Bartering with Labels, or Why I Call Myself Transspecies

Sivaan of Candlekeep

September 24th, 2024

Disclaimer: I am aware that the term "transspecies" has become heavily associated with the subculture known as radqueers. I am not a part of this subculture. Do not use any of my writings on being transspecies in association with this subulture or its discourses. The transspecies community has existed before this subculture, and I advise that visitors avoid conflating either group unless someone individually states otherwise.

I see ascribing labels to oneself like bartering in a role-playing game. It’s a transaction to me. Sometimes, I loot items that I think will be worth my while. When I find that they won’t be of much importance to me, I barter with a shopkeeper and get something else in exchange. In the case of a role-playing game, it’s usually money as it is act of selling said loot to them. However, in the case of labels, I simply go about my life until I eventually find something that actually speaks to me. If successful, I hold it close to me in this quest called life.

One of the most interesting parts of self-exploration is the linguistics of it. Putting a word to what you are is a common practice. It is a formality born of social categorization, yet this formality is actively sought out and explored by many. Of course, this feeling is not universal as plenty of others find no use in labels. Regardless, I’ve always been intrigued by the significance (or lack thereof) of identity terms.

In context to species, I originally settled with polykin and polytherian as my main labels. After all, otherkin and therian had been the main alterhuman identities that I knew of in my younger years. At the time of my awakening, it only made sense that I used as each of these labels for myself with no consideration for other options. This was also before I understood myself as a polymorph, thus I had been clinging to polykin and polytherian until I reached that point. While I do apply to them to a degree, I realized over time that there were other labels that I felt better reflected my being. It was only natural that I explored them too. For the past couple of months, I’ve felt more comfortable in using the general term alterhuman for myself. From my ontoplanarity to my place as a soulbonder and a dæmian respectively, the label covers many bases for my personal identity. The more I realized this, the more comfortable I got with broadly identifying as alterhuman. I compare the comfort that I feel in broadly identifying as alterhuman to the same comfort I feel in broadly identifying as Black or transgender. While there are plenty of ways for one to fall within these communities, I take great pride in being a part of them in general. Aside from pride, it’s the simple fact that I am of these demographics and feel that they are worth recognizing. If I am to emphasize on any experiences that my being entails, these would be some of the most relevant ones.

Alright. So, you’re alterhuman. But if otherkin and therian didn’t suit you, how did you figure your label(s) in a species context?

Narrowing down the specifics can really throw people through a loop when it comes to labels. That’s why some folks don’t bother with them, and I get that completely. There are moments where I want to say “I am what I am! That’s all that matters!” and leave it at that. Plenty of folks live long, happy lives without attaching terms to what they experience. That said, I knew early on that I wasn’t one of those folks. To each their own, as the saying goes.

In recent time, I’ve found that transspecies is the most fitting term to describe my relationship with my being. As someone who is transmasculine and genderqueer, I drew from my experiences with exploring my gender and compared them to how I felt about my species.

A notable similarity that they shared stems from my childhood distaste for being told what I am. Above all else, I hated being told how I should behave and present myself based on what I was told. I hated being told that I shouldn’t do this or wear that because “I am a female”. This same feeling carried over in regards to being told that “I am not an animal” or that “Normal people don’t do this”. In short, I was left with much to catch up on after being denied the opportunity to explore myself as a child. Another similarity was the constant shift between labels. When I came out to my friends as transgender, I didn’t automatically know that I am transmasculine and genderqueer. I knew I was somewhere under the umbrella of nonbinary identity, but simply calling myself nonbinary didn’t feel right. This dedication to intricately detailing myself translated across species as well. Just like terms for my gender, I spent a lot of time searching through different terms that could describe my relationship with species. I tease myself a lot for my fixation on specifics, but even so, pursuing these specifics mattered a great deal to me.

I think what made transspecies really click for me as a label was its openness. It all comes down to how you understand yourself. Only you can determine that, no one else. I appreciated that kind of approach while figuring things out as I felt less attached to otherkin and therian as labels. Now, of course, there are the aspects of wanting to modify one’s body to appear closer to their species and feeling out of place in a human body. However, much like my relationship with gender, it was not physical changes nor negative associations with how I felt in a human body that drew me to identifying as such. I simply am what I am and want to express that.

My journeys with gender and species respectively reflected each other in ways that made the label feel natural. I transitioned into being transmasculine and genderqueer because I never felt “like a female” as the adults in my life would say. The boxes of “man” or “woman” never spoke to me. Instead, what drew me to genderqueerness was the emphasis on rejecting assimilation through one’s identity. In terms of personal experience, how one deconstructed the binary and its boxes was determined by you and you alone. That’s all I ever asked for. That’s how I knew this represented me.

How I go about deconstructing gender involves examining where it stands with my overall personhood, ranging from sexuality to disability. Above all, my race and culture is what fleshes out this relationship the most. My understanding of gender is rooted in my place as a boi, as a transmasc of soul, as someone whose blackness is intrinsically connected to my queerness. My rejection of the binary is forged from my exposure to the same antiblack society that placed these boxes on me. When it’s all said and done, this is how I experience gender. I compromise myself for no one, not when it’d only put me back where I started. On the flip side, one can say I transitioned into my draconity and polymorphism because both laid dormant inside of me. As a teenager, I denied these parts of me because I was raised to see myself as completely, undeniably human when I am not. Orthohumanity felt just as restrictive as cisnormativity, only without the marginalization that happens once one identifies outside of it. I am so much more than what I am perceived as. It was up until I entered adulthood that I decided to pursue who I am on the basis of species. Is it pure coincidence that I embarked on this pursuit while exploring my gender identity? Maybe so. Coincidence or not, a lot was changing for me on an intimate level.

As things fell into place, I knew that my alterhumanity would also intricately connect with my other identities. Quite recently, I discussed the significance of my race while being alterhuman in “Alterhumanity in Color: Exploring Racial Identity Outside of Orthohumanity”. As informal as this writing is, this is a similar discussion but in context to gender. More importantly, I examine the significance that labeling has had on my gender and species. I am transgender. I am transspecies. I came into this world packaged into boxes that were sealed a little too tightly for my liking. I tried to make it work. I tried to fitting into them as best as I could, but I hated being confined to the standards of people who barely even knew me. It is through these terms that I make space for myself, something that I couldn’t do in my earlier years.

That is why I am transspecies.

The more I’ve sat with the term, the more it felt right.

For a lack of better words, it’s like rummaging through your inventory and finding an item that’s actually helpful in the long run. Now, you don’t need to discard it through bartering. You don’t need to go through the tediousness of looting for more items to fill up space. You finally have something to fill that space. It’s one less thing you have to worry about. Everything else will settle in place over time. It’s best not to sweat things outside of your experience, either. In my case, old discourses surrounding the term are irrelevant to me. I clarify what I mean by “I am transspecies”, always including the fact that I have no part in radqueer spaces or the discourses about them. I find discourse on social media to be annoying and exhausting anyway, so I don’t sweat it when it comes to labeling myself.

I am an alterhuman— a transspecies alterhuman. End of.

I could get into other labels that are relative to my species, such as draconic and fractic, but that’d be opening a whole new can of worms in this discussion. With that in mind, I’m satisfied with what I’ve discussed so far. I will leave at that until next time.