I was sixteen when I first admitted how I truly felt. It was a warm summer evening and I was away on holidays, nervously drafting a text to my boyfriend. My heart pounded as I typed and deleted, searching for the courage to say something I'd never voiced aloud. Finally, I hit send: “Sometimes”, I wrote “I think I love animals in the same way I do humans”.
To my relief, he admitted that he felt the same way. That moment was a turning point in my life. While I had experienced these feelings for as long as I could remember, it was the first time I identified myself as a zoophile. Finally, I had a name for my experiences — a way to understand and accept them. But with that acceptance came a question: could practising zoosexuality ever be ethical?
Zoophilia or zoosexuality is the romantic or sexual attraction to non-human animals. While topics such as LGBTQ+ rights, polyamory, and kink have increasingly found spaces for open discussion, zoosexuality remains cloaked in taboo, shame, and stigma. For many, it's not even a topic of debate — it's simply dismissed outright as harmful or unnatural.
Yet for almost all of us as zoophiles, we love animals deeply and want what's best for them. In spite of this genuine love though, all you'll find are arguments against zoosexuality. Due to the stigma of the attraction, many of these objections are repeated without much critical thought, creating a one-sided narrative that ignores the lived experiences of zoos ourselves.
Ethics is not concerned with blindly following societal norms, but minimising harm and maximising wellbeing. To ensure we do so, we must confront the common arguments against zoosexuality — not to dismiss them outright, but to engage with them thoughtfully.
In this article, I aim to dismantle and challenge some of these claims. I hope this exploration will offer a clearer understanding for both zoos and anti-zoos alike as to why zoosexuality can be a healthy and valid expression of love, provided it is practiced responsibly and ethically.
1. animals can't consent because they can't speak
Consent, from Latin 'con-' — 'together' and 'sentio' — 'to feel', is at its core the mutual agreement between individuals. For humans, language is a powerful tool for expressing consent verbally. Yet, consent is not limited to words — it can also be communicated through behaviors, signals, and context.
Consider your dog's reaction when you grab their leash. If they come bounding toward you with a wagging tail, panting eagerly, they're clearly signaling their agreement to go for a walk. On the other hand, growling, cowering, or retreating communicates discomfort or refusal. These behaviours allow animals to express both 'yes' and 'no' in ways that are natural to them.
In sexual interactions, animals also have ways of expressing their willingness or unwillingness. They might position themselves in spaces where they associate such activities or display behaviours similar to those used in mating with others of their species. These non-verbal cues are a meaningful form of communication, just as valid as spoken words in humans.
To ignore these signals is to disregard the intricate, non-verbal ways animals navigate the world. It overlooks the rich, complex ways they express needs, desires, and boundaries. Recognizing and respecting these forms of communication is essential to understanding their agency and ensuring ethical interactions.
This however is not informed consent, which implies an understanding of potential risks and consequences — something animals cannot fully grasp. For example, a dog may eagerly jump into a car for a drive without understanding the possibility of a crash. Does that mean taking them for a drive violates their consent? Of course not.
As caretakers and companions, it's our responsibility to respect their signals of consent wherever possible while also minimizing risks and prioritizing their well-being. This approach allows us to act ethically in our relationships with animals, balancing their agency with our duty to protect and care for them.
