From Harm to Hope: Creating a Neurodivergent Heroine in Response to Ignorance

Recently, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., now appointed as U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services, made deeply troubling and harmful remarks about autism.

Referring to it as a “preventable disease,” he said, “These are kids who will never pay taxes, they’ll never hold a job, they’ll never play baseball, they’ll never write a poem, they’ll never go on a date, many of them will never use a toilet unassisted.”

Not only are these claims offensive, they are factually and scientifically false.

Autism is a spectrum, not a sentence. While some individuals require more support, many autistic people live fully independent and meaningful lives. They fall in love. They start companies. They raise families. They pay taxes. And yes, some write poems that break your heart with their brilliance. To reduce this community to a list of assumed deficits is dehumanizing and unacceptable, especially from someone tasked with shaping national health policy.

This is why we need characters like Nevermore.

I wrote her to push back against these outdated, damaging narratives. Nevermore is neurodivergent because our stories (and our heroines) need to reflect the beautiful, varied spectrum of human experience. She doesn’t move through the world like everyone else, and that’s not just something we have to accept, it’s something beautiful. Her literal interpretation of the world, combined with her stims and repetitive behaviors, is a rebellion against the way people like Kennedy try to define others by limitation instead of possibility.

Parents of autistic children are rightly outraged. They want the world to know their children are not broken. They are not burdens. What they want from the rest of us is understanding. Patience. Respect. Not pity, and definitely not erasure.

My own encounters with autistic friends, family, and the moving stories in shows like Love on the Spectrum have opened my heart to the incredible depth, humor, and honesty that neurodivergent individuals bring to the world. They often speak with a directness and emotional clarity that neuro-typicals struggle to access. There’s a kind of magic in their presence, a lens that reframes reality in the most unexpected and refreshing ways.

Nevermore exists because representation matters. She is not a token, she is a tribute. A quiet protest. A reminder that the world is not made better by conforming, but by including. We don’t need to fix autism. We need to fix the way we see it.