Reading Anti-Ableism in Steven Universe

By Christea Parent

Like many other millennial queers, I have a soft spot for Steven Universe. The show provides refreshing depictions of queer and femme characters who tackle complex subjects while still being tightly packaged in an upbeat, colorful children’s television show. As a disabled and neurodivergent person, I have also seen reflections of myself and my disability community in the show, particularly in the episode Onion Gang from Season 4. I’d like to offer a brief reading of this episode through a disability lens. In this reading, Onion and his friends represent disability and neurodivergence. Steven is the non-disabled, allistic, neurotypical every-man, the “normal” through which the audience views the world of the episode.

In Onion Gang, Onion introduces Steven to his group of friends, who are all different in the same ways as Onion. Steven hangs with this crew and learns their ways, but eventually swears them off and seeks company from his “normal” friends, who are unavailable. Steven finds himself to be the lonely kid he thought Onion was. He apologizes to the group and, upon realizing Onion’s friends are leaving for the season, renews his friendship with Onion.

Throughout this episode, Steven displays overt ableism and paternalism towards Onion. Onion is a young, mischievous, largely non-speaking character who Steven often describes as “creepy” and “weird.” It is unclear why Onion does not usually speak (he does occasionally speak to his parents in an unrecognizable language and appears to understand others speaking to him). While there are many interpretations to explain Onion’s behavior, he is certainly atypical, and in Steven’s eyes he is disabled and in need of charity.

Steven reveals this in the first moments of the show, when he begins narrating what he believes to be Onion’s thoughts. This narration is an uncomfortable depiction of how disabled people (especially those who are non-speaking) are often treated by well-meaning, non-disabled people. Steven not only believes he knows what Onion is thinking, he does not trust Onion to be able to communicate these thoughts, and instead takes the liberty of expressing them himself. Steven believes he knows what’s best for Onion, giving a one-sided interpretation based on his own assumptions, and does not allow Onion full agency. Steven fills his perceived gaps in Onion’s language simply to comfort himself, as Onion seems perfectly content to communicate through gestures.

This paternalism is reinforced by Steven as he watches Onion go home, saying:

“Things get a little lonely for Onion, not knowing any other kids his age; but luckily he had his friend Steven, who would kindly donate some time to a youth in need.”

Steven sees himself as a hero for entertaining Onion, who he views as lesser and too weird to be capable of developing his own relationships. This portrays the deep ableism of many who interact with disabled people: that we are woefully inadequate on our own. Lucky for Steven, Onion does not feel this way about him, and introduces him to a gaggle of kids who share Onion’s communication style. They instantly embrace Steven and invite him on their adventures.

Here, Steven gets a taste of what it’s like to be an outsider and is slow to understand what is going on with the group. They show him a boxcar they’re working on building, and he graciously offers them help – before seeing they are much more capable of doing the work than he is. He sees Onion scribbling in the dirt and calls it creepy – before realizing he is making a bug-racing track. Repeatedly, Steven makes assumptions about the group – ones that are rooted in their deficiency – and is proven wrong.

Steven realizes the truth: Onion and his friends don’t need Steven. They are not dependent on him for communication, for skilled labor, for anything. This, to me, is disability revolution: the acknowledgement that disabled people can be entirely reliant on ourselves and do not need the approval or supervision of non-disabled people. Disabled people have inherent value and can build communities based in interdependence and sharing skills, love, and power. I love the security Onion’s friends find in each other, the comfort with which they interact, and how they extend the same radical acceptance to Steven, who they let in on their elaborate rituals. (Not without a little fun, of course. The group plays a prank on Steven and giggles to themselves about his inability to understand the subtlety of the situation. How’s that for a power flip?)

Steven gets overwhelmed by this environment and reacts by swearing off the group entirely, dismissing them as “weirdos,” but finds himself alone. When Onion comes along again, Steven tells him to leave because he doesn't want any pity. Steven cannot help but project his own ableism onto Onion. He is convinced that Onion was only hanging out with him out of pity, because that is what Steven had been doing to Onion. At the realization that Onion doesn’t need Steven, he fears that this power dynamic is now being used against him. This, however, is not the case, and the two end the episode with a tearful hug.

Ultimately, we find that the disabled and non-disabled characters can find authentic community in each other when they let people be who they are and try to reach them where they’re at, rather than where they think they should be. When the environment is changed and the dominant voice is that of the disabled, we no longer see an “othering” based on ability status. Humans are naturally diverse and interdependent, and through disability justice we can all work towards a world where these different expressions are not only honored but celebrated and recognized as essential.

While Steven Universe is an imperfect show with an imperfect lens on disability, it does have these small moments of brilliance that I revel in. I hope that all the young “weirdos” can see the greatness in themselves, their friends, and their communities through this episode.

Christea Parent (they/them) is an artist, creator, producer, and care worker living in Chicago, IL. They are a disabled and neurodivergent activist and community-builder, a member of Disability Lead, and serve as the treasurer for the Chicago Disability Activism Collective. They can be seen across the city as a performance artist and producer of queer fringe variety shows.