Kin History: An Introduction
Is being otherkin a mental illness? Did fictionkin “appropriate” otherkin’s culture? Is it possible to be “royalkin,” or otherwise have a non-fictional type of human as your kintype? What are the moral implications of factkinning? Is it okay to kin a character who is outside of your race or ability? Do otherkin hurt trans people by existing?
There are many questions you could ask. So many questions I’ve been asked as I’ve started developing this series. The ones above are just a small selection, I could go on — for instance, one of my favorite questions was about when fictionkinning went from being a serious “no doubles” affair to what people are calling “kinnies” today. Some of them can be answered today, some need a space all of their own. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
What even is kinning, anyway?
What even is kinning, anyway?
The specifics of it depend on who you ask, but the most basic description of kinning is identifying as or with something or someone other than yourself. For otherkin, this will usually be something non-human, such as a cat, a dragon, an elf, etc. For fictionkin, it’s a fictional character, human or otherwise. Rather than being kin of cats generally, for instance, one might be fictionkin of Garfield in particular. For factkin, it’s a real person.
Though the concept has been around for much longer, the term “otherkin” — first otherkind, a distinction from elfinkind — came about in the 1990s. According to an e-mail quoted by Orion Scribner in Otherkin Timeline: The Recent History of Elfin, Fae, and Animal People (pg. 25):
“First use of the word ‘otherkind’ is in Elfinkind Digest #16, dated 18 April 1990, coined in quotes as a term to include non-elf ‘others’ cropping up on the list, and was a specific branching off from the word ‘elfinkind.’ There was later some talk of renaming the digest to ‘The Otherkind Digest’ but that didn’t happen.”
The word “fictionkin” didn’t come around until later, around 2004.
Whether the individual believes themselves to actually be their kintype(s) or just relates to and identifies with them depends on the person. Even among those who believe themselves to actually be, to keep the current example going, cats, the reasons they believe that vary widely.
One common belief cited by other- and fictionkin is that of reincarnation, that they were their kintype in a past life. Some may have memories of those lives. Similarly, some believe they have the soul of their kintype, but were placed in the wrong body. Others still say their bodies are, currently, that of their kins, and that no part of them is human, regardless of their appearance. Any of these people may experience phantom appendages (tails, wings, horns, etc.), feel a strong desire to partake in activities associated with their kin(s), and/or be in environments similar to their kintype’s natural habitat.
Whatever the belief, those who believe themselves to be their kintypes, rather than just relating to them, tend to be unified by a feeling of displacement. Many ‘kin describe frustration with their human bodies not having the same abilities as the ones they remember, or being too big or too small. They may feel like they don’t understand human society, like social cues just don’t make sense. What happened to social grooming? What is all this small talk about the weather when we should be out running in the forest together?
On the other hand, many ‘kin just identify with their kintypes, rather than as. They treat their kins like anyone else might a Patronus from Harry Potter, or a dæmon from His Dark Materials. They see themselves in their kintype(s), but don’t consider themselves to be or have been them in a literal sense. They may have similar traits to their kin(s), or they might represent the types of traits the person would like to have. These people aren’t disqualified from the shared feeling of a lack of belonging, but it’s less common than with the other ‘kins.
Is kinning a mental illness?
Reading the description of people who consider themselves to be their kintypes, you might be noting similarities to some diagnoses. You might be thinking that ‘kin are delusional, psychotic, maybe have developmental disorders. So, is that the case?
No. Not inherently, at least.
I’m no psychologist, but I’ve been to quite a few and done my own research. My psychiatrist has referred to me as “well-read,” to give you an idea of my qualifications. Something that is very important to understand about being diagnosed with a mental illness is this: it’s not enough to just have symptoms; they have to cause you distress or impairment.
Everyone with an anxiety disorder, my obsessive-compulsive self included, has heard the words “everyone gets anxious sometimes” at some point in their lives. People say this to discount our experiences, say we’re not actually experiencing anything all that bad. But today, I’ll be using it to do the opposite. It’s true, everyone gets anxious sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with being nervous about an exam or first date. The difference between anxiety and an anxiety disorder is that the anxiety causes a significant disruption to your life.
What does this have to do with kinning?
Yes, some otherkin may experience psychosis. Their kintypes may be a direct result of their delusions, even. Some fictionkin are autistic or have ADHD. But unless being ‘kin is causing them distress and/or impairing their function, that’s not why. Calling all ‘kin mentally ill undercuts what mental illness really is — it’s not a set of symptoms, it’s a functional impairment. If all ‘kin are mentally ill because they experience symptoms that are part of the diagnostic criteria of mental illness, everyone who ever gets anxious has generalized anxiety disorder.
Are otherkin trans(phobic)?
If you weren’t noticing parallels between diagnostic criteria, you might have been noticing parallels between how some ‘kin describe their relationships with their bodies and how some trans people describe their relationships with their bodies. So, you’re probably having one of a few reactions, if this is a new concept to you:
- These people are just trans folks in denial.
- These people are diminishing the efforts of trans people in fighting transphobia.
- These people are perfect ammunition to use against trans people.
If you’re the third one, yikes. If you’re the first or second one, I get where you’re coming from, so let’s examine that.
Are ‘kin, otherkin in particular, trans? In some cases, yes, absolutely. I know many trans otherkin myself, and it’s not particularly difficult to see how gender dysphoria could be translated to “species dysphoria.” Are all otherkin trans people in denial? Is being otherkin just a stepping stone to realizing your gender identity? On the whole, no. There’s no sweeping statement about ‘kin that you could make with complete certainty. Some are transgender, some are cisgender. Just like any community, there’s a lot of diversity!
What about transphobic? Some people assert that otherkin are trying to de-legitimize trans activism by advocating for their right to be legally identified as a rabbit, or a plant, or so on. Do otherkin cause trans people to be taken less seriously? It’s an understandable concern, especially if you remember the uproar in 2015 around Rachel Dolezal, which sparked rampant misuse of the word transracial. But the anger is misplaced.
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No otherkin wants a marker on their license to show that they’re plantkin. No otherkin wants college applications to include a drop-down menu of kintypes for diversifying their campus. So, who advocates for that? Trolls.
And not trollkin, either, good ol’, classic internet trolls. People with nothing better to do decided that being otherkin was silly and wasted a lot of time trying to make ‘kin look bad. A pretty embarrassing amount (for them) of the posts on r/otherkringe are troll posts, such as “A rare moment of rabbitkin acceptance,” “i swallow my mom’s diamond but she doesn’t understand??” and “factkin and why it’s not bad — a psa,” to name a few.
What about factkin?
Now, you’ve probably noticed that I mentioned factkin around the start, but have mostly dropped them for the rest of the article. Otherkin and fictionkin are getting a lot of love here, but factkin have been largely left in the dust. What’s that about?
To refresh your memory, factkinning is when you identify as or with a real person who isn’t yourself. These real people tend to be historical figures and celebrities, though they can be anyone, including close personal friends and relatives of the factkin.
Factkinning is controversial, to say the least. Though a significant amount of “factkins” have been trolls, there are those who are genuine in their kinning of a real person. Their reasoning for their kintypes are similarly numerous, reincarnation chief among them for those who kin people who have already passed away.
It can be easy to see how someone might kin a fictionalized account of a real person. There was a spike in people kinning the Founding Fathers, for instance, after Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton became such a phenomenon. When you’re caught up in solving a problem like Maria, it’s not hard to see how someone could see themself in Baroness Maria von Trapp. It’s easy to forget in all of the showmanship and lyricism that these were real people, who led real lives.
What about those who kin celebrities who are still alive today? Often, fictionalization can still be what we point to, though in a different form. Parasocial relationships are the one-sided relationships that we have where we feel as though we know people, such as internet personalities, actors, politicians, and even fictional characters, that we have never met in reality. Jennifer Lynn Barnes said, in her talk Imaginary friends and real-world consequences: parasocial relationships at TEDxOU:
“But we also form parasocial relationships with real people we don’t know. People like celebrities and politicians. So, for example, if you read a lot about England’s royal family, you may feel as though you know [Kate Middleton]. You saw her get married, you’ve watched her through two pregnancies — People Magazine keeps you very up-to-date on her day-to-day life.
And, of course, since this is 2015, we don’t just keep track of these people through traditional media, but we see them on social media as well. So, for example, you might follow Taylor Swift on Twitter. […] you get to see Taylor talking about her favorite movies, you get to see her talking about members of her family and their sense of humor, and you’re probably combining that information with other information. Stuff like song lyrics, interviews she’s given, speeches she’s given, pictures of her cat. And, over time, you may come to feel as though you really, really know Taylor Swift.”
The versions of celebrities that we see are not the full story. They’re often idealized, the good parts dialed up and the bad parts dialed down. As our culture shifts and more consumers value their public figures appearing vulnerable and relatable, more public figures have adapted their presentations of themselves to fit this. In a way, we see a character based on them, similar to how a historical figure might be portrayed in an episode of Doctor Who.
What’s the big deal?
The majority of the rest of Dr. Barnes’ talk focuses on parasocial relationships with fictional characters, and I mentioned them in my earlier definition, which raises an interesting question: why isn’t fictionkinning as controversial, in the kin community, as factkin? It’s parasocial relationships all the way down, so what’s the big deal?
The most pressing issue is this: the risk it poses to the target of the parasocial interaction. People can feel extremely entitled to the attention and energy of those they factkin, and harassment isn’t uncommon. Those familiar with Tumblr’s fictionkin community from around 2014–2017 will shudder at the words “no doubles,” a concept that isn’t foreign to factkin, either. I’ve seen people be targeted with intense harassment for kinning Peridot from Steven Universe at the same time as one of their mutual followers. What happens when the person “pretending to be you” actually is your kin?
Though, to my knowledge, there haven’t been any violent attacks directly tied to factkinning, these kinds of intense parasocial relationships have caused serious harm in the past. Considering yourself to be someone and considering yourself to be in a relationship with them are two sides of the same coin, and sadly, we aren’t unfamiliar with deaths and injuries stemming from that coin.
In 2016, YouTuber and singer-songwriter Christina Grimmie was shot and killed by an infatuated fan. In 2018, Meg Turney and Gavin Free had their home broken into by a man who allegedly wrote that he wanted Free to die alone, with no children, due to his obsession with Turney. I’m 1989, Rebecca Schaeffer was shot by a fan who had stalked her for three years, a murder that caused changes in privacy legislation for not only California, but the whole of the United States.
In some cases, kinning people can also minimize the amount of harm they caused in their lives. Are we okay with people kinning King George because of Hamilton, when in reality he was, well, King George? There’s a disparity in opinion on kinning fictional murderers as well, but there’s a world of difference between kinning Pennywise and kinning John Wayne Gacy, who took the real lives of thirty-three victims.
And none of that acknowledges the possible harms to the factkin themself. Basing your identity around a celebrity is generally inadvisable, and much more so than basing it around a fictional character. Public figures are real, living beings, who have lives outside of what we see. They’re fallible, flawed, just like you or I. Maybe you kin Ron Weasley and you’re outraged that he married Hermione in the epilogues. That’s fine, you can ignore that bit. It’s not real. But if you kin J.K. Rowling? You can’t ignore her transmisogyny. That’s not fiction, it has real consequences on real people. And the grief that that causes is legitimate and soul-crushing.
Parasocial relationships are unavoidable, but we should try not to compound it if we can help it.
What about factives?
I’ve already said that all ‘kin aren’t mentally ill, and I’m not about to backpedal and say that factkin actually are. I am, however, going to bring it back to mental illness for a bit.
Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID, is described by Mayo Clinic as “characterized by ‘switching’ to alternate identities. […] Each identity may have a unique name, personal history and characteristics, including obvious differences in voice, gender, mannerisms and even such physical qualities as the need for eyeglasses.” A person with DID is known as a “system,” and those within their system are called “alters.” A system is not capable of deciding when or how its alters form. Now, why do I bring this up?
Alters can form from multiple sources, but two that are often discussed at the same time as kinning are introjects, or alters that are based off a single outside source. A fictional introject, or fictive, is an alter that, when formed, modeled itself after a fictional character. A factive, on the other hand, is an alter that modeled itself after a real person. Compared to factkin, it’s much more likely for a factive to be someone the system knows personally, especially an abuser or caretaker.
It’s pretty clear from how I discussed factkinning that I’m personally against it. Do I share this view about factives, as well?
No. Introjects into a system are not someone choosing to identify with a real person, or a parasocial relationship gone wrong. Alters form for a reason, typically when the system is under a great deal of stress. It’s not remotely comparable.
In conclusion
The kinmmunity, as I like to call it (much to the dismay of all of my friends), has a longer history than most give it credit for. Even disregarding earlier related communities that didn’t call themselves ‘kin yet, the word “otherkind” has existed for nearly thirty-one years, now. That’s a far cry from the commonly held belief of it being invented by teenagers on Tumblr in 2012.
There are no general statements you can make about all people who kin, whether that be a religious affiliation/belief, gender identity, sexuality, or anything else. It’s a community that’s as diverse as the rest of the world, and the only thing that’s sure about all ‘kin is that they’re all connected by the fact that they’re ‘kin. Like the otherkin seven-pointed star, we’re all connected. How lovely!
