Sorry, trolls, the launch of Mattel’s autistic Barbie is its best doll yet

From Barbie dolls with wheelchairs, canes, prosthetic legs and hearing aids; to blind Barbies and dolls with Down’s Syndrome and type 1 diabetes – plus a Ken doll with vitiligo – playing with toys has come a long, long way since I last had a ragtag bunch of Barbie, Sindy and Jem dolls in the 1980s.

In fact, I’ve still got my box of 40-something fashionistas at home, and as well as practically being antiques, they are also – scarily – identical. Universally platinum blonde (apart from the times I got annoyed and hacked off their perfect ponytails or gave them marker-pen green highlights); they have tiny waists, even tinier outfits (Madam, please!), impossibly long legs and feet so severely pointed that if they were real, it would probably mean they’d have to walk around on all fours.

Disabled Barbie? No chance: the outdated aim was for Barbie to be fake, plastic and supposedly “perfect” in every way (by that outdated “all-American girl” standard, anyway). Well, not anymore.

Nowadays, Mattel looks very different, and this week, the toymaker revealed the latest in its attempts to embrace girlhood in all different shapes, sizes and sensory needs – and it’s autism’s turn.

The so-called “autistic Barbie”, which hit the shelves this week, has apparently been designed in collaboration with the Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) to incorporate some of the more common experiences of autistic people – she’s wearing loose clothing (to minimise uncomfortable textures and fabric-to-skin contact); her eyes look slightly to the side (because some autistic people find direct eye contact difficult) and each doll comes with a small, pink fidget spinner, which is used by some to reduce stress and improve focus.

She is also wearing ear defenders/noise-cancelling headphones to block out background sounds and limit sensory overload – yes, the very same ear defenders that Reform UK’s deputy leader, Richard Tice, described children wearing in schools as “insane” (showing his ignorance of neurodiversity, much?); and she carries a pink AAC device (to represent the tablets used by some non-verbal autistic people to help with communication challenges).

And sure, stereotyping can always be a bit clunky: not every autistic person carries such specific items; and autism is not what you “look like” – it’s who you are – but when it comes to inclusion and representation, I think Mattel is onto a winner. And as a neurodivergent parent of a child with autistic spectrum disorder (ASD) who uses fidget spinners and noise-buffering earplugs, I couldn’t be happier to see certain elements of the condition making its way into the mainstream.

For while I understand the criticism from some parts of the community – many have said they feel that labelling a doll as “autistic” works the other way and piles additional pressure on ASD kids (particularly girls) to “look” a certain way, or to fulfil a picture-perfect, pink, sanitised and neat description of autism – I think that right now, increasing representation and understanding is more important than ever. And every little helps.

Mattel has said the doll “invites more children to see themselves represented in Barbie” – and if that’s true, then it really couldn’t come soon enough. We are living through a time in which neurodivergent people (and specifically and shamefully, children) are under attack from powerful politicians who – quite simply – should know better.

First, in September, Donald Trump made the reckless suggestion that taking paracetamol during pregnancy can “cause autism”. He said there had been a “meteoric” rise in autism, which he described as “among the most alarming public health developments in history”, and urged pregnant women to “tough it out” and refrain from taking Tylenol, an over-the-counter painkiller sold in the UK as paracetamol, as he claimed it was linked to the developmental disorder.

In November, Reform UK – not exactly known for their tolerance of “difference” – laid into kids with additional sensory needs, too; with Tice and Nigel Farage claiming ASD and ADHD are “massively overdiagnosed” and part of a “crisis” in the special educational needs and disabilities (SEND) system. If they understood the facts, they’d know that diagnosis has only increased because our understanding of these conditions has also increased – and that this is a net positive, for everyone.

And finally, Wes Streeting effectively punched down on young people with the condition in December, when he announced a review into the supposed “overdiagnosis” of ADHD and autism (or, as my colleague Kat Brown put it: overdiagnosis is the health secretary’s preferred way of reframing the 500,000-strong waiting list for assessment in the UK, added to the myriad waiting lists for every other health problem affecting people’s lives).

Autistic kids are being attacked, stigmatised and let down by those in power like never before – so it’s never been more important to remind them that they belong. And the simplest way to do that? By making dolls and toys that show they’re integral to society, just like everybody else.

Representation is important. Studies show that playing with toys not only helps to develop children’s cognitive skills and social abilities, but also their attitudes towards diversity and inclusion. Plus, for children with disabilities, having toys that represent them can help boost their sense of belonging – and self-esteem. If kids don’t see themselves on the shelves – and learn to appreciate their difference for what it is (special, important, beautiful) then they might just start believing the hateful rhetoric of the men in charge.

Can you always tell when someone is autistic? No. But we can certainly help to remind autistic kids that they don’t have to hide.