Finding the “Sweet” Spot in “Love on the Spectrum”

I was never a reality TV guy. I used to watch some of the singing and cooking competition shows, but even those have gotten boring for me. My wife, however, more than makes up for me.

A few years ago, she started talking to me about “Love on the Spectrum,” way before it gained a huge audience. It has consistently rated as one of Netflix’s highest-rated programs, often in the top 10. According to a glowing review in The New York Times, one of the show’s stars, Tanner Smith, has an online following of 2.5 million.

My initial aversion to watching came more from not liking reality TV than the subject matter, but as the father of an autistic 20-year-old, I was mildly intrigued. On the other hand, I was a bit concerned that it might exploit or stereotype autistic people, or at least simplify their portrayal. (I subscribe to the belief, “If you know one autistic person, you know one autistic person,” a sentence that works if you replace “autistic” with just about anything.)

After finally caving and watching a few episodes, I was generally delighted, with a few criticisms.

On the delighted side, I found the show to be authentic and about real, believable people. From quick glimpses of the “who wants to marry a                ” or the bachelor/bachelorette shows, it’s obvious how contrived those shows are, and they always portray beautiful, perfectly proportioned people who look like they stepped out of a modeling agency. “Love on the Spectrum” showcases individuals who are undeniably neurodivergent, and, not to generalize, that often means they are more honest and unfiltered. One can easily empathize with their struggles in connecting with others in search of romance, because many of us have experienced similar struggles in our lives, regardless of how our brains operate.

The show also does a great job of showcasing autistic people in a positive light, giving them a share of representation in a society where most people have no exposure to them. They are individuals, functional in several areas of their lives, but challenged in this one area of connecting with people…but not for lack of wanting to. And this representation can go far to challenge the myth of autistic people of being disconnected, uncaring, or uninterested in personal relationships, which, frankly, I have always found wrong and offensive.

On the other hand, “Love on the Spectrum” is hardly without some failings. While it goes far to represent people with autism, those people are generally white and middle-class or higher. The show’s authenticity would benefit from a greater focus on more diverse races and classes, whose experiences are surely different. It would also open the opportunity to show how income levels impact other aspects of neurodivergent lives, such as access to therapists and social services. As parents of autistic kids know, even supports in elementary and high schools vary greatly by location and income level—an issue that surely needs a light shined on it.

I could see how some might find the show slightly exploitative, or at least emphasizing people’s differences for entertainment value more than for sympathy. But our autistic kid, who is well attuned to such exploitation, seemed to enjoy the show without complaining. I wonder whether the show is made more for parents like us who are looking for inspiration and hope in the lives of our kids than for neurodivergent people themselves.

Most reality TV is like an experiment in quantum physics: observing it changes the results. The camera may be your eye into this world, but behind that camera is a director, cinematographer, lighting technician, audio technician, key grip, gaffer, and others during all the family chats, arranged dates, and side interviews. Fortunately, the creators of “Love on the Spectrum” are open about being part of the show and having an impact on their subjects’ lives.

I would recommend “Love on the Spectrum” only if you go into it with an open mind. If you feel you might be offended, you probably will be. If you’re looking for some light inspiration, you’ll probably enjoy it. I think parents of neurodivergent kids will probably enjoy it more than the kids themselves. It certainly isn’t a Ken Burns documentary, and it won’t give you answers on finding love, but it will provide more than a few smiles.