Mattel’s 2025 release of an autistic Barbie doll has been widely celebrated as a milestone for inclusion. A global brand, a mainstream toy, and a condition that has long lived somewhere between stigma, misunderstanding, and silence. On the surface, it feels like progress. But as with most things involving autism and neurodivergence, the reality is more complicated.
I didn’t have a Barbie growing up in the 70s. I didn’t identify with her, and frankly, she felt too American. Instead, I had Sindy: rounder-faced, British, and at one point famously accompanied by a very British horse and riding gear. Sindy felt closer to real life. Barbie, on the other hand, was pink, polished, and eventually ubiquitous.
Mattel’s new release is identified as autistic largely through accessories: ear defenders, sensory tools, predictable routines. That raises an immediate question: does autism live in the person, or in the supports around them?