Go Go Power Rangers! How Saban Knocked It Out Of The Park With Autistic Representation

I was a big fan of the Power Rangers when I was young, as I think most kids who grew up in the 90s were. Despite that, however, the series has not aged well at all, and when I went back to watch it for nostalgia’s sake, my rose-coloured goggles shattered rather painfully (oh god! The glass! My eyes!). In light of this, I really didn’t expect much from the newly released reboot movie. After all, if the original series was that bad in retrospect, it really had nowhere to go but up, right?  With that in mind, a friend of mine and I went to the movies to watch Saban’s Mighty Morphin Power Rangers remake, and I have to say that while the movie was more or less exactly what I expected, one thing threw me for a happy loop; it had one of the best, fairest and most positive representations of Autism I’ve ever seen in a big-budget Hollywood movie.

Billy Cranston, AKA the Blue Ranger, has always been a geek. That was part of his charm in the original series; he was the loveable nerd that you couldn’t help but see yourself in (if you were anything like me in the 90s). In his new iteration, however, he takes this to a new level. When you first meet him, he’s obsessively ordering pencils in a certain way on his desk in detention, has a fixation with technology and explosives, rambles on tangents that touch on every topic under the sun in a train of thought that most assuredly only makes sense to him, and for the life of him doesn’t seem to understand social mores, despite knowing details about everyone in school and who they associate with. In short, Billie is Autistic, and even admits it at one point in the movie (he very bluntly tells Jason that the reason he’s a little odd is because he’s on the spectrum), and while at first I cringed, bracing myself for the inevitable autistic stereotyping which usually follows, in this case I have to say that – much like the whole movie itself – I was pleasantly surprised.

Through Billy, we as moviegoers get to see all the positive traits of being on the spectrum, and even some of the endearing neurosis. He uses his formidable intelligence to figure things out before anyone else on the team, and is the only one super interested in learning everything he can about Zordon, Alpha-5 and the advanced technology they brought with them to Earth. He’s also the most human; when all the other rangers jumped off a cliff at one point in the movie, Billy was the only one pacing back and forth nervously, weighing the pros and cons of how safe it would be for him with his new powers, coupled with what would happen to his family if he did die. As someone with Anxiety and Aspergers, I knew all too well what he was going through. The best part of it all though, is that Billy is never shown as anything but a fully capable and contributing member of the Ranger team, and the others rely on him and his friendship as much as he relies on theirs. As an Aspie, I saw so much of myself in Billy, and his character arc in the movie was one of the best-yet-unexpected parts of this movie for me.

Coming out of the theatre, I was impressed by how good Power Rangers actually was. Sure, the movie itself won’t win any awards for originality, but the writers clearly knew their source material, had a good sense of humour, and didn’t take themselves too seriously. Most importantly, however, the creative team at Saban gave us the new version of Billy Cranston – who in my opinion is right up there with Pidge Gunderson of Team Voltron in the “positive representations of Autism in media” category. For this reason alone, this movie will have a special place in my heart as a Neurodiversity activist. Simply put, the world needs more positive portrayals of Neurodiversity in general and more characters like Billy and Pidge in particular. We’re fortunate to live in a time where writers seem to be waking up to this idea, since normalizing it is so very important. Even still, however, more needs to be done.

Despite that though, I’m happy to report that, no matter which team of pilots who operate mechanical beasts that combine into a massive robot you prefer, those of us on the Autism Spectrum will always have a place on it.

Not saying I want Emperor Zarkon, Lord Zed or Rita Repulsa invading this planet anytime soon mind you, but still….

As always yours in diversity,

Adam Michael

"You Don't Own Me": Reflecting On Workplace Abuse One Year Later

Long time readers of this blog will recall how, around this time last year, things were not going well for me at work. I was being bullied by my manager, as I had been for years up to that point, and I’d reached a breaking point. Things came to a head, and my time with that company reached an end rather unceremoniously. At the time, I was both glad to be gone and terrified for what the future held in store for me. What if I wasn’t being bullied? I mused to myself. What if I actually did suck at my job? Who would want to hire someone as clearly incompetent as me? How long would it take for my new employer to realize the kind of person they’d hired? These were all thoughts that swirled through my mind as I faced the uncertainty that came with a significant chapter of my life ending.

It’s almost been one year since all of that happened, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

During the past year, I’ve found success at work, and experienced the appreciation and praise of my managers. I’ve made new friends, and even been promoted to a higher-level sales position complete with office, desk and 9-5 Monday to Friday schedule. By all accounts, leaving my old job was the best decision I made in a long time, and it frankly amazes me how far I’ve come in the time its taken Earth to complete one full rotation around the sun. There is one thing, however, which still gives me pause; why has everything that happened back then still stuck with me? And why did I put up with it for as long as I did?

My therapist has told me that, when faced with any abuse situation, the human mind focuses solely on surviving and doesn’t let us realize how truly bad a situation is. It’s only in retrospect, once the fog clears, that we come to see the truth. I can safely say that this was exactly what I’ve experienced over the past year. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m annoyed that I put up with my old boss’ abuse for as long as I did. Logically, I know that the years I spent there helped me gain the experience I needed to achieve my current success, but somehow that feels like cold comfort.

I think, more than ever, I now understand what abuse victims go through, because in so many ways I was one. My boss controlled my livelihood and finances, along with my prospects for career advancement, and never hesitated to use those to dominate me. He was a narcissist and an asshole, and the scariest part of it all is that I actually started to internalize the things he said. I genuinely began to believe that I was incompetent and pathetic, which is part of the reason I stayed in that job as long as I did. If this company had so many problems with me, I thought, how could I honestly expect to go anywhere else? It’s only now, after having moved on as much as I have, that I see this for the insidious bullying tactic that it was.

I may never fully get over what was done to me. When I look back on it, it’s clear to me that I would have experienced a breakdown had I stayed. At the same time, the scary thing about abusive situations like these is that, when faced with the prospect of leaving, I was both scared and not even sure I had it that bad to begin with. Even now, I keep expecting the other foot to drop; for my new boss to come into my office, screaming and berating me for making a mistake with a client. Despite the fact that I know he would never do such a thing, it’s taken my brain a while to re-order its expectations of managerial behaviour. My old boss’ actions were so normalized in my mind that I still find myself having to re-learn what it means to be part of a healthy team. On some level, I know this sounds ridiculous, but that’s what it feels like to have survived workplace abuse. The anxiety he gave me still haunts me, though I do my best to not let it rule me.

At the end of the day, I not only survived, but thrived, and I like to think of every new success as a stab against the man who, for so long, kept me down.

You don’t own me Steve. You never did, and you never will.

As always yours in diversity,

Adam Michael