Exploring Identity and Neurodiversity

Hi everyone,

I’d like to open a careful and respectful discussion around a concept I’ve come across called “species dysphoria.” 
It’s not a recognized medical or psychological diagnosis, but rather a speculative or philosophical idea involving a mismatch between one’s identity and being human.
I want to be very clear:
  • This is not being presented as a clinical condition.
  • I’m sharing it as a thought experiment to explore how identity, neurodiversity, and self-perception intersect.
  • I recognize that autistic individuals may engage deeply with abstract or niche ideas, and I want to ensure this conversation remains grounded, safe, and open to critical thinking.
If this topic feels uncomfortable or confusing, please feel free to skip it.
And if you do choose to engage, I’d love to hear your thoughts—whether skeptical, curious, or critical.
Let’s keep it thoughtful and kind. 
Regards,
Packet(a96ddb is my color)
Parents
  • I’m sharing it as a thought experiment to explore how identity, neurodiversity, and self-perception intersect.

    It would be useful to know the parameters of the experiment if it is to have any meaningful analysis.

    There is some explanation of how these shoud work here:

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thought_experiment

    It is often an experiment that would be hard, impossible, or unethical to actually perform

    I imagine it will be hard to conduct as there are few controls around the experiment and the output from people is quite untestable.

    A few factors to help clean up the parameters:

    1 - Can it just be a species we identify as or can it be another "thing" such as an artificial intelligence, a robot, a god etc.

    2 - Are we constricted to existing species? How about extinct ones (I had a nepher who identified as a dinosaur for a while)?

    3 - Do the species have to be real? How about elves, dwarves, sprites etc? Aliens could fall into this category as we cannot prove they exist yet.

    4 - can we be a hybrid? a werewolf (or werehamster), cyborg, shapeshifter etc?

    5 - does it need to be all the time? I have some friends who love to identify as something else at plushy parties so if being a dog for a few hours counts then this broadens the scope.

    If this topic feels uncomfortable or confusing

    This is to help clear up the confusion as autists often struggle with vague definitions.

    An interesting topic and it could be enlightening to see the responses.

  • Hello, and thank you for your many detailed responses. I’ve chosen this one to focus on, as it aligns most closely with my original thought process and I’d like to clarify a few points.
    Initially, I was approaching the concept of species dysphoria as a sense of disconnect from one’s assigned species at birth.
    This doesn’t necessarily mean one has identified a preferred species, and that identity may not be fixed over time.
    In my case, I’m narrowing the scope to existing species—those that are within the realm of biological or synthetic possibility. To better define the parameters I’m considering:
    1. Conceivable Existence: The species should be one that could plausibly exist, acknowledging that our current scientific understanding may be incomplete.
    2. Extinct Species: With advancements in genetic engineering, it may become feasible to identify with extinct species, provided sufficient DNA samples are available.
    3. Cognitive Compatibility: The species should be capable of hosting human-like intellect, even if it doesn’t currently exist. This could be a future aspiration.
    4. Hybrids: Hybrid species are a valid consideration within this framework.
    5. Species Fluidity: Identification may not be constant—some individuals might experience fluidity in their species identity over time.
  • Maybe this is the Autist in me typing, but ... what? Is this just one of those, "If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?" kind of things? I genuinely don't know what the point is in having a "careful and respectful discussion around [that] concept". What's the goal here? What are we trying to learn? What makes it worth any investment of time?

    This is normally the point where people point at me and tell me I'm being "rude". Well, what I am is confused, and the more information you provide the more confused I get, because I still don't know what the point of all this is. In fact, I think I know less now than I did at the start.

    Sorry, I just don't have a clue what's going on here. I'm getting that vibe I get when I sense that all around me are engaging in some kind of groupthink and agreeing with something that makes no sense whatsoever and I'm the only one in the room whose brain is still working (in my own estimation). Perhaps that is a useful observation in its own right.

  • In many group settings, saying something that might disrupt the dynamic can feel risky—especially for neurotypical people, who often prioritize harmony and indirect communication. But for neurodivergent individuals, especially autistic people, speaking up is often a strength. It’s not about confrontation—it’s about clarity.
    Sometimes, we speak because something is causing internal conflict.
    Sometimes, we speak because we need to understand an idea more fully.
    And sometimes, we speak before we’ve formed a strong conviction—because saying it out loud helps us process it.
    It’s important to remember:
    Just because someone expresses a thought doesn’t mean they’re fixed in that belief.
    Dismissal, however, can unintentionally strengthen that belief—especially if the idea hasn’t yet had the chance to be explored or evaluated in a shared, respectful way.
    Neurodivergent communication often values directness, honesty, and inquiry. These aren’t flaws—they’re tools for understanding. And when embraced, they can lead to deeper connection, not division.
  • I want to begin by saying that my intention in sharing this is not to cause conflict or confusion. This is a neurodivergent space, and I believe it’s perfectly normal—and healthy—for us to express ourselves and ask questions without fear of being misunderstood or labeled as “rude.” Communication styles vary, and for many of us, directness is not a lack of politeness but a form of clarity.
    The term homo divergens resonates deeply with me. It’s not a scientific classification, but a thought experiment—a way to articulate how different our cognitive experiences can be from the neurotypical majority. As autistic individuals, our brains process the world in ways that are fundamentally distinct. While we may not look different on the outside, our internal experiences often are.
    This difference can lead to a sense of alienation. Personally, I sometimes feel the need to “run away” from the expectations of neurotypical society—not out of disdain, but out of a desire to be understood on my own terms. I don’t want others to assume I naturally associate with them or share their social norms. Instead, I wish they would approach each interaction with me as if it were “first contact”—with curiosity, openness, and respect.
    This isn’t about division. It’s about recognition. It’s about creating a space where neurodivergent people can be seen, heard, and valued for who we are—not who we’re expected to be.
  • A lot of the time, I feel like I'm on the outside of the box looking in. Human behaviour baffles me so much that I figure I must be a different species. Put me down as Homo divergens.

  • I feel like you about this about a lot of things, I don't believe I'm engaging in group think, thought experiements are often about thinking outside of whatever box people are inhabiting. Trouble is many of my thoughts on things are out side the box anyway and when I say what I think or feel, it seems like I've set off some kind of thought bomb.

Reply
  • I feel like you about this about a lot of things, I don't believe I'm engaging in group think, thought experiements are often about thinking outside of whatever box people are inhabiting. Trouble is many of my thoughts on things are out side the box anyway and when I say what I think or feel, it seems like I've set off some kind of thought bomb.

Children
  • In many group settings, saying something that might disrupt the dynamic can feel risky—especially for neurotypical people, who often prioritize harmony and indirect communication. But for neurodivergent individuals, especially autistic people, speaking up is often a strength. It’s not about confrontation—it’s about clarity.
    Sometimes, we speak because something is causing internal conflict.
    Sometimes, we speak because we need to understand an idea more fully.
    And sometimes, we speak before we’ve formed a strong conviction—because saying it out loud helps us process it.
    It’s important to remember:
    Just because someone expresses a thought doesn’t mean they’re fixed in that belief.
    Dismissal, however, can unintentionally strengthen that belief—especially if the idea hasn’t yet had the chance to be explored or evaluated in a shared, respectful way.
    Neurodivergent communication often values directness, honesty, and inquiry. These aren’t flaws—they’re tools for understanding. And when embraced, they can lead to deeper connection, not division.
  • I want to begin by saying that my intention in sharing this is not to cause conflict or confusion. This is a neurodivergent space, and I believe it’s perfectly normal—and healthy—for us to express ourselves and ask questions without fear of being misunderstood or labeled as “rude.” Communication styles vary, and for many of us, directness is not a lack of politeness but a form of clarity.
    The term homo divergens resonates deeply with me. It’s not a scientific classification, but a thought experiment—a way to articulate how different our cognitive experiences can be from the neurotypical majority. As autistic individuals, our brains process the world in ways that are fundamentally distinct. While we may not look different on the outside, our internal experiences often are.
    This difference can lead to a sense of alienation. Personally, I sometimes feel the need to “run away” from the expectations of neurotypical society—not out of disdain, but out of a desire to be understood on my own terms. I don’t want others to assume I naturally associate with them or share their social norms. Instead, I wish they would approach each interaction with me as if it were “first contact”—with curiosity, openness, and respect.
    This isn’t about division. It’s about recognition. It’s about creating a space where neurodivergent people can be seen, heard, and valued for who we are—not who we’re expected to be.
  • A lot of the time, I feel like I'm on the outside of the box looking in. Human behaviour baffles me so much that I figure I must be a different species. Put me down as Homo divergens.