The Star: Musings on Winter Work, Neurodivergence, and Queer Femme Power

One of my favorite aspects of my local Samhain liturgy is drawing tarot cards to represent our winter work- an area of magical study for the dark months of the year. 

In 2023, I drew The Star.

I've been clumsily attempting to read tarot since I was twelve, but I never connected to the cards because of the heavy Christian symbolism of traditional decks. When I drew The Star at Samhain, I Googled it's standard meaning- hope and resilience after calamity- and filed it away as a reminder to stay positive this winter. (Ha... ha... easier said than done for those of us with seasonal depression 🤣). 

Recently, while reading The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women's Role in Society by Eleanor Janega, I came across a passage about how a medieval Book of Hours depicted Aquarius as a naked woman gathering water. Something clicked into place. I had been so used to thinking of The Water Bearer as male that it never occurred to me: The Star is an Aquarius femme. 

Folks, I am a textbook Aquarius sun sign, except for the pesky stereotypes about being aloof and cold. (With a moon in Scorpio and four different placements in Pisces, I'm more of the smoldering sensitive type). But The Water Bearer has been hard for me to connect to as a high femme, and not just because the 11th star sign is usually depicted as a man (medieval Book of Hours notwithstanding). Our society associates Aquarian intellect and innovation with rationality, objectivity, and cool logic- all which have have had masculine connotations for most of Western history. 

Obviously, people of all genders exhibit those traits. But that’s never been my form of intelligence. Growing up, I was the kid who effortlessly understood allegories but struggled to perform basic math and notice objects in plain sight. My personal brand of intellect and innovation is less suited to hard logic and more suited to finding insights, dismantling social structures, and creating new frameworks for understanding art and metaphysics. As a lover of the humanities with inattentive-type ADHD, I often struggle for my intelligence to get taken seriously. No matter how high my GPA is, no matter how organized my room is, no matter how disciplined my work ethic is, there's always been a voice of inferiority in the back of my head, the invisible shame that many neurodivergent people develop as children when we discover that we perceive the world differently. 

In true Aquarian fashion, I've pursued community by finding my subcultures and giving them everything I had. (Let's not forget that the Water-Bearer is The Community Builder and The Social Reformer in addition to The Mad Scientist). If the world is more eager for aspiring engineers than aspiring poets and storytellers and Pagan organizers- well, I found the poets and the storytellers and the Pagans who I'm thrilled to call my community. But the shame was still there, creeping into the recesses of my subconscious whenever I failed or faltered. I needed a source of strength to keep the darkness of winter at bay. 

The Star is hope: light at the end of the tunnel. The Star is service: pouring your unique talents into the world. 

I'm never going to discover a cure for cancer or a solution to the energy crisis, but I can run a workshop and write a book, and that's it's own kind of gift to society. Like many neurodivergent people, I've struggled all my life to have compassion for myself when unconventional talents come naturally to me (enjoying Shakespeare in a class of bored high schoolers) and the "normal" things don't (spatial awareness, cough cough). Since I have to work twice as hard to complete Basic Life Tasks, I might as well have a sense of humor about it.🤣

This card from the Seasons of the Witch: Imbolc Oracle serves as the centerpiece of my winter work with The Star. Look at her. So at home in herself, so joyful. 

If queerness is about dissolving barriers and subverting expectations, then there's something inherently queer about the Water Bearer. Aquarius is the fixed air sign that pours water into the world. (Does your head hurt yet??) The waters of Aquarius possess a different quality than the Cancerian waters of nurturing and care- they are the waters of creativity and human potential. 

Many years ago, I had a conversation with a relative who was shocked to find out that I don't want to have children. She asked how I could ever find personal fulfillment without bringing new lives into the world. What a narrow understanding of womanhood! I could think of a million things I'd rather do with my life than raise children: backpack across Europe, release an album, start a nonprofit, court the love of my life. I would rather "give birth to" ideas, projects, and organizations than tiny human beings. That, too, is queer in the figurative sense. 

I'm beginning to see queerness as not just an identity but a life philosophy. Queer consciousness is the voice of reform that sheds light on the darkness, resists conformity, sees what's broken in the world, and proposes new solutions. 

... or maybe I'm just writing about Aquarius again. 

Honestly? Sometimes my experience of womanhood feels radically different than the vision laid out by straight society. Everything from what I wear every day (red lipstick on a bare face and combat boots), to the way I love, to my vision of the world, are brazenly lesbian. Reconciling my traditionally feminine exterior with my revolutionary soul has been a journey in and of itself. In my work with the archetype of the Aquarius Femme, I'm embracing the idea that don't have to dress alternative to be, well, alternative. Some of us just like florals. 

With hair down to my waist and flowy dresses, I can easily "pass" in straight society- although I make a concerted effort not to. Around extended family members and unfamiliar adults, I often slip into the role of the polite young (queer) woman. And I enjoy it: it's part of who I am and it's satisfying to perform. Like the behavioral equivalent of drag. But when my free-spirited side comes out, some of the reactions I get are ridiculous. I still get shocked looks whenever I curse or flirt or argue about politics- "But you seemed so wholesome!!!" (I think it was the eleven years of Catholic school).

Small wonder girls my age are so drawn to goddesses like Persephone in all their glorious duality and contradiction. Somehow it's still radical to suggest that femmes who present traditionally can express anger, enjoy sex, hold authority, and step outside of the roles that we comfortably inhabit. 

But I digress... 

Speaking of Persephone, the ultimate goal of my winter work with The Star is to harness my talents and come into my own as Her aspiring priestess. 2024 is the last year before I leave for college, and I intend to make it my biggest year at CUUPS yet. I'm already working on the calendar of Hellenic offerings with the brilliant Demetrian priestess who’s showing me the ropes. 

In honor of my winter work with The Star, here's a tarot/oracle card spread for Aquarian-style innovation. 

The Water Bearer: What kind of leader will you be?

The Water: What creativity and insight do you have to offer?

The Cup: How will you share your ideas with the world? 

Aquarius season begins tomorrow morning and Pluto enters Aquarius in the evening. Change is in the air, whether we like it or not. Seasons' greetings to you from a proud Water-Bearer! 

Khairete, 

Rose Eleusis