I'm extremely distressed about writing this despite the fact that I don't think anyone will bother to give me any backlash.

For those of you who’ve never been on Tumblr (or Reddit, or… the internet…), Otherkin are a subset of people who identify with or as a nonhuman entity, such as a wolf, elf, fictional character, etc.. Despite this being ultimately a harmless belief in the hearts of some people, I’ve seen more discourse surrounding why Otherkin are horrible and shouldn’t exist than the Otherkin themselves celebrating themselves or really being outgoing or ostentatious about being Otherkin at all. They just exist and then get bashed.

The first part of why I don’t understand how people are so against this idea/feeling is because it didn’t initially grow out of Tumblr social justice warrior culture, which many people blame Otherkin on, at all, but rather out of white male RPG nerd culture, starting off in online Elven communities in the early nineties. While adopting a role in an RPG (at this time, tabletop or live action), some community members felt they overly identified with their Elven or Dragonian or Lycanthrope counterparts, and thus Usenet boards and email lists circulating otherkin newsletters were born. Twelve year olds infected with the non-existent “Special Snowflake Syndrome” weren’t responsible for setting up forums and circulating content; young adults who wanted to share their experiences were. The community was respected partially as an offset of RPG culture, partially as early-nineties teenagers finding their way in an evolving technological/environmental climate.

The second part to my astonishment is that 99% of Otherkin communities are filled with people using their Otherkin identities to cope with their mental illness(es), which is an important and healthy pursuit and one that I share. I am by far not the majority case, but neither am I alone in this: with Major Depressive Disorder, getting out of a cycle of two emotions--sadness and nothingness--takes creativity. For a long time, the place I was exclusively happy was the beach, any beach at any time. I shuffled through the snow and sloshed into the water in my winter boots, punched my hand through the surface of a frozen lake to touch the water, lay in the waves while it rained and listened to the thunderclaps. Those were the only times I felt whole and happy and that what I was experiencing had to be real. I realized I was Waterkin. One thing about my mental illness finally felt more bearable. Others cope using their Otherkin identities in similar and different ways, and I, for one, am so happy they’re finding something that works for them.