Autistic Barbie and Autism:
Maria Teresa De Donato's Perspective
Mattel’s new Autistic Barbie is sparking a major
debate regarding the representation of autism in society. As someone who
chronicled Cesare’s story in AUTISM from a DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE,
how do you view this type of initiative? What is your core perspective on using
such products to represent autism?
Giovanni Tommasini and I have approached autism from a practical, empathetic,
altruistic, and “no-nonsense” standpoint, basing our work on experience: he as
an Educator who has supported autistic children and young people for
decades—offering loving support to their families—and I as a Naturopath and
Homeopath, having dedicated forty years to health and wellness and examining
the individual in their entirety, which entails taking into account not only
physical aspects but also emotional and mental ones. I offer this preamble for
those who may not be familiar with our work.
To answer your question: personally, I believe that potentially every method
could—in theory—be useful. However, several fundamental factors must be kept in
mind. Namely:
• The
appropriate or inappropriate manner in which it is utilized;
• The specific
objective one aims to achieve;
• The experience and expertise accumulated by the individual employing
such
tools;
• The
methodology employed.
Your book highlights the profound uniqueness of
every autistic child and the difficulty society faces in truly understanding
them. Can a doll genuinely help the public connect with this complexity, or
does it risk oversimplifying it?
I do not believe that a simple doll can, in and
of itself, teach anyone anything. However, I am convinced that any tool can be
useful in some way. It can foster understanding of, and bring people closer to,
complex issues. Still, the ultimate success or failure of such initiatives
depends entirely on the factors I listed earlier. One must also evaluate the expertise
of those who use such tools to ‘educate’ children. In addition, it is vital to
consider the role that parents—and professional educators—actually play (or
should play) in this regard.
For example, in families with young children who bring home a new pet, the main
aim is often companionship.
The intention is usually that the animal will
serve as a companion to the child.
From what I observe, the child treats the animal as a toy far too often. The
child may force it to perform certain actions or movements. Sometimes, they
make it assume specific poses or dress it up however they please.
This raises questions:
·
Is it right to
bring an animal home only to treat it as an object of amusement?
·
What has
become of the role of parents as ‘educators’ and ‘behavioral role models’ for
their children over the last thirty years?
·
Does “loving”
one’s children simply mean coddling and spoiling them? Does it mean allowing
them to do whatever they please, without teaching them the meaning of
discipline? Shouldn’t parents also teach that personal freedom inherently has
limits, specifically those set by respect for others, whoever they may be?
The story of Cesare demonstrates just how
fundamental it is to respect individual timing, boundaries, and sensitivities.
Do you believe that an “Autistic Barbie” could serve as an educational tool for
conveying these values?
Yes and no. As I’ve said before, it depends entirely on how it is used. Let me
clarify with another example.
I recently came across a video featuring this
Barbie. The person who created the video was happy and enthusiastic about this
initiative. Throughout the entire video, the person highlighted
·
That an
autistic Barbie—specifically, a female character—had finally been
created; they also added that
·
‘Fortunately, as they put it, the color of the doll’s skin
is not white, but appears to represent a ‘Native American’ or perhaps a
Latina woman;
·
They then went
on to discuss, in broader terms, the potential sexual orientation of
this Barbie.
Now, I have absolutely no problem engaging with
these topics, and I am ready to have a civil, constructive conversation with
anyone. I might even agree with them on many points. At the same time, however,
when faced with an attitude like this, I have to ask myself: Are we still
talking about “Autism”—and how to help children approach a classmate or
neighbor who has it—or have we moved on to something else entirely?
If this person works in education, instruction, sociology, or psychology, this
concerns me—and deeply so. It is not so much their personal thoughts and views
that worry me—which, if discussed in the proper context, I might even share—but
rather the harmful effect that such an attitude (and, consequently, such
teaching) could have on the children to whom it is imparted, particularly when
applied to this specific subject: Autism.
Let us try to stay on topic and find a practical solution to a condition that
is so difficult to manage, rather than seeking out every excuse and seizing
every opportunity to continue waging war against one another.
That is my humble opinion. That is my concern: the
tendency to destroy rather than build together.
You and Giovanni Tommasini have done a great deal
of work on inclusion and the burden it places on families. Do you think this
Barbie could help spark useful conversations among parents, educators, and
children regarding neurodiversity?
If—as I mentioned—we start on the right foot and
establish the proper premises (the ones I outlined earlier), then yes, this
could indeed be a methodology worth considering—or at the very least, worth
evaluating. However—and I must reiterate this—at present, from what I can see,
we are still a long way from reaching that point.
If you were to imagine how an inclusive toy could
truly reflect the “different perspective” of your book, what elements would you
consider indispensable to ensure it does not misrepresent the reality of
autistic people?
To answer this, let me offer an example to clarify my point.
Years ago, I took a First Aid course that included cardiopulmonary
resuscitation (CPR)—specifically chest compressions—and mouth-to-mouth
breathing.
During that course, naturally, we practiced these two procedures on a
mannequin.
We all hope, of course, that we will never find ourselves in a situation
requiring the practical application of this knowledge. Personally, however, I
did have occasion to apply some of these skills; right here in the U.S., I
taught at a Montessori school for children ages three to four-and-a-half.
Children at that age are truly unpredictable, and—given their high levels of
curiosity and energy—they run the risk of getting themselves into trouble at
any moment. (Need I mention the hard candies they might choke on?)
I was fortunate to have Red Cross paramedics as my instructors—serious, highly
competent professionals.
We moved from theory—using the mannequin—to simulating what a real-life
emergency might actually look like.
Why did I use this example? Because I want to highlight the fact that a doll
alone—or, in the case of the First Aid course, a mannequin—is not sufficient to
truly “educate.” To educate effectively—and to make valid use of any specific
tool—one needs capable, competent, and experienced individuals who know how to
teach and deliver instruction appropriately.
Without these qualities—regardless of the methodologies applied or the tools
employed—the results will prove not only useless but, in the worst-case scenarios,
downright harmful, as they could potentially exacerbate an already difficult
and precarious situation.
I hope I have made myself clear.
