April 28, 2015
So, what’s it like being a dragon? I could write novels upon novels about this, but I’ll save you the time and try to keep it short.
The classic image of a western/European dragon is one of evil, fire, rage, and greed; of kidnapping princesses and hoarding treasure. The classic western dragon burns down villages and slays heroic knights as a hobby. It is cold-blooded, vile, and destructive. But draconity is not about that. In fact, it’s not about any of those things.
When I feel the most draconic, I don’t want to burn down villages, steal treasure, or kidnap anyone. I don’t feel the need to challenge knights in shining armor, nor do I feel the need to eat little children. I like gold and gems, sure, but my affinity for precious metals, gems, and knick-knacks is likely not even a draconic trait, and it baffles me why so many newly awakened dragons feel the need to start hoarding every shiny thing they see. I thoroughly enjoy collecting rocks on the beach, going to gem shows, and buying tiny animal figurines, but I don’t have a giant hoard, nor do I sit atop it and challenge anyone who comes near it. No, draconity is not about that.
Dragons are often shown as powerful creatures in the books, games, and movies. Nearly every fantasy game end-boss I can think of is some sort of massive dragon-like creature. I don’t doubt that many dragonkin would like to see themselves as powerful or not-to-be-trifled-with (myself included). Yet, even though I’ve longed to be a dragon for almost two decades, I do not want to proclaim from the rooftops that I’m a dragon and that all should bow before me (in fact, I’d prefer those around me not know about my draconity at all). I do not want slaves to wait on me hand and foot, nor do I want to be the supreme ruler of anything. No, draconity is not about that.
What IS draconity about, then? Draconity is an animal inside that cannot get out, a longing for a place I’ve never been, and the need to do things I cannot do. Draconity is confusing, frustrating, and isolating. Draconity is waking up in the morning in a body that doesn’t fit right and doesn’t move like it should; a body that is missing parts and is misshapen and uncomfortable. Draconity is lonely because to tell someone you are a dragon is to get laughed at and whispered about. Draconity is agony when nothing helps calm the animal inside screaming to get out.
Draconity isn’t cute or fluffy, despite what social media has to say about it, but it’s not all bad. Over the years, I’ve come to realize my draconity has enriched my life immensely. I lean much more to the scientific side of things (versus a more spiritual mindset), but exploring my draconity and reading what others have to say on the subject has made me understand how others see their draconity/otherkinity/therianthropy (as well as other aspects of their lives) as a spiritual thing. I think it has also made me more empathetic in regard to things that are not accepted as social norms, because feeling the need to be a dragon is in no way socially normal.
Exploring my draconity means exploring my mind and analyzing what I find, and as a result, I’ve discovered a lot about myself unrelated to my draconity, including the discovery that I’m intensely introverted, that I do not fit within the gender binary, and that I always need to be doing something productive to feel like I’m spending my time well. I’m a naturally artistic person, and I love to create, but I’m not typically very motivated to do so. My draconity has given me something I care enough about to clear my mental cobwebs and create things based off of my experiences. My draconity has pushed me to explore activities I likely wouldn’t have become interested in otherwise, like learning about animal anatomy, teaching myself how to cook a decent steak (still no luck there…), and napping on the floor in the sun (probably the best thing ever). I experience my draconity from a more animalistic standpoint (less "dragons as beings of magic and power" and more "dragons as just another animal”), and I think this view has pushed me to learn more about animal behavior than I would have otherwise. I’m sure it has affected far more aspects of my life that I haven’t discovered yet. Overall, it has helped construct who I am as a person, and despite the downsides, I don’t think I would give up my draconity if I ever had the chance.