Review: Heartbreak High's Quinni and the importance of autistic representation

Heartbreak High feels like the representation that autistic women like myself have been seeking for so long. Even in this era of increasing awareness, autistic characters in media are such a rarity that I’ll always tune in when an authentic example appears on our screens. The Australian Netflix show answered that call with the character of Quinni, portrayed by autistic actress and disability advocate Chloé Hayden. However, I was disappointed to see her character stripped back in the newly-released second season with some narrative shifts that left me wondering – how genuinely committed are show-runners and studios to their autistic characters, when they’re largely motivated by the proven profitability of neurotypical sensibilities?

It’s no wonder so many of us arrive late at the awareness of our own neurodivergence when the only examples of autism we’ve seen on screen reflect the male-dominated stereotypes inherent in characters such as Sheldon in The Big Bang Theory or whatever’s going on with Freddie Highmore’s character in The Good Doctor. Quinni diverts from these tropes in a way that resonates with her (expansive) demographic – she’s loud, she’s colourful, she’s full of passion, and her optimism and empathy coexist with fears of being ‘too much’. 

The first season of Heartbreak High, which aired in 2022, portrays Quinni’s character with such a rich, multilayered complexity, uplifting her positive qualities while also exploring the struggles she faces due to her disability, particularly in the context of social relationships. Her primary plot line involves her romantic and sexual involvement with a neurotypical character, Sasha, who she asks out with a very autistic-level of honesty and directness. As this dynamic plays out, we’re given insight into the autistic experience – for example, when they go on their first date at a restaurant and the editing enhances the lights, sounds and erratic nature of an unpredictable social environment to reflect Quinni’s overstimulation. And when Sasha learns of Quinni’s diagnosis and responds by saying "but… you’re really emotionally intelligent", which speaks deeply to the prevalent autistic stereotype that we lack empathy or varied expression, something Quinni offers a direct and refreshing contrast to.    

Quinni ultimately feels misunderstood and unsupported by Sasha, which culminates in a meltdown – a relatable and heart-wrenching portrayal of the grief caused by the daily struggle to communicate, regulate and exist authentically in a neurotypical world. Thank goodness she has her best friend Darren, who consistently supports her throughout the show, and when she asks them if she’s "too much", replies by saying "yeah… but you’re my too much", a tribute to the beauty of found family within neurodivergent and queer communities.

I was excited to see where they would take Quinni’s character in the second season of the show – give her a more empathetic love interest, perhaps? – but unfortunately found myself underwhelmed. It felt like she was sidelined within the narrative and reduced to the ‘quirky sidekick’, a common trope for autistic and disabled characters.

For the entire first half of the season, Quinni is a secondary player in the story of her neurotypical peers, spouting the occasional ‘autistic quip’ such as being unsympathetically blunt or taking something too literally. While some elements of the neurodivergent experience arise, such as hyperfixation and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, the way she responds to them feels inauthentic in the context of her prior characterisation, and results in her spending the second half of the season being alienated, infantilised and portrayed as cold and uncaring – two very un-Quinni qualities. It feels strange that an autistic character should be deprived of her rich inner world which we saw so much of in the first season, especially when Chloé Hayden is a writer herself and has contributed to her character in the past by incorporating her own special interests, and would, I’m sure, have many suggestions of where they could take Quinni’s story. But the screen time goes instead to the neurotypical characters and, non-sensically given the demographic of the show, superfluous white men, while our vibrant autistic icon is robbed of her confidence and reduced to, at best, a plot device. She says it herself in the fifth episode: "I don’t want to be a burden, but I’m never given any time", a quote which I think perfectly sums up my feelings about her role, or lack thereof, in this season’s script.

While I hope for further evolution of Quinni’s character in a third season, our media is always at the mercy of streaming-era whim and premature endings, so it’s a shame that she wasn’t given a proper storyline this time around. It does, however, highlight the necessity for more diverse autistic representation, particularly characters centred within their own narrative, and the abundance of autistic voices eager to tell their own stories and see them celebrated on screen. 

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