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Over time, though, I met more and more people with ADHD and other cognitive differences, and through those connections, I learned more about my brother’s diagnosis. I have been lucky to know people with a range of diverse neurological conditions such as Down syndrome, autism, bipolar disorder, Tourette syndrome, and others. It wasn’t until recently, though, that I discovered the term “neurodiversity” that encompassed all of these conditions in a positive way.
What is neurodiversity, though? Sean Nyhan, an education writer, explains the meaning of the term optimistically, focusing on the ways neurodiverse individuals have unique thought patterns rather than an impairment. He underscores the importance of recognizing that differences in the way neurodiverse people think should not be labeled as disabilities but simply as a different way of functioning. Neurodiverse conditions aren’t debilitating disorders that need to be fixed and should not be presented as such in any context.
Neurodiverse individuals are very rarely represented in the media, and even less frequently in a positive light. This erasure is particularly apparent in romance literature where neurodiverse characters are unlikely to be seen and even less likely to be accurately depicted.
I believe the romance genre is an important one to highlight when discussing neurodiverse representation. Romance novels bring in over a billion dollars each year and make up nearly a quarter of the fiction market in the United States. Romance novels must center around two people falling in love and feature a satisfying and optimistic ending, elements that specifically appeal to neurodivergent representation. The few narratives centering around neurodiverse characters, though, largely fail to feature them in loving and committed romantic relationships. These characters are unlikely to experience a happy ending or have fulfilling relationships.
Too many times when and if a neurodiverse character’s conflict is resolved at the end of a story, they are somehow “cured” of their neurodiverse traits or manage to “overcome” them. Curing characters of these traits sends the message that, for neurodiverse people to receive their happy ending, they must reject large parts of themselves and their personalities. This narrative harms the community, many of whom do not wish to overcome their differences but rather see them as positive, unique traits.
Additionally, there are dozens of romance novels that feature these characters in other harmful and reductive ways. For example, many authors will include a “vulnerable” character, such as an elderly person, a child, a neurodiverse individual, or a person with a physical disability, who can be used as a “yardstick” to measure the empathy of other characters. Rather than being fully fleshed out people, these characters are used as simple plot devices to fulfill a purpose in another character’s life and then disappear into the background of the story. This is a dehumanizing trope seen in almost all areas of fiction, not just romance.
But many authors and publishers have the same question when it comes to creating more positive representation: Will readers actually buy it?
When Helen Hoang’s debut romance novel The Kiss Quotient was published in 2018, it became an instant bestseller and generated massive amounts of press attention. The main character of the book, Stella, is autistic, and a large portion of the book’s plot focuses on that fact. Hoang herself is neurodiverse and has been open about her journey to being diagnosed with autism at the age of 34. The author expressed that, through writing Stella’s character, she has been able to better understand herself. Hoang believes that her novel could help others empathize with the neurodiverse community and give a voice to those who haven’t seen themselves represented in the romance genre.
In her second bestselling novel, Hoang wrote about another autistic character, Khai, who believes himself incapable of love. Hoang mentioned in interviews that she was inspired by articles she read on the internet stating that autistic people were heartless, cold, and selfish, making them unable to fall in love or have any true romantic relationships. Khai himself believes this to be true at the beginning of the novel, and throughout the story Hoang works to break down this harmful stereotype, showing that autistic people can be kind and loving partners. This positive representation and its subsequent success show that when publishers work with neurodiverse authors and narratives, readers can be extremely receptive.
As an avid romance reader, I have been sorely disappointed with the lack of positive representation for the neurodiverse community. The romance genre has always struggled with diversity, but this community has been particularly neglected. If my friends with autism and Tourette syndrome could see people like them portrayed as having loving relationships and happy endings, it might be easier for them to imagine themselves in those situations. It is human nature to crave love and intimacy -- that’s why many people read romance novels in the first place -- and all people are deserving of these things, no matter their differences.
Claire Harmon is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2023. She studies library science and political science at the University of Louisville.