BabyFurCon 2024: My Journey to Self-Affirmation

I have just returned from an experience that has left me forever changed. I am speaking, of course, about BabyFurCon 2024. This convention was not just an event; it was a journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and unconditional love for myself and around everyone around me.

While I was working on this post, I literally read hundreds of posts and messages from BFC attendees on social media. Pretty much everyone was saying the same things I’m writing about here. We are basking in the warm euphoria of this convention, and I wanted to immortalize those experiences on here while I still have that euphoria stirring in the depths of my soul.

As a professional author in the AB/DL and babyfur fiction genre that’s been active for over 20 years, I have always been open about my interests. But it was easier to put words on a screen than put anything into practice. For decades, I was so accustomed to putting fantasy onto paper that I nearly forgot what it was like to live that experience. As a writer, I would bank the once-in-a-while experiences I had with others and incorporate them into my work. There was a realism to my work that helped readers establish a strong connection.

Though I’ve attended furry conventions in the past and had the opportunities to interact and engage with the babyfur community, it was always a fleeting moment in time. Don’t get me wrong. I loved every moment I spent with babyfurs outside of BFC, but the time I spent with them felt like a blip on the radar compared to the amount of time I personally wanted to spend with them. I never felt those experiences were “complete” enough to credibly and thoroughly weave into my fiction.

Then BFC happened.

I could never imagine the day I would attend a four day-long babyfur convention. My people. My tribe.

Stepping into a space where I was surrounded by people who share the same passions was a revelation. I saw people openly wearing diapers, dressed in toddler and sissy clothing, their faces beaming with happiness and pride. It was a sight to behold, and it filled me with a sense of belonging I have never felt before. Seeing such openness was a work of art that easily and vividly eclipsed the worlds and characters I’ve crafted.

Cargo Woozle, one of my favorite babyfur artists, commissioned another one of my favorite artists stinkslinky to draw their vision of “diapered normality.” The idea behind the piece, at least in my mind, was the concept that everyone was diapered, and that it was completely accepted and encouraged. BFC was essentially like that. As soon as the hotel lockdown commenced on Thursday, September 26 at 4 p.m., that diapered normality began. And once I removed my pants, I was completely at ease. I was not embarrassed. There wasn’t any shame. I looked around me and all I saw was: “You wear diapers too? Whatever. It’s just Thursday.” Then I was handed a merit badge. However, achieving this normality was its own reward.

The convention was a strong positive affirmation of loving oneself. It was a reminder that we are not defined by societal standards of what “normal” is supposed to look like. We are defined by our own truths, and those truths are valid and beautiful. I saw people of all genders, sexualities, and backgrounds coming together, celebrating their identities, and it was a testament to the wonders of diversity within the AB/DL and babyfur community.

There were panels, classes, field trips and games that were part of a well-curated con schedule. Our Programming department deserves major props for this; their objective was to highlight the diversity of babyfurs, providing something for everyone. There were hypnosis shows, music classes, a field trip to the majestic Redwood forests (had a wonderful time there) and the beach, water balloon fights, babyfur-themed Family Feud and Jeopardy — so much to choose from! I even hosted two fun panels, The Art of AB/DL Storytelling with Karis and Campfire Songs (open mic). There were also events that appealed to specific audiences, including people who wear diapers 24/7 and the transgender community.

As a cisgender male, I was grateful to spend time with members of the trans community. They’ve had to overcome a great deal of physical and psychological barriers to live their true gender and be completely honest with themselves. To see them being loved, accepted and thriving in our convention space truly warmed my heart. I passed along the validation I felt to them, giving them gender-affirming love and care, listening to them discuss their experience and journey to self-realization. Seeing them enjoy the convention inspired me to accept some truths about myself.

While at BFC, I discovered that I am a queer grey asexual. This realization was not a sudden epiphany but a gradual awakening, a gentle unfolding of truth within me. Grey asexuality means that I can and do engage in sexual activities, but only under specific circumstances. For me, it requires a deep, emotional connection — a bond that goes far beyond physical attraction. But diapers do help, obviously. I mean, come on! This understanding was extremely freeing. It allowed me to see that my relationships do not have to revolve around sex. Instead, they can be built on a foundation of emotional intimacy, mutual respect, and shared experiences. That said, simply being at BFC for four days was extraordinarily stimulating for me, and I derived actual pleasure from being within that particular space. It was a revelation that sex is not a necessity, but rather an optional expression of love and connection.

Once I completely let go of the desire to crave sexual intimacy, everything seemed to magically fall into place. It was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I no longer felt the need to fit into a mold that was never truly meant for me in the first place. I could fully embrace my grey asexuality here.

BFC provided the perfect environment for this self-discovery. The convention was a space where I could simply be, without the pressure to conform to societal expectations. I could vibe in the space, letting everything happen naturally. There was no need to force connections or experiences; everything flowed organically. Sure, there were people I wanted to connect with. There were some I weren’t able to connect with. But at the end of the day, I was perfectly satisfied with coexisting with all these wonderful people within the same safe space.

Preserving the safe space was important to me. BFC also highlighted the importance of consent, safety, and respect within our community. It was a reminder that while we celebrate our kinks and interests, we must always do so responsibly and with the utmost respect for each other. Our attendees were well-behaved, they respected and adhered to our carefully crafted Code of Conduct, and did their part to preserve our little slice of paradise. In a way, we were all working together as a team to keep in place a convention space that was uniquely special.

BFC 2024 was a celebration of our uniqueness. It was a safe space where we could embrace our eccentricities, free from judgment. For the first time, I did not feel like an outsider looking in, dwelling on how others would think of me. I was part of a community, a chosen family bound by shared experiences and affirmations, and it was beautiful. Truly beautiful.

Building this chosen family became a top priority after my mother passed away in July. I had a small family to begin with. No brothers or sisters. No extended family that we were in communication with. I was never close enough with my relatives to confide to. My friends were supportive, but I admittedly kept them at arm’s length because of the chaos that enveloped my entire being for the past few years. Even when my mother was in better health, I felt continuously rejected by her, and made to feel like a perpetually imperfect being who was incapable of being remotely anything more than that. She was aware of my interests to a certain extent and would occasionally bring them up in the middle of heated arguments we often had — weaponizing my furry-ness as a bludgeoning tool to denigrate me. The notion she projected upon me was: because I chose to be a part of the furry fandom, I could never achieve success and happiness outside of it. I would often find myself acquiescing to her and repressing myself.

Going through the caregiving and grieving process, I was drained and sometimes felt alone. Though that repressive force was no longer a looming threat to my emotional stability and security, I recognized the importance of building a support network of friends that could be a part of my chosen family.

On the day my mother passed and in the days that followed, members of BFC’s executive staff took time out of their busy schedules to comfort me. I tried valiantly to be as professional as I could as a con volunteer as my personal situation was unraveling, but couldn’t. There was a period of time when I felt emotionally overwhelmed and hit the wall. But they checked on me. Me. Why should they care? This was my first BFC. This was my first BFC as a volunteer. I was low on the staff totem pole. But they were there for me. And when I scrapped and crawled my way out of the darkness and into the light, I decided I would make it my personal mission to contribute to a convention that nurtured and cared for attendees the way the executives cared for me. I decided to stay on board, and carry on with my roles and responsibilities with immense pride. After the chips were down, after I experienced BFC as an attendee and a staffer for the first time, I noticed my chosen family got a lot bigger.

In the end, BabyFurCon 2024 was more than just a convention. It was a life-changing experience. It taught me to embrace my differences, to love myself unconditionally, and to never be afraid to be who I am.

I am Crinkle Cat, and I am proud to be a babyfur. I am proud to be different. And I am proud to be part of this wonderful, loving community.

To those who were there, thank you for making my first BabyFurCon an unforgettable experience. To those who are thinking of attending future events, I say go for it. You might just find a piece of yourself you never knew was missing.

Going forward, I will donate a portion of the proceeds I earn from commissions to Partnership for Artists and Creative Individuals (PACI), a California 501(c)(3) nonprofit that founded BFC. PACI helps organize furry conventions and creates community within the LGBTQIA+ subcultures. Supporting PACI will help create spaces for people to live their truth and find true happiness within themselves — because who knows? They might save a life of someone who’s struggled for decades to find that happiness.

They saved mine.

Until next time, stay crinkly, stay furry, and most importantly, stay true to yourself.

With love,

Crinkle Cat