She wrote a book. Much of her impressive career was boosted by starring in Love on the Spectrum.
It’s also important to note the personal experiences of the cast. As Dani, a cast member from all three seasons, put it in an interview with E!:
“First of all this show Love on the Spectrum, what they did is they allowed all of us on the spectrum in the show to be our true authentic selves and allow us to have our own voice to answer our questions.”
— Dani Bowman
From what I can tell, most cast members agree with Dani’s sentiments. Their experiences are completely valid, and should be taken into account.
Love on the Spectrum has some serious issues, but it still represents real autistic people living their lives. And maybe an imperfect representation is better than no representation at all.
What Should we Make of This?
I’ve continued watching the show. I still enjoy it. But after discussing some of its issues, my mom has found herself unable to watch. She told me it feels wrong.
If it’s wrong to watch Love on the Spectrum, then the more people watch it, the more autism becomes an infantilized spectacle.
Or maybe it isn’t that simple. I’m not autistic, so I might not have a very good grasp on the effect the show has on autistic communities.
More importantly, maybe it doesn’t really matter what I think. The show may be targeted at neurotypical people like me, but we’re not the ones being represented or misrepresented.
I stand by the issues I illustrated about Love on the Spectrum. But first and foremost, the opinions of autistic people about their own community matter.
So here are three other articles about the show—from an autistic perspective.
- ‘It Treats Us Like Children’ – What 5 Autistic People Think Of Netflix’s Love On The Spectrum
- Adult Autistics Review Netflix’s Love on the Spectrum
- My review of Netflix’s ‘Love on the Spectrum: Season 2’ as an autistic adult
Maybe you can figure out whether or not it’s okay to watch Love on the Spectrum yourself. If you do, let me know.
