It wasn’t easy to win custody of my son. Especially since that damn documentary came out.
I’m sure you’ve seen it by now. I’m an outspoken advocate for otherkin rights.
I successfully fought a discrimination suit in Pittsburgh that won me the right to express my wolf-kin nature at work.
I consider it a fundamental personal and religious freedom.
After all, my decision to wear a tail and clip-on ears doesn’t diminish my ability to sort through tax returns any more than wearing a crucifix or a headscarf would. The courts agreed.
But the court of public opinion is a different matter entirely, and it took almost eight months of legal wrangling to get my son out of my ex-wife’s toxic home.
What kind of world do we live in where a court would rather hand a child to a drunk than a wolf-soul?
Discrimination against my kind runs deep – from Little Red Riding Hood and Peter and the Wolf on up. Wolves are pretty famously great parents. Has no one ever read the Jungle Book?
Anyway, in the end, I came out on top. I proudly wore my tail and ears to the final hearing, and carried my boy to the car through a sea of camera flashes.
Now, finally, I can be the parent he deserves.
He’s an otherkin, too. I can tell by his scent.
He doesn’t talk much yet. He can’t tell me exactly what flavor of being he is. But he prefers crawling to walking, and he refuses to eat with a spoon.
I gently force him to when we’re in public, for the cameras’ sake. At home, he’s free to snuffle and snort in his mashed potatoes all he likes.
I’ve even started on his first real fur suit. My early attempts were crude. I basically just sewed him up in a de-stuffed teddy bear. I can only imagine how that would look on film.
I don’t want my son to have to face the discrimination I did. I don’t want the world to force him to take off the accoutrements of his true being whenever he goes out in public.
I frankly don’t want the world to be able to tell him to take off his ears or his tail.
I can only do the basics until he can tell me what he really is.
I’ve sewn the tips of his ears together into little triangular points, being careful to keep the swab the stitches with alcohol each day to keep them clean.
I’ve filed the few tiny teeth he has to points. That process is going to have to be repeated, eventually, but he’ll be old enough by then to do it himself.
And work continues on attaching the tail. I’ve tried glue, staples and stitches thus far, but all for naught. I’m going to have to find something more permanent.
In the end, the world will have no choice but to accept him for what he really is.