In this op-ed, Katy Neas, CEO of The Arc of the United States—a national nonprofit that advocates for and supports people with disabilities—examines Euphoria season three, the show's repeated use of the R-word, and the damage it causes.
In Euphoria's third season, four of the five episodes released so far include use of the R-word in casual dialogue. It gets lobbed as an easy insult that turns disability into something worth mocking. Those lines could have been rewritten in seconds. The harm that follows isn't so easy to undo.
Euphoria, historically, has been a pop culture force. It has, to various degrees, shaped how young people talk, joke, post, and think about what counts as funny or edgy. When a show like this keeps wantonly using the R-word—even when the word comes from unsavory or un-aspirational characters—it may signal to others that it's safe to use again.
There's been a lot of coverage of this season’s plot twists, performances, and other controversies. Far less attention has been paid to the show's continued use of this slur, which demeans people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. The insult may be aimed at another character in the scene, but it still carries the same messages every time: that having a disability is something shameful or laughable; that the humanity of people with disabilities isn't valued.
It’s not just Euphoria; the R-word is again spreading across media and public life. But when a show like Euphoria uses it, that spread becomes especially powerful in its reach, influence, and social permission. It moves quickly from the TV screen into social media threads, school hallways, and everyday speech.
And it doesn’t stop there. When a slur becomes casual, exclusion can also slowly become casual. People with intellectual and developmental disabilities may start to feel that shift everywhere: in bullying, classrooms, hiring, public programs and policies, and the constant signals about who belongs and who doesn’t.
As CEO of The Arc of the United States, a national nonprofit that advocates for and supports people with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD) and their families, I hear from people every day about what it has meant to carry the weight of this word their entire lives.
“Every time I hear the R-word, I want to run, hide, and curl up into a ball,” Nicole LeBlanc, an advocate with autism, tells me. “I was bullied and called the R-word from elementary school to early adulthood. I often wished I was normal.”
That’s just the start of the real harm Euphoria overlooks by treating the R-word like casual slang. Some people will say this is just how people talk now. That’s exactly the problem. Pop culture helps decide what’s normal enough to repeat. When Euphoria folds the R-word into ordinary dialogue week after week, it’s not just reflecting culture, it’s helping to shape it.
Disability advocates have spent years fighting to push this word out of mainstream use. They were largely successful, spurred by legal advances such as Rosa’s Law, but now it’s raging back into our society's vernacular. When someone uses the R-word as an insult or joke, they’re equating disability with something negative or worthless. That reinforces stereotypes that people with disabilities spend their lives confronting. This can make bullying feel normal. This can also make it easier for people to dismiss and underestimate people with disabilities in community life.
More than 8.5 million people in the US have an intellectual or developmental disability. They are part of Euphoria’s audience. Young people deserve better than a show that makes the R-word feel normal again. People with disabilities deserve better than being made to feel as though respect and dignity for them don’t matter.
Ricky Broussard, an advocate with cerebral palsy, has put it clearly: “Using this word goes backwards. The younger generation should go forward. I want to see them have an easier time than I had. It is time to finally bury the R-word.”
Katy Neas is the chief executive officer of The Arc of the United States, a national nonprofit that advocates for and supports people with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD) and their families. She leads The Arc’s national office in Washington, DC, and a network of 549 state and local chapters across the US. She is a national leader on disability rights and inclusion, including how policy and public attitudes shape daily life for people with disabilities and families.
