Sex & Relationships

Inside the weird world of the ‘furry’ fetish

It is estimated that at least 250,000 people in the US identify as “furries.” These are not an offshoot of PETA activists, rallying for the safety of animals and their coats.

Instead, furries are a subculture whose members enjoy dressing up as cartoonish animals, sometimes as a sexual fetish but more often as a fun escape.

In early September, the furry movement made headlines for all the wrong reasons. Scott Chamberlain, a councilman from New Milford, Conn., was forced to resign when it came to light that he was a furry. His animal of choice: a fox called Gray Muzzle. This revelation was confirmed via Chamberlain’s profile on a website called sofurry.com.

The profile showed a photo of him posing alongside someone in furry garb. That he checked a box, on his sofurry.com profile, stating that he “tolerates rape,” did not help his situation.

Nevertheless, those in the furry community rallied behind Chamberlain. People who wanted Chamberlain out of his political position got “carried away,” said Joe Strike, 67, a writer who lives on the Upper East Side, identifies as a furry and authored the new book “Furry Nation” (Cleis Press) out now. “I don’t want to call it a lynch mob, but people get upset. I feel sorry for the guy.” From postings he’s read, Strike added, “people thought it was unfair.”

If it’s any consolation to Chamberlain, Furpocalypse, the largest gathering of furries in New England, takes place Oct. 27-29. It will be held in Cromwell, Conn., 112 miles from Chamberlain’s home base.

Strike, who dresses up as a suave Komodo dragon named Komos — “He wears a dinner jacket, his eyes are hypnotic and his presence is commanding; all that’s missing is a sherry goblet” — will be joining an expected 1,500 attendees at the event.

Joe Strike

Strike looks forward to costumed comedy sketches and song parodies along with opportunities to socialize with those of his ilk. “I will wear my costume every opportunity I get — at conventions and on Halloween,” he said, acknowledging that the handmade outfit — constructed of felt and foam rubber — is generally too hot to don on a day-to-day basis. A minority of furries, he added, dress up a few times a month for gatherings in peoples’ homes and public parks.

Strike estimates that two-thirds of furries are men and that a large number of them come from the IT and technology professions. The latter somewhat jibes with a study on furries led by Canadian college professor Dr. Kathy Gerbasi and published in the journal Society & Animals. Gerbasi found that approximately 25 percent of those surveyed considered themselves less than 100 percent human and would become zero percent human if they could. Strike said that most furries he encountered grew up with interests in anthropomorphic cartoon characters and now find comfort around others with the same interest.

While it’s commonly believed that sexuality plays a large role in the socializing of furry friends, Strike insisted that only a small number of his comrades engage in sexual acts while dressed in their outfits. “You don’t have fetish scenes at the conventions, but some people might go back to their rooms for fun.”

Cleis Press

Nevertheless, his current boyfriend (Strike is bisexual) met him at a furry event, was attracted to Strike’s outfit and used it for an entreaty. “One day he sent me a text saying, ‘How are you, you sexy ’gator?’ ” said Strike. “He’s a walrus, and I don’t find his costume to be a turn-on. But he is quite younger, he called me sexy and I am not complaining.”

Though the idea of people relating to animals and adopting their own beastly characteristics dates back thousands of years, Strike figures that the modern furry movement gained its footing in the early 1990s. “The Internet began hooking people up and it took off,” Strike said.

Initially believing that costumes were overkill, Strike had a change of heart three years ago after trying on a friend’s meerkat outfit. “That’s when I decided to get a suit of my own.” A designer in Maryland, named Artslave, who specializes in furry wear, created Strike’s outer trapping, which cost $2,100. “It was worth every penny,” said Strike. “I like the eyes that glow and its serpentine tail that wiggles as I walk.”

For the furries who will be gathering in Connecticut this month, pleasures promise to go beyond the physical. “People invent mythologies for themselves, and it is a hell of a lot of fun,” said Strike. “You have permission to not be yourself, and it is liberating.” Outside of his costume, Strike said, “I am easygoing. As Komos, though, I become forceful. It’s a nice vacation for me.”