Finding Autistic Theatre Artists Is a Challenge (If You Make It a Challenge)

In one of the theatre-centric Facebook groups I’m in, an Autistic director was looking for plays about Autism by Autistic writers. Amid innumerable recommendations of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (a wonderful play, but not written by or for Autistic folks) was this comment: “Finding plays about Autism by Autistic playwrights may be a challenge.”

As an Autistic playwright myself, I raised my eyebrow.

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen finding Autistic artists referred to as “a challenge.” In 2024, I submitted a play featuring an Autistic protagonist to a theatre in a fairly large community. The artistic director liked the play very much but said that casting would be a “challenge.”

Again, that word: Challenge.

Why was this word coming up in relation to Autistic artists?

When you look at the way the theatre industry operates, it’s not hard to see why.

In an industry built on relationships, it’s difficult for Autistic people, many of whom struggle with social cues and relationship-building, to find champions and advocates. Allistic-written stories about Autism are still the most frequently produced and elevated (Hello again, Curious Incident), so it’s easy for Autistic artists to feel that stories from their perspectives are not worthy of an audience. And in a rehearsal environment that can be high-stress and sensorially triggering, it’s easy for Autistic artists to experience sensory overload, putting them at risk for meltdowns or burnout.

Find the character in the words and actions, not through their “Autistic behaviors.”

The theatre industry has certainly made strides with accessibility. More and more theatres are posting content advisories, offering sensory friendly or “relaxed” performances, and ensuring their spaces are Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) compliant. But all of this is about audience accessibility. What about accessibility for Autistic artists who are eager to bring their stories to life?

If finding and including Autistic theatre artists is a “challenge,” it’s only because the theatre industry, intentionally or not, makes it so.

In my experience as an Autistic theatre professional, Autistic actors, designers, dramaturgs, directors, and stage managers are some of the smartest, most creative, compassionate, and downright fun people to work with. They bring a well-rounded and conscientious approach to their craft, particularly Autistic designers, whose personal experiences can bring an access-based approach to their work. It would be detrimental to the industry to exclude these brilliant artists from the industry due to perceived “challenges,” particularly when theatres are well positioned to undo and dismantle these notions. Across many rehearsal spaces, I’ve seen how taking an intentional and flexible approach to accessibility can benefit all artists involved in a production. I will be sharing the recommendations and practices for casting, rehearsing, and performing with Autistic artists that I have found most effective in the hope that theatre leaders will be encouraged and empowered to hire Autistic artists in future productions.

On Casting

“Nothing about us without us“ has served as a battle cry for disability representation when it comes to policymaking and disability representation. Many films and theatrical productions that are instigated by Allistic and non-disabled artists hire disability consultants to shape narrative, develop characters, and ensure that representation is equitable. If these consultants identify as Autistic, this effort towards inclusion ensures that at least one Autistic voice is in the room. However, when hiring a consultant isn’t paired with hiring other Autistic collaborators, it keeps authentic Autistic and disabled representation offstage, rather than allowing Autistic and disabled audience members to see themselves onstage. It also limits opportunities to collaborate with Autistic artists.

I’ve found many of the Autistic actors I’ve worked with through organizations such as EPIC Players and Action Play, as well as on casting sites such as Backstage and Breakdown Express. Utilizing these sources has allowed me to work with and develop relationships with many Autistic artists in the tristate area where I live, and I can bring those relationships into an out-of-town project if the locale is convenient. On more than one occasion, however, I’ve been asked to provide guidance in searching for Autistic actors to perform my work. This is not my job. My job is to provide a play for a theatre to perform in exchange for royalties. It is not to research or vet organizations to ensure they support equitability for Autistic individuals and aren’t associated with a historically harmful organization like Autism Speaks. This is one area where a consultant can be invaluable, especially if they have ties to local Autism organizations in a theatre’s community. By serving as a conduit between a theatre and local Autism organizations, a consultant can assist with facilitating potential partnerships, collaborations, and audience engagement.

One challenge that frequently accompanies finding Autistic actors relates to disclosure and diagnosis. Many Autistic actors I know don’t want to publicly disclose their disability, fearing infantilization or assumed incompetence. Others identify as Autistic but aren’t formally diagnosed due to finances, lack of access, or personal choice. Others yet identify as Autistic but simply don’t feel the need to disclose. In a casting process, I heavily recommend not asking an actor to disclose. The topic of diagnosis is very sensitive in the Autistic community, with some believing that self-diagnosis isn’t valid and many unable to financially access a formal diagnosis.

Finally, once an Autistic actor publicly discloses their Autism, it’s easy for them to be cast in Autistic roles only. To combat this, I encourage directors and casting directors to honor what the Autistic actor wants to get out of a project and whether their goals align with the project’s needs. Sometimes, an Autistic actor is exhilarated to play an Autistic character in a play that accurately reflects their experience. Other Autistic actors don’t want to play Autistic characters at all. In a recent production of mine, an Autistic actor was asked to read for the Autistic protagonist. They declined, citing a keener interest in tackling Autism from a different angle. They were ultimately cast as an Allistic supporting character, allowing them to accomplish their artistic goal.

It can be difficult to self-advocate when you have not been encouraged to do so, particularly in an ensemble-oriented environment where a “team player” mentality is encouraged.

But what if a theatre wants to produce a play involving Autism and absolutely does not know any Autistic actors or have any in their network or communities who are available for their project? One option is to cancel the project and wait until the right artists come along, which is fair. Another is to gauge what the artists’ relationships with the Autistic/neurodiverse/disability community is. Do they have a sibling who’s neurodiverse? Do they work with disabled individuals? If they want to disclose their Autism, that’s okay too, but only if they offer it. Asking for disclosure should absolutely not be mandatory.

Finally, if an Allistic actor is cast as an Autistic character, my only advice is this: Find the character in the words and actions, not through their “Autistic behaviors.” During a rehearsal for a recent production of mine, an Autistic character was played by an Allistic actor. The rehearsal process began by emphasizing the characters’ outward Autistic behaviors, such as stims (self-stimulatory and repetitive body movements that Autistic people do for self-regulation). When this approach wasn’t working, the director and actor decided to approach the character from another angle: Start with the characters’ words and speech patterns, and let the behaviors stem from there. The performance, as well as the overall production, began to feel more humanistic and natural, which positively impacted the cast and crew (several of whom identified as Autistic).

On Rehearsal Practices/Accommodations

One consistent concern I hear from Autistic actors is not wanting to advocate for themselves in the rehearsal room due to fear of being seen as “difficult” or “needy.” It can be difficult to self-advocate when you have not been encouraged to do so, particularly in an ensemble-oriented environment where a “team player” mentality is encouraged. However, there is one very effective way that theatres and directors can get a sense of everyone’s access needs before rehearsals even begin: the pre-rehearsal survey.

(It also needs be said: self-advocacy and “being difficult” are completely different, and it behooves everyone in theatre to know the difference. Self-advocating is making sure you can do your job safely, effectively, and well. Being difficult is causing problems for the sake of causing problems. It is not “needy” for any artist, Autistic or not, to ask for support from organizations that have hired them.)

The Broadway production of How to Dance in Ohio used an anonymous pre-rehearsal survey to account for the (mostly Autistic) cast’s access and sensory needs. Created by Autism consultant Ava Xiao-Lin Rigelhaupt and Becky Leifman, this survey asked questions revolving around how actors would feel supported/comfortable during a rehearsal and technical process, learning styles for new materials, sensory information, how costume/wig fittings and prop use can be made comfortable, and what a comfortable dressing room looks like.

When my play More of a Heart was about to go into rehearsal, director Allen MacLeod had the idea of repurposing this survey for our production. Advocacy captain Carrie Nath crafted and distributed the survey. Although our cast mostly identified as Autistic, we found that everyone in the cast had access needs, from requiring white noise sounds to needing a few seconds to adjust from darkness to light to needing a quiet space to pace back and forth. Keeping this survey anonymous also encouraged our performers to be candid and specific about how we could support them, especially through emotionally difficult scenes.

More of a Heart features an Autistic character named Zachary who experiences meltdowns in moments of extreme emotion or overwhelm. This manifests in Zachary screaming and hitting himself on the head. If handled poorly, an onstage meltdown can go horribly wrong—not only can it deplete the actor emotionally, but it can also trigger an actual meltdown. While rehearsing the world premiere of this play, we hired an intimacy designer (the brilliant Kate Busselle) who not only staged scenes of intimacy, but also designed an emotional and physical arc for Zachary’s meltdowns. On a scale of 1-10, we determined which state of emotional intensity Zachary was experiencing (never going higher than an 8) and how long exactly each scream needed to be, and we choreographed the hand-to-head contact in a way that didn’t give our actor a concussion. The focus was on de-escalation. The text gets the actor to the point of a meltdown. The job of our choreography was to get the actor down from there. Having a fight and intimacy choreographer guide actors through building character stims can be crucial to ensuring that actors, both Autistic and Allistic, never feel like they’re making fun of Autism or Autistic people. It also gives them tools to keep their performances safe and sustainable through the run. Working with an Autistic actor specifically can also provide the fight and intimacy choreographer knowledge and support in ensuring that the representation is accurate, authentic, and respectful.

Supporting neurodiverse actors during emotionally difficult scenes can also mean allowing them to step away from rehearsal entirely. Another play of mine, The Wonderful Out There, features a group of neurodiverse children who find themselves in a purgatorial holding space after their lives are abruptly ended. While rehearsing a reading of this play, a neurodiverse actor (let’s call them Robyn) was going through a difficult period of grief and was struggling to get through the play. After some discussion, Robyn, the director, and I decided to release them from rehearsal to prevent a potentially harmful and distressing situation. In the meantime, we worked on other scenes with the actors who remained, which ended up filling our rehearsal schedule. The next day, Robyn came into rehearsal replenished, rested, and ready to work. We didn’t bring up the previous day once, and Robyn delivered a stellar performance that night.

I realize that a lot of what I’m writing can spawn the question: “Why are we giving all of this support to an Autistic actor when there are other actors in the show, too?” That’s a valid question, and I appreciate that directors want to make sure everyone feels equally supported. My solution is simple: Make accommodations available for all actors. This can begin by everyone taking the pre-rehearsal survey. Agreeing on a common break schedule and making “opt-out” time available to everyone are also great inclusion strategies. The goal is to help everyone in the cast and crew feel heard, leading to a more collaborative and equitable rehearsal space.

It is possible, incredibly possible, to unmake the perceived challenges of hiring and working with Autistic artists.

On Other Artists

Elevating a select few Autistic creatives runs the risk of falling into a monolithic view of Autism. Most mainstream Autism narratives center cishet white men (and my work is also guilty of this). Anyone, and I do mean anyone, can identify as Autistic. The old cliché “If you’ve met one person with Autism, you’ve met one person with Autism” holds true. Just a few openly Autistic playwrights whose works are subversive, brilliant, and necessary include Harmon dot aut, Jordan Elizabeth Henry, Emma Goldman-Sherman, Hayley St. James, MD Schaffer, Kyle A. Smith, Carolyn Gage, and Alex Perez.

You have brilliant directors like Jenna Lourenco, Megan Lummus, and Kate Trammell.

You have dramaturgs like Cortland Nesley (who runs the writer’s group NeuroTales), Luke Evans (also a brilliant playwright), and Sydney Zarlengo, whose YouTube channel is a wealth of disability dramaturgy, history, and advocacy.

You have memoirs like Mickey Rowe’s Fearlessly Different, in which he discusses his harrowing experience auditioning for the national tour of Curious Incident.

These artists are just a few whose work presents a constellation of Autism and neurodiversity. Not only does their work include stellar alternatives to plays such as Curious Incident, but it also offers a diverse range of perspectives and storytelling approaches that interrogate and reshape how an “Autism play” is perceived. In addition to the heightened theatrical approach to Autism that Curious Incident utilizes (which, ironically, rendered the original production inaccessible to many people with sensory needs), Autism plays can be mundane, hyper-realistic, complex, and messy.

Furthermore, since anyone can be Autistic, there is opportunity to explore the intersectionality of Autism with queer, trans, Black, Brown, and Indigenous identities. This diversified representation can lead to a more nuanced discourse about Autism, as well as a deeper humanization of Autistic individuals in society.

On Continuing

Yes, working with us can be a challenge. Our access needs may require you to shift your rehearsal schedule. You may need to figure out different ways to communicate direction to us. You may need to listen to us when we need to step out of the rehearsal room. You may need to be humble in acknowledging that the way you operate a rehearsal room may not work for all artists.

But those are not reasons to exclude us from the theatre industry. It would be a failure of flexibility, accessibility, and imagination to do so.

I’d like to go back to an anecdote I shared at the beginning of this essay, in which an artistic director said to me that casting would be a “challenge.” In response, I wrote an email that included the following (edits are mine):

As for casting… If casting an Autistic actor as [the Autistic protagonist] is your primary concern, I think you’d be surprised by how many Autistic actors are out there. Many actors who identify as Autistic don’t disclose it due to fear of being stigmatized or being seen as “difficult.” Of course, I don’t know [your] community that well, but I think you’ll find more people with a connection to Autism and/or neurodiversity than you think.

All of this to say…as long as there are Autistic voices somewhere in the room, on or off the stage, I think you should be fine.

Two and a half months later, the artistic director emailed me to say they had decided to include my play in their upcoming season.

It is possible, incredibly possible, to unmake the perceived challenges of hiring and working with Autistic artists.

It will only remain a challenge if you keep making it a challenge.