Rejecting Labels, Redefining Alterhumanity, and Redirecting My Focus...
Most often, the thought and topic of alterhumanity centers around its definition as an umbrella term, despite knowing that it is also much more than that. Alterhumanity can and does transcend all of the communities it covers under it. As a separate term, it describes phenomena beyond and including those like otherkinity, otherheartness, plurality, linking, transhumanism, daemonism, etc. Identifying as alterhuman can mean many things, the context in which someone is alterhuman is vague unless specified, so why do we assume, or rather associate, alterhumans with being part of the umbrella? When and how did this divergence from its complete definition happen?
The way I've approached my own alterhumanity has been flawed for many years; and I talk about this more in my last post (Experiences Fading After Labeling) as well as in other posts I've written. To put it simply, I have concerned myself more with labels than actually living with my experiences. Experiencing something means I have to label it, a compulsion I seem to have no control over. I am a very complex person - at least to myself - and I find that I am more of a collection of undiscovered galaxies than a series of molecules that can be studied under a microscope. For me, the process of labeling has always involved bending over backwards, exhausting myself and all resources I can find, bleeding, sweating, crying, compromising certain details of myself, and nearly drowning in the effort. I have been contemplating whether it's all actually worth the result anymore. Or even if it ever was. When I really think about why I feel like labels are so important to me, I can only come up with four reasons:
First, my brain is an utter disaster and labels help me organize the mess. When everything is being whipped around in a tornado, labels give the debris a place to land so I can analyze, attend to and hold onto it better. It's a comfort to know I can find what I need to in its proper place and not have to dig around in a heap of clutter and chaos.
Second, I have a hard time communicating. Articulating how I feel and what I mean to other people takes a lot longer for me to accomplish, and most - if not all - of the time, I am still not satisfied with how I've presented what I've written or said. Writing is a lot easier because I have more time to think and revise my words, but I still struggle to focus and keep my thoughts in order. Labels are helpful when words fail me and my thoughts are too jumbled to express.
Third, uncertainty is extremely scary for me. I think this is a purely psychological thing and stems from my trauma and mental illnesses. There is something threatening in the unknown. Something uncomfortable about confusion. When I feel a lack of control, my anxiety spikes, I feel like I'm in fight or flight; like being in a Halloween horror house. Labels are answers and they bring some relief to the constant state of suspense I'm in.
And lastly, for whatever reason, and maybe like my last point, I feel like I have something to prove. In a community that is very label-centric, talking about your experiences without the use of labels typically results in comments that try to force a label onto them. Which I think ultimately comes from the belief that labeling things and knowing community language equates to being an older, more knowledgeable and prominent member in the community. So when I label things, it's a way to say, "look, see, I know this word, I know it applies to me because I did my research and I spent a lot of time introspecting, I am valid now, I can prove it", even though I know how absolutely unnecessary that is.
Only the first two things could ever possibly be worth all the stress I've self induced. Realizing that I smother and suffocate my experiences with labels simply because to do otherwise is scary and makes me seem like a lesser member of the communities is absurd to me. No one said the journey would be easy, but I am not fully aware that I have made it harder for myself. Which is why I have made the decision to reject labels almost entirely and redirect my focus on redefining what alterhumanity means to me.
My personal alterhumanity is ambiguous; it can be defined both by the terms under its umbrella and as an identity of its own. I have simply only ever fixed my attention on the ways I can define it under the umbrella. Since first awakening, I have used many terms to describe myself: therian, otherkin, otherhearted, daemian, furry, just to name a few. They have held, and still do hold, a special place in my heart because of the things I have learned from them and the people I have met through them. They brought me closure and reassurance, comfort and support through community. But as I get older, observing more and more the negative affect that the labeling process has had on me, I feel myself being pulled further and further away from them. I'm starting to understand that while I fit the definitions of these terms, they are truly not worth the damage I inflict upon myself during the labeling process.
The state of my alterhumanity does not allow for me to continue on the path I've been on. It requires gentle hands to set it free from the cage I've locked it in, for it has become withered and fragile with the beatings it's taken, the beatings I gave it. I have spent years refusing to let it grow, to let it become exactly what it is, and because of that I have suffered for it. I know I am alterhuman. I know that there are parts of me that are animal and that defy humanity. I know that I do not connect with humans on the same level as I do with animals and I know that trying to call myself 100% human feels untrue. It does not embody the whole of me. The feelings surrounding my humanity are not shared by other humans, and if given the choice, I would willingly strip away everything that makes me human. The experiences I have are not understood or accepted by humans; they see them as strange, delusional, a cry for attention. I feel dysphoria with the species of my body. Having the shape of a human is useful for some of the things I enjoy, but being stuck in a body that feels less like your own and more like one you're renting isn't how I would have wanted to live this life.
Knowing that I am alterhuman should be enough. It should have always been enough. Instead I missed out on a lot of opportunities for growth because I prioritized the wrong things. But I think recognizing this in myself is a good way to start on my new journey. Acknowledging that what I was doing has not served me in a positive way is an important first step in letting myself exist as I am and develop into who I will be. If eliminating all but a few labels - the ones that serve a much greater purpose and do benefit me more than hurt me - from my vocabulary is what needs to happen for me to finally accept myself completely, then I want to work really hard to do that.
