Astrology and the importance of queer spirituality

Taking up space: Revering the queer in astrology – Dru Ish

Written for Archer Magazine, May 2017

Astrology, like queerness, has been written into and out of history depending on
who’s documenting it. Both have been denied existence, succumb to institutional
fear and persecution, and had glorious times of celebration and reverence.

Embodying the juxtaposition of living in queer bodies under heteropatriarchy, we are continually forced to locate ourselves, just as astrology has had to orient itself around historical changes in thought, religion and political conquests. We question everything we’ve been told about ourselves; our names, gender, sexuality, potential, our place in this world. It is no wonder, then, that queer people are drawn to the long-standing tradition of astrology to find meaning and recognition of who we are.

Humans have an innate need to find meaning. We seek it in religion, the media,
nature, university and relationships. We create our own understanding of omens
and signs that point our way forward. When we are frustrated we roll our eyes;
looking up as if to ask for inspiration. This seeking is as old and mysterious as life
itself.

Astrology locates us. Our birth chart is an intersection of time and space. It is a
snapshot of the cosmos the moment we take our first breath. It cannot tell an
astrologer the name, gender, race or sexual orientation of a person. It is a map that
holds our potential, our struggles, and our gifts and talents in a world that can strip
us of our identity and existence. Venus and Saturn don’t discriminate when queer
people are born, saying they don’t want to attend the birth. We all have the cosmic
dance of the planets within us. Astrology is a lens we can look through to derive
meaning and understanding. It reminds us to carve out space, to push back and
redefine the rules of who we’ve been told we are.

Our search for meaning often leads us back to ourselves. When laws govern our
personal lives and the integrity of religion is questionable, it is imperative that we
are aware of what is sacred and personally important to us. As queer people, we do
not stand at the centre of patriarchy, or heteronormativity, yet we are constantly
orienting ourselves around them. When the world reinforces rules and guidelines
that don’t reflect queer realities, the one thing we do have that cannot be stripped of
us is our unique essence. Here, astrology offers us a crystal clear view into the
workings of our individual complexities and nuances. Specifically for queer people it
encourages us to hold our uniqueness with care and compassion, acknowledging the
strength and fragility in living authentically.

Sun sign astrology has never been so popular. There’s comfort, for most people, in
finding out that someone else is the same sign as us. Being social creatures, we seek
connection and inclusivity, and when connection and meaning intersect, we hit one
of our fulfilment jackpots. It reminds us of our constant potential to be all that we
are, and gives us permission to take up space in ways that reiterate feelings of
belonging. As Sun signs only indicate so much about an individual, queer theory
encourages us to dig below the surface to the source and complexities inherent in
humans and our issues. Dissecting one’s birth chart can be a liberating and
enlightening process as it clarifies contradictions we grapple with internally and
defend externally.

In 1969 when humans first walked on the Moon, it was also the first time we had
seen ourselves reflected back. We had to acknowledge that everyday we’re sweating
the small stuff, getting into arguments that lead nowhere, while we’re actually living
on a rock, hanging in space. There is no going back from that moment of realization
in human consciousness, just like we can no longer pretend to be something other
than our authentic selves when we’ve been given, or taken, the space to step into
that.

At the time of writing this article, Saturn is in Sagittarius for the first time in 29
years. This not only means that people born between November 1985 –1988 are
Saturn Returning right now, it also means that collectively we are at a moment in
human history where we are being asked what it looks like to have our truth
manifest in the physical world; not existing purely in the realm of ideas, scripture or
theory.

It is a time of pushing further into the heart of the things we derive meaning and
direction from. The myth of Sagittarius is that of a centaur; half human, half animal,
with head in the clouds and feet on the ground. The arrows in the bow of Sagittarius
are directed toward truth and meaning, piercing deceit and testing our faith and the
places we have laid it outside of ourselves. In queer communities, it points toward a
growing pressure for us to understand how to navigate the world with our
entitlement and self-righteous attitudes in check. What does it mean to be
responsible with our knowledge and freedom?

As queer people, we know all too well that there is no taking freedom and autonomy
for granted, and that what freedom looks like for one, may not be so for another.
Exploring the unknown and approaching difference with compassion are vital tools
in both astrological curiosity and queer living.

Astrology holds space for everyone regardless of ethnicity, gender, ability,
orientation and appearance. It speaks to our queer longing to be seen and
understood and it encourages us to be the uniqueness that we are; unapologetic,
mysterious, walking contradictions.

Dru Ish is a truth seeker – star gazer – adventure maker, who sees life through the lens of Astrology. They are a consulting astrologer, offering readings in person and via skype www.druish.com, & can otherwise be found in the colourful corners of Instagram @dru.ish