tangyabominy: (Default)
[personal profile] tangyabominy
I sometimes feel like, explaining to people why I feel a pull to the whole otherkin concept, they'd think I'm going about it the wrong way. I feel strongly connected to the concept, to the idea of not being human, but I don't know what I would be - and putting it like that is enough to make people think, oh, you just don't want to be human, you're doing this for angsty self-loathing reasons.

But it's not quite like that, either. I know what the angsty "I don't wanna be human, waah waaah" head-chant feels like - I've had that at times in my life, too - and it's a layer on top of this concept, a superficial skin. It's an isolated thing, an intellectual complaining, and it doesn't explain the deep-down gut feeling that keeps drawing me back to the concept, and always has, ever since I discovered it. It's not, really, about feeling that human is "wrong"; I don't even feel that so much, any more. It is a positive, a sensation of feeling that "other" is right. It's just a positive that has no distinct anchor, no distinct form, other than to note that I'm pulled to the concept itself. That tingle of rightness that, perhaps, some of you feel when encountering pictures of dragons or angels, I felt on first encountering otherkin sites, and still do.

This sounds bad, but I've always been compelled by people's stories of longing for change in their bodies - whether those were people's accounts of being transgender, or of having BIID, or what-have-you. Something about the concept speaks to me, internally, makes me feel kinship. I don't even feel like bodily transformation is even, necessarily, what I'm searching for myself when I look at these stories, although I sure wouldn't pass on a dragon form (and perhaps that says more about me than I know). I'm not so connected to my body that I care as much as others might. I can't even describe what it is, really. When I try to analyse it, I fall flat. When I ask myself, "what's really making me feel this way, in stories about otherkin?", it's like looking at a story about someone going to the grocery store and trying to find the deeper meaning: the story is the meaning, and when I try to peer deeper within it, there's nothing there.

I just know that from the moment I came across the concept, it was real to me, and I sympathised, and couldn't stop wanting to drink in the words of those who believed themselves to be Other; and I still can't. It sounds voyeuristic, and it's really not meant that way; it's a feeling of having found home, but I don't have any words to explain what's homelike about it, unlike other people in the community. It's not that I feel my connection is less real, but like the words for why have been stripped out of my mouth.
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