Connecting Cosmic Bodies: Reading self, other and community through astrology on social media

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Connecting Cosmic Bodies

Reading self, other and community through astrology on social media

Master thesis in RMA Cultural Analysis

Flora Woudstra

1389629

Supervisor: Murat Aydemir

University of Amsterdam

June 13th, 2018

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Introduction

Astrology represents the belief that celestial phenomena, such as planets and stars, exert influence on living beings. Through a star map called the ‘natal chart’, astrology

practicioners produce precise data about the stances of planets and other cosmic bodies at the time of one’s birth. Attached to this data is interpretations - about personalities, about events in people’s lives - which is produced by those calling themselves

astrologers. Astrological practice is non-scientific: while it uses precise data, its results cannot be falsified, fact-checked or recreated.

Astrological practice does not take into account anything such as race, gender or class: it is only concerned with the placement of the stars at the time of a person’s birth. When a friend, amateur astrologer Joey Courtney, explained this to me, it piqued my interest. It appeared to me that astrology provided an alternative model of categorization that ignores mainstream societal structures.

Having personally struggled with how to fit in and what categories to sort myself into, I found astrology resonating with me. I clicked through website after website, using astrological data to figure myself out. Skeptics among friends rolled their eyes; did I not realize astrology was made up? I, however, was not interested in whether astrology had any basis in fact. I was fascinated, and this fascination has carried over into this very thesis before you.

When I was developing ideas for this thesis, considering what to write about astrology, I chose to focus my research on online astrology and its practicioners. The internet, especially social media such as Twitter, Tumblr and Pinterest, is populated by countless amateur astrologers. They dole out advice and create content based on

astrological data and their interpretations or readings. This can range from aesthetically pleasing collections of photographs on Pinterest (‘50 pictures that represent Virgo’), to astrology ‘memes’, humorous viral pictures on Twitter that convey astrological

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stereotypes (‘Taurus people when you take their food: [picture of an angry looking cow]’), to astrology-inspired prose and poetry on Tumblr.

These social media websites, in this thesis limited to Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram, are spaces of connectivity: user interaction is an essential part of the

functionality of these websites. Rather than a model in which there is one author and an audience of listeners, every person is an author and a contributor. On social media websites, astrology therefore became a subculture: a subset of people who participate in the production and dissemination of this online astrological knowledge. This provides my research with a broad community of voices to select from and write about and relieves me from deference to a single authority in astrology, since there effectively is none.

In addition, it lends relevance to my project: here is a large, growing group that thrives on a knowledge system which is inherently alternative and resistant to categories and norms such as race and gender. It warrants some investigation.

I had to wonder - what was the hold astrology had over all these people on social media? What kind of cues can we take from astrology, I pondered, especially as

academics: is there some fruitful ground for thinking about humans, their identification patterns, their relationships to one another?

‘Thinking about humans’ became a core element of my research. Online astrology, I believe, is essentially concerned with information about humans, their personalities, and their interactions. As a researcher, I want to look specifically at the ways online astrology offers alternative knowledge and explorations of humanity and each human’s relationship to the self and his peers. Therefore, I have formulated the following research question: ‘How are online users constituting themselves beyond disciplinary identity labels and redefining their relationships to others through astrology?’

This research question allows me to not only investigate exactly what online astrological practice does, but also to cast my gaze on the conditions that enable the practice. About halfway through my thesis, I will start to explore whether astrology can

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be connected to the current state of Western society. Here, rather than explore the astrological process in itself, I will also strive to see if online astrology is answering a particular call or perhaps even relieving a certain distress.

For this thesis, I have assembled a moderate archive of internet posts that incorporate astrology, from three major social media sources: Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram. All posts in my archive have an original posting date between January 2016 and June 2018. All the posts have a common trait: each of them purports knowledge about people of a certain astrological variety. For example, one Tumblr post by online astrologer Astrolocherry opens: ‘pisces- mystery, elusiveness, sensitivity, sympathy. Can adapt into any form necessary. Deep, nurturing voices.’ (sic) While this post in particular is descriptive, there are also posts in the archive that directly advise the reader through astrology: for example, a tweet by Twitter user MILKSTROLOGY that tells the reader to ‘write poetry or make mixtapes for [Pisces] specifically and read/share it w them’ in order to attract them.

These posts are more serious, but the archive also contains examples that are more ironic in tone and can be characterized as ‘memes’: humorous viral images that can be shared and spread quickly. An example of the latter is a meme posted by Twitter user happycapricorn, which shows a Renaissance painting of a man smiling

apologetically to a serene-looking woman, as he is dragged off by a small blonde

woman. Text is overlaid on the painting: the man is titled ‘Aquarius’, the serene-looking woman ‘The point’, the blonde woman who drags ‘Aquarius’ of is ‘Debating anything with anyone for any reason.’

Beyond my internet archive, this thesis also contains excerpts from two interviews I conducted, both with self-identified online astrologers: Fallon Does and Joey Courtney.

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Naturally, I have also developed an extensive theoretical framework for this thesis. I have chosen three main areas of research for this framework: queer studies, affective labor theory, and posthuman theory.

I have chosen to connect astrology to queer studies, to investigate how astrology may act as a strategy of surviving, living, communicating and connecting that does not rely on classical models of categorization such as race, class, and gender. I see an immediate queer angle to astrology as an alternative knowledge system that counters hegemonic norms of identity formation and categorization.

Chief among the queer theorists I selected for this thesis is Jack Halberstam, who in his writing is critical of gender binaries and details the problem that arise from them, especially for those with alternative gender identities. Eve Sedgwick is another significant name: also a gender-critical theorist, she coined the term ‘nonce-taxonomy’ to describe alternative, temporal taxonomies a subject might switch between.

I also make extensive use of the work of American feminist and civil rights activist Audre Lorde, for her work on the concept of ‘difference’ and the social power attached to this difference. In the end, I aim to connect theory such as this to astrology to see how astrology might be ‘queering’ certain norms in order to produce different identity formations and belongings for its subculture of users.

Additionally, I want to connect astrology to the theory of affective labour, as defined by Kathleen Lynch and Judy Walsh. These authors utilize affective labor, in which practices centered around emotion and human interaction rather than physical output are considered ‘labor’, to draw attention to societal inequalities. In my thesis, I use their theory to frame astrology through affective labor and explore its relationship to society and the state.

I make use of Frederic Jameson’s _{Postmodernism, too, in order to elaborate on} the conditions of society and state and how astrology interacts with these.

Lastly, I connect astrological practice to posthumanist theory, in order to figure out if astrology, as an alternative mode, is calling for a different understanding of humanness, the human body and human identity. Here, the seminal _{Cyborg Manifesto}

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by Donna Haraway is an important text - I contrast and compare astrological practice with Haraway, who envisioned a cyborg as a new feminist myth for the contemporary era, in order to see whether astrology is compatible with a myth of hybridity and incompleteness such as the cyborg.

My thesis is divided into three chapters. Chapter one focuses on astrology’s alternative structure for identification, categorization and structuring of difference. In chapter two, I start out by focusing on the social aspect of astrology, then proceed to investigate whether this social aspect causes astrology to clash with dominant norms and the demands of the state, specifically the neoliberal Western state. In my third and last chapter, I frame astrology through formulations of postmodernity to see how astrology is affected by, or answers to, the conditions of the contemporary time in the West. I then ponder whether astrology heralds a different sort of human, a posthuman that goes beyond human limits and is unafraid of change.

In this thesis, I hope to be able to look at online astrology productively: not as a pseudo-scientific internet craze, but rather as an alternative mode of seeing and acting that provides something significant and renewing to those that dabble in it.

Additionally, I hope that I can provide a deeper understanding of how each of us identify ourselves and relate to others - what goes into these processes, how they are shaped by external factors such as the time we live in and the form of government our nations have, and how we may think of alternatives to these processes.

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Chapter 1:

The Cosmos of the Self: Astrology and Identity

Introduction

When I was first introduced to online astrological practice, it was actually not over social media - it was in the real world. Joey Courtney, a student from Michigan, U.S. and an internet friend of mine for years, was staying with me in my apartment in Leiden while he was starting as a first-year at Leiden University. On one of our first nights as roommates, he asked me: ‘Can I do your natal chart for you?’

Subsequently, he asked me to enter my birth data - birth date, time and place - in a website called CafeAstrology. When I pressed “submit,” the website delivered a complete natal chart, providing me with planetary placements based on my birth data. Joey Courtney then helped me interpret each set of data and gave me an incredible amount of information, supposedly about myself, based on my natal chart.

Natal charts, which are essential to online astrology practices, completely efface traditional categories from the conversation. Race, class, gender - none of these popped up or seemed to be of any relevance. Instead, online astrologers relate to memes, advice posts and pictures through their natal charts. They are using highly specific sets of cosmically-determined data about themselves to relate to each other and to themselves. Each person becomes a cosmos of their own, full of endless specific details which disturb even the most base attempts at

grouping -- speaking of “Scorpio’s” in this astrological practice inevitably requires one to

specify that they are referring to “Scorpio _{suns” - e.g. persons whose natal chart indicates that the} Virgo constellation was transiting the sun at the time of their birth.

Each person in the category of “Scorpio sun” - thus, born between mid-October and mid-November - has a complex natal chart available beyond just their “Sun”, with almost endless possibilities of individual differentiation and variation.

In this chapter, I investigate the manner in which online astrological practice constitutes and sustains the self. Who is the self according to astrology and what kind of identification

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processes is the astrological subject expected to go through? What, in the end, makes the astrologer meet “the self” - and then, of what does this self consist?

I will begin this chapter by introducing online astrology through examples gathered from social media, in order to lay the groundwork for my theoretical exploration. combined with texts by authors focusing on the concept of post-demographics: the idea that social media allow for a different process of social grouping. I will then move on to combine the conclusions from this section with a queer theoretical framework, using the works of writers like Judith Butler and Jack Halberstam, to theorize on the ways astrology handles difference and categorization. I will also introduce a text by feminist author Audre Lorde , on the topic of difference, for these questions.

1.1 Astrology and the internal self Internet examples

In this section, I have included a number of internet posts which exemplify, to me, online astrological practice and its specific manner of identity formation. On April 18th, 2018, Twitter account @Rude_Astrology tweeted:

Virgos are very critical, they are NEVER satisfied and being ruled by Mercury, they are very vocal about inconveniences. This is where the trouble starts because they could appear really negative even harsh when giving advice

Rude_Astrology (upwards of 4,000 followers at the time of writing) is one of many social media accounts that posts about star signs, planets and horoscopes. In this particular post,

Rude_Astrology gives an account of what the star sign Virgo is like. Virgos are those born in a period from mid-August to mid-September: they are one of the twelve star signs, each of which is believed to have a unique personality and characteristics.

However, this division of twelve is only the tip of the astrological iceberg. Within the framework of the natal chart, which indicates which planets, stars and constellations were dominantly present at the moment of one’s birth, a “Virgo” is one who was born while the Sun transited the Virgo constellation. However, every single other planet and star in one’s “natal chart” may be different and exert its own influence on a person’s character and life.

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For example, one may have an “Aries moon”, which comes with its own traits that interact with the traits of one’s sun. On April 13th, 2018, Tumblr user Astrolocherry posted:

Moon in Aries: Can become highly impulsive when emotions are activated, can suffer tension headaches and sensitive generation of rage during this time. Needs must be immediately gratified, observes people closely and experiments with different styles of managing their distress.

In this post, Astrolocherry maps out the personality of a person born with their Moon in Aries, delineating them as having specific attributes connected to this placement in their natal chart..

Post-demographics: astrology and social media

Online astrology, as demonstrated, asks its participants to think through the aformentioned natal charts. For example, a subject may look at their chart and determine that they are a Libra Sun, Sagittarius Jupiter, etcetera, and subsequently craft their identity through combining data on what it means to be a Libra Sun with what it means to be a Sagittarius Jupiter.

A useful term for this, potentially, is that of “post-demographics.” Anthony McCosker (2017), an Australian researcher in media and communications, used this term to describe online processes that “rather than reveal universal characteristics of populations, report on tendencies, trends, interests, tastes, preferences and other items of life moving from share-moment to share-moment.” (9) Post-demographics produces “personalization processes tied only to data driven “profilization””, he writes. (8)

Post-demographics, in other words, is that which can be said to eschew one set of categorizations, such as height, weight, race, eye color, etcetera - and replace them with others, loosely grouping together social media users based on their interests and tendencies rather than ontologically rigid societal hierarchies. In racial classification, a person can either have one race or claim bi- or multiraciality, but they can never constitute themselves as being a constellation of racial identities, all of which come together to constitute one indeterminate whole. Through post-demographics, however, this is possible: a person self becomes constituted through all kinds of small, individual components combined.

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To exemplify this, I have added a tweet by Twitter user @thottielamottie, posted on March 15th, 2016. In the tweet, @thottielamottie professes:

my sun is in taurus and my moon is in virgo so i like being naked AND reading @zaynmalik wife this shit up playboy

In a tweet such as this, a online astrology user attributes different parts of their character to different parts of their natal chart and constitutes themselves by the intersection of their separate categories. The online astrologer in question is stating two disparate qualities, connecting them to natal chart placements, and subsequently pairing them with the use of the pronoun “I”: the self is constituted in the crossing of these separate elements, in the intersection of multiple

mini-identities.

Richard A. Rogers (2009), professor in New Media at the University of Amsterdam, contends that social media websites themselves are “the most significant post-demographic machines.” (33) In other words, the social media websites themselves are what create the

possibility for new forms of identification and self-assertion: the “typing oneself into being” that Sunden (2003) wrote about. However, the link between astrology and post-demographics is somewhat contentious, as I will now describe.

Where the post-demographics that McCosker describes rely on a person’s interests, astrology rather relies on sets of predetermined and unchanging data. The similarity between astrology and post-demographics is the effacement of classical categorization and the

encouragement of constituting an identity based on combining several smaller identities.

However, in astrology, these identities are not based on choice but rather on the circumstances of one’s birth.

This can be interpreted as restrictive. Ronja Mannov Olesen (2014), a Danish gender studies researcher formerly affiliated with the University of Utrecht, describes astrology as “a seemingly deterministic and spiritually oriented belief system”, and then goes on to question its popularity among people identifying as queer, stating there are some “epistemological and ontological challenges” in combining astrology “with the anti-essentialist, social constructionist foundation of the queer movement.” (2) Olesen points at a contradiction: if astrology is indeed

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freeing because it ignores classic taxonomies, is it at the same time restrictive through its reliance on unchanging, set data?

Which raises the question whether these data are not taxonomies of their own. In the first interview I conducted for this thesis, with graphic designer and online astrologer Fallon Does, I was having a conversation with Does about how astrology allows for us to escape our respective racial trappings (being either not white enough, or not colored enough) by identifying differently. Does then interrupts me as I theorize on this, saying:

The funny thing is that actually, it’s still a bit - you were talking about a determining thing. That actually, both of us say that we had difficulty placing ourselves within certain subsets of race or gender, but that it’s still being done for us. But that there’s also external confusion. But then - you would call that determining, but astrology.. (16-17)

Does in this particular instance is questioning whether astrology can also be seen as predetermination, contrasting it with racial and gendered dynamics of categorization. Specifically, she links the determinism of astrology with external determination (“there is external confusion”, “[placing within subsets of race and gender] is still being done for us”): either way, ultimately there is less of a choice.

Choosing in astrology

However, I argue, there _{is actually a choice. It is the choice of an astrology practicioner which} part of their natal chart they focus on, or which interaction between placements they highlight. I will argue that astrology can still be seen as post-demographic even with the deterministic elements it has: the astrological subject’s self-expression and identification is rooted in choice. Even their birth chart is private, unless they choose to share it: they will not be categorized according to their natal placements unless they themselves choose to announce these. As well, the deterministic elements of astrology have no societal impact - as I discuss with Does in our interview, there is no bathroom separation in the real world along the lines of, for example, sun signs. Therefore, astrology’s determinism remains in the realm of the virtual and the exploratory.

To reiterate, I argue that astrology is post-demographic because it enables the astrological subject to interpret themselves and highlight aspects of their chart for themselves, therefore

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constituting an identification process that does not yield to normative categorization (race, gender) and rather categorizes on the basis of a pool of smaller identities, ultimately allowing for subjects to be constituted through the combinations of numerous of these smaller identities - which are virtual and do not have a real-world impact.

Gender theorist Judith Butler (1986) argued that “the body is a field of interpretive possibilities” (45). In astrology, this field is the natal chart, and the interpretive possibilities are - paradoxically - both limited and endlessly complex and fluid. After all, a Twitter astrologer may choose to combine any and all parts of their natal chart in order to find a sense of self-formation and identification, but they are ultimately limited to the chart itself: a Scorpio sun can never become a Sagittarius sun. However, they can look through their chart and find out that, for example, their Pluto is in Sagittarius.

Therefore, online astrology can be seen as a closed system with endless variety: determinism coupled with irregularity, flexible ambiguity within the safety of set parameters. This recalls Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick (2011), who wrote about ‘non-oppositional relations between pattern and contingency’ in ‘The Weather in Proust’ (2011). Sedgwick imagines a continuity between determination and predictability: there is a solid structure, within which there can be indefinite variety. This, I argue, is part of the appeal of astrology: coupling the freedom of self-determination with the safety of set borders.

In my interview with her, Fallon Does explains the idea that astrology does not give you definite answers even within the set parameters of the natal chart:

I think I know some things, but I don’t know everything. So you can always learn more, because there is so much. Information and ways of interpreting, you have so many different stars and, what are they again, meteorites and stuff, of which I don’t know all that much either. So there is always more to read and explore. (3)

As Does expresses it, she is still typing herself into being, by doing an endless introspective search into her astrological data. She is performing online self-signification, exploring the cosmos inside herself: she explains that looking at a natal chart and self-constituting through it is a continuous process that does not have a natural end. This supports my argument that astrology is indeed ambiguous and ultimately avoids the deterministic rigidity it initially appears to

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impose. There is no end-all, resembling - metaphorically speaking - how the universe expands beyond human ability to catch up with it.

Nonce taxonomy: the fluid astrological self

Beyond post-demographics, another term that is fruitful for describing astrological identification patterns is _{nonce taxonomy. This term was coined by Sedgwick (1990) to describe strategic} categories that a subject creates in order to navigate the social world:

Everybody who survives at all has reasonably rich, unsystematic resources of nonce taxonomy for mapping out the possibilities, dangers, and stimulations of their human social landscape. It is probably people with the experience of oppression or subordination who have most need to know it. (22-23)

In Sedgwick’s formulation of the nonce taxonomy, it is most valuable for those with experience of oppression or subordination. Those with do not fit the norms, in other words, find value in creating their own fleeting, multiple, flexible identities - and those, Sedgwick would call rich and unsystematic. The word “unsystemic” here indicates that these identities cannot be subsumed into a system and lack in rigidity: they may be discarded or picked up at a whim.

Years after Sedgwick, gender researcher Jack Halberstam (1998) also described nonce taxonomies and expanded upon the term. Halberstam stated that nonce taxonomies are

“classifications of desire, physicality, and subjectivity that attempt to intervene in hegemonic processes of naming and defining.” (940) According to Halberstam, they are “categories that we use daily to make sense of our worlds but that work so well that we actually fail to recognize them.” (940) In Halberstam’s iteration of the nonce taxonomies, they both intervene against norms and prevent chaos: they are smaller norms, protecting against the political power of the bigger norms, while simultaneously protecting against a complete lack of intelligibility. As well, Halberstam believes nonce taxonomies to be easily forgotten or unrecognized, precisely because they work well.

So these nonce taxonomies are, in principle, sets of identities for a subject (following Sedgwick, sooner a subject that is used to oppression or subordination) to slip in or out of, so smoothly that the subject might even forget he is using them. This is a sort of multiplicity and

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complexity that contradicts Western-European history, as described by feminist writer Audre Lorde (1984): this history, she wrote, “conditions us to see human differences in simplistic opposition to each other”. (114) Additionally, she argues that “in a society where the good is defined in terms or profit rather than in terms of human need, there must always be some group of people who, through systematized oppression, can be made to feel surplus, to occupy the place of the dehumanized inferior.” (114)

Nonce taxonomies are not an easy answer to Lorde’s view on difference, however. In Lorde’s terms, difference has been used to determine not only a binary worldview, but also to facilitate the subjugation or ostracization of certain groups, which become the “Other”. She calls for the “institutionalized rejection of difference” in response to this. (115) In other words, Lorde believes that dismantling systems of the binary are the ultimate answer: the nonce taxonomy is in this iteration rather a coping strategy than a revolution. I argue that this claim is supported by Halberstam’s argument that nonce taxonomies are “daily” things and easily forgotten.

Now to re-introduce the object, astrology. Whereas in my previous section, I admitted that astrology has deterministic elements and therefore can be questioned as a truly

post-demographic phenomenon, I countered by stating that astrology simultaneously relies so much on choice and an ambiguous field of possibilities (within certain parameters) that it can still be characterized as post-demographic - constituting the self through multiple small, self-determined identities.

I’ll argue that astrology is nonce taxonomic, as well. Indeed, it does not dismantle Lorde’s binaries and rather operates in the shadows of it, on social media. It is an identification process that circumvents classical norms and allows the subject to grant, in the online world at least, social power to a number of identities that a subject can choose, collect and interpret themselves from their natal chart.

This is reflected by the way that online astrologers tend to include astrological information as part of their bios. While in real life, these same people would most likely not introduce themselves to a potential employer as a “Taurus sun, Virgo moon, Scorpio ascendant”, that is precisely how they choose to introduce themselves to their peers on a social media

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not as flexible as Halberstam imagined nonce taxonomies to be, their place on social media still makes them nonce taxonomic, I argue: they are space-specific markers. As well, the way that an astrological subject can choose to go back and forth between identities strenghtens this argument. An astrological subject might choose to put their Venus, Mars and Jupiter placements in their Twitter bio instead, for example.

There is a point where astrology differs from at least Halberstam’s understanding of nonce taxonomy, however. Where according to Halberstam, nonce taxonomies are forgettable, astrological identities cannot persist without being continuously named. This is simply because the determining characteristics of astrology cannot be easily read on a person. If, according to astrological belief, a person is complex as a constellation rather than the embodiment of one of twelve stereotypes, it will be impossible to pick out someone as a Capricorn or Aries, for instance, other than with dumb luck.

This is to say, if astrology is understood as a nonce taxonomy, I argue that it is one that must re-assert its own presence continuously or fade instantly: if an online astrologer does not continue reminding themselves and others of how certain qualities are connected to certain placements in their natal charts, this will not be taken notice of by others around them. Therefore, I argue, part of the appeal of astrology may be precisely that it necessitates its practitioners to be in an enduring state of self-assertion and self-identification: it needs them to proclaim their identity to others at every turn.

Rather than a hegemony, astrology becomes an explicit defense strategy and coping mechanism. The nonce taxonomy becomes a Twitter biography, a couple of emojis stacked together: [Taurus symbol] [sun symbol], [Virgo symbol] [moon symbol], [Sagittarius symbol] [Arrow to indicate ascendant].

I say coping mechanism, because as long as this practice is strictly online and does not become institutionalized, that is what it is. It is a way for subjects to take on different forms and shapes of identity to counter what they have been forced into in the rest of the world. The person who indicates part of their natal chart in their Twitter bio may face sexism, racism or

homophobia in the real world every day, then gets to slip into their astrologically constituted self online.

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1.2 Astrology and difference

In this section, I will further explore the way astrology handles difference. In essence, the

question is: how does constituting yourself through stacking potentially endless smaller identities affect the relationship between self and other?

On a very basic level, astrological practice rejects a binary. Even when interpreting astrology through merely sun signs (in which every person is categorized by the stance of the sun in their natal chart, such as in magazine horoscopes), there are already twelve categories rather than two.

But it is not merely these twelve categories, rather - as stated before - the combination of them and the possibility for a subject in astrology to choose which part of this combination to focus on. Beyond even the planetary placements in a natal chart, there are even indicators for the positions of meteors, dwarf planets and “houses”, divisions in the cosmos itself. Each of these cosmic bodies carry their own significances and meanings. Therefore, such a natal chart is, indeed, filled with numerous potential forms of identity.

This complexity precludes the possibility of a differentiated or subjugated “other”. No star sign is ever going to be able to claim a majority, as each natal chart inevitably includes a multitude of planets and cosmic bodies. Additionally, this means that when comparing two natal charts, there will often be at least one similarity. Therefore, rather than a rejection of difference, astrology practices a celebration of difference.

I will now introduce a single example out of a string of popular Tumblr posts I encountered, where astrological signs are grouped together based on humorous personality attributes. Tumblr user greycest made such a post, stating:

The “slob but also a perfectionist” squad: VIRGO, Cancer, Aries, Taurus, Aquarius, Pisces

In such an example, six of the twelve astrological signs are grouped together, which produces a community effect amongst online astrologers whose signs are among those named. The post, which has over 50,000 responses, accumulated among these responses a number of

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direct replies: “As an Aquarius, I agree.” says icegirl2772, and raiyneonthe rooftop writes: “Love that Virgo is in all caps, because it is quite true. I ponder that paradox all the time :)”.

A post such as the one above works to efface even differences between astrological meanings in themselves, by emphasizing similarities between the categories. I argue that posts such as these generate even more ambiguity about the meanings of categories in astrology and weaken the ridigity of the system, simultaneously increasing the feeling of community among online astrologers.

To reiterate, astrology works within certain bounds - but stretches endlessly within these bounds, both through the complexity of any single natal chart, the fluid and ambiguous nature of the meanings attached to each categorization, and the tendency for natal charts to have overlap with each other, meaning similarities are easily found.

The value of boundless and ambiguous categorization, such as present in astrology, can thus be summed up to be the overcoming of binary formations of difference which formulate a “self” and “other”, the “other” of which ends up representing the negative and being treated as such.

Even when astrology does recognize an “other”, online astrologers preach acceptance and understanding for the traits of another star sign. Perhaps, I argue, this is in large part due to the ultimate impossibility of delineating an “other” which could then be villified. I will now introduce an example of an online astrological post advancing understanding for an “other”, framed as a star sign. On April 15th, 2018, Astrolocherry posted on Tumblr:

When a scorpio is the most defensive or pleading to be left, this can be when they are most in need of company, silent, held company. Scorpio is rarely healed by your words. They believe these empty in this situation. They are soothed by your spirit, your soul pressing against theirs. Learning to read the subtle cues of scorpio can take a lifetime. These people are cherished dearly, for they have patience and true love (sic)

Astrolocherry advocates in loving and gentle terms for the acceptance and care for Scorpios and their particularities: a particularity such as the contradiction of mixed signals (“pleading to be left, in need of company”). She posits an “otherness” of the Scorpio to the non-Scorpios, then advances a strategy that does not intend to “solve” this otherness but rather foster tenderness and

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heedfulness for it. It encourages a subject to recognize “difference” in Lorde’s terms but subsequently forego its rejection.

The other within the self

While astrology, through complexity at an individual level and endless potential

similarities, negates the production of a cultural other, it also provides its subjects with the tools of facing a part of themselves with which they do not easily identify. In this section, I argue that astrology, through the natal chart and attributes derived from its placements, can give a subject a way to place and frame an unfamiliar or undesirable quality within themselves. Subsequently, the astrological subject may attempt to understand and deal with this character trait accordingly.

My interviewee Fallon Does described such a process:

So my Mercury is in Aries and it’s very difficult for me, because my moon sign is Pisces. So sometimes I feel like I’m the most sensitive weakling on the planet. But then, my Mercury is extremely belligerent. And sometimes I really cannot stop myself, then I’m just looking for a fight. (11)

Does points to the intersection of her respective lunar and Mercurian positions as producing a conflict within herself. Effectively, she uses these planetary positions to gain a

self-understanding and introspection that makes her aware of a strange combination -

vulnerability and aggression - in herself. Astrology gives her the tools to make sense of the fact that she has the capacity for both qualities. It gives Does a framework for this inner

contradiction, rather than to pathologize it.

Interestingly, however, it is the intersection between planets rather than their positions themselves that she blames, which means that the negative quality within herself is produced in her self-assemblage: in other words, she, as a subject, is “fractured”, in the way that feminist scholar Sara Ahmed (1990) described. (114)

Lorde’s binary remains out of the picture in this configuration, which does not mean there is no place for negativity or negative connotations within astrology - as Does humorously notes, her Twitter is full of “Gemini-hate.” (9) However, such negativity often takes on a strong ironic undertone. Here, there is a contrast between the more “serious” astrologers like

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Astrolocherry, and other online astrologers. For example, Facebook and Instagram have a number of accounts dedicated to “astrology memes”, which often take the shape of bashing certain astrological signs or pointing out their flaws in a humorous manner. The account

astromememqueen on Instagram (44.8K followers) posted, on April 19th, 2018: “HOW TO stay on the good side of a Taurus ascendant: [picture of a woman in an evening gown looking into the camera, with her subtitles reading “Don’t come for her food.”].”

Instead of astrological advice, this post is interpreted by fellow online astrologers as a humorous kernel of truth about those whose ascendant is in Taurus. In the comments, Instagram users tag others or reply themselves, such as thatgirl_3425, who states: “leave my food alone… and give me your leftovers”.

Astrology, in this sense, also becomes a post-demographic machine, assigning quirks, interests and qualities to star signs in a humorous manner. This post-demographic process is performed by the users themselves rather than accounts like astromemequeen: it is the users who like the content, comment on it and spread it.

The acknowledgement of “quirks” or undesirable qualities, even in a humorous manner, can also be interpreted negatively. Lorde, in her text, maintains that evading responsibility for one’s actions is a sign of oppression. (114) A cynical account of astrology could maintain that this is what someone like Fallon Does is doing when she argues that her issues with belligerence have a cosmic predetermined origin. However, I argue that astrology centers rather around self-acceptance and giving a place to one’s actions and attributes, the “other within the self”, rather than alienating it from the self. If astrology is a strategy to see the self as a collection of connected fragments, than responsibility is in the very fact of recognizing that a part of the self, in Does’ case the intersection of her Mercury and Moon, is what makes her who she is. And in any case, she is cognizant rather than in denial of her shortcomings. This is opposition to what Lorde states is the way to maintain oppression. As she writes:

Traditionally, in American society, it is the members of oppressed, objectified groups who are expected to stretch out and bridge the gap between the actualities of our lives and the consciousness of our oppressor. [..] Whenever the need for some pretense of

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knowledge with them. In other words, it is the responsibility of the oppressed to teach the oppressors their mistakes. (114)

As Lorde says, an oppressor characterizes himself by claiming a lack of knowledge and putting the responsibility of breaking oppression on the oppressed. In astrology, by contrast, a subject is assumed to have intimate self-knowledge and introspection and is asked to look for answers inside their own natal chart. This introspection breaks Lorde’s chain: the subject, such as Does, can themselves find explanations for behaviors which produces undesirable interpersonal results and give them a place in their own self, rather than displacing them from their body and onto the oppressed person.

Plucking out the self

In any case, the online astrologer, such as Does, finds the “other within themselves” by framing a part of themselves that they do not find recognizable or desirable as belonging to a certain

placement in their chart, or the combination of placements in their chart. In the end, they are responsible rather than absolved of responsibility for the elements that constitute themselves, of which they are asked to be cognizant.

But does that mean that the astrologer’s “other within the self” is a second identity, a schizophrenic, foreign part of them? Audre Lorde, in her text, warns for the negative impact of having to see the self as a different entitity each time, constituted through one element of the self, than the other:

As a Black lesbian feminist comfortable with the many different ingredients of my identity, and a woman committed to racial and sexual freedom from oppression, I find I am constantly being encouraged to pluck out some one aspect of myself and present this as the meaningful whole, eclipsing or denying the other parts of self. But this is a

destructive and fragmenting way to live. My fullest concentration of energy is available to me only when I integrate all the parts of who I am, openly, allowing power from particular sources of my living to flow back and forth freely through all my different selves, without the restrictions of externally imposed definition. Only then can I bring

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myself and my energies as a whole to the service of those struggles which I embrace as part of my living. (120-121)

The “plucking out” that Lorde mentions occurs in astrology, with each social media post

highlighting what can only be a small aspect of a person’s natal chart (for example, a Scorpio sun in Astrolocherry’s post). However, I argue that the online astrologer still remains a whole

constituted through the connection of their smaller identities. This “plucking out” in posts like these happens in the _{knowledge that it is only a small part of a person’s natal chart. In other} words, each highlighted aspect (or fragment) is only highlighted thusly on the assumption that there is an enormous rest of the natal chart present and that a post only applies to an astrological subject who is slipping into the identity described at the moment of reading.

Ergo, the astrological subject is not being asked to pick fragments of themselves and present it as “a meaningful whole”, as Lorde describes it, but rather to emphasize that these fragments _{are fragments, the self only emerging from the combination of them. Rather than} “different selves”, there are different identities coming together to make the self, such as the conflicting planets from Does’ example.

The astrological self could even be described as an _{assemblage, a term introduced first by} French philosophers Deleuze and Guattari (1987): that which is formed by “only multiplicities of multiplicities.” (3) Interestingly, these two philosophers describe assemblage also as “every constellation of singularities and traits deducted from the flow.” (406) They use the term

constellation_{, important to astrology, to describe the map that assemblage uses, indicating the}

constellation as the metaphor for the multiplicitous. I argue that astrology works similarly, working through the natal chart to indicate a warded-off area of the cosmos, a constellation, through which the astrological subject may find their assemblage of the self: a multiplicity (their natal placements and associated identities) within a multiplicity (the cosmos in itself, which within the astrological framework offers endlessly unique and variable natal charts).

Astrology versus the singular identity practice

In any case, the ontologically solid selfhood is completely gone, even in the face of deterministic categories and apparently set, uncontrollable data. It is the power to select from this

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data and use it for introspection in astrology that constructs these selfhoods as non-deterministic and rather liberating, I argue. Putting it in contrast with conceptualizations of gender reveals this in particular. Jack Halberstam (1998) argued that Western society has a “protectionist attitude of men in general towards masculinity”, which has been bolstered by a “disbelief in female

masculinity.” (944) Halberstam suggests furthermore that “dominant sexualities and genders” have a “pathetic dependance on their others which puts them perpetually at risk.” (946) Halberstam advances the idea that in order for masculinity to persist, alternative forms of masculinity are criticized, discredited or put down in order to continue establishing the norm, which is then revealed to ultimately be quite fragile.

I argue that contrasting masculinity with astrology reveals that masculinity cannot and does not function as one of many choices, of which a subject may pick and choose certain parts, enjoy them, use them to recognize an “other” within themself or self-criticize. That is because masculinity offers no aspects, no flexibility nor multiplicity. Following Halberstam, I argue that masculinity is singular rather than multiplicitous, the “other” is a threat rather than a part of the self.

Masculinity is fragile, because it’s ambiguity does not stretch far enough: it is fragile and therefore violent because it must be reinstated singularly rather than multiplicitously. Where astrology is flexible, masculinity is rigid, I argue.

Above all, masculinity as a praxis of identification is political. It directly affects both those who are included and excluded by it. Astrology, on the other hand, is apolitical - the implications of what it means to be a Capricorn sun, Virgo moon, remain relatively ambiguous and undetermined. Advice, memes and aesthetics, I argue, are strategies of self-exploration rather than intended to control others. Ultimately, astrology advances egocentric needs - it encourages the exploration of the self, besides its secondary (and popular) purpose of advancing couplings and compatibility, of which I will speak in more detail in the next chapter.

1.3 Astrology as self-exploration and self-care

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Also, Astrology is a form of self-love and a tool that should be used to help you understand, accept, and LOVE the qualities you carry within u. If anything/anyone Astrology related is making you feel like less of a person for your placements vs. another person - that's not astro

MILKSTROLOGY insists that astrology is “self-love” and is centered around selfhood, which Fallon Does corroborated - when asked what astrology meant to her, her immediate answer was: “I use it when I don’t know who I am.” (1)

This egocentrism in astrology is reflected in common requests for “chart readings”, in which a person demands to know what their chart indicates about them. As an example, on March 13th, 2018, Twitter user feabeau posted: “if I posted my birth chart would someone be able to tell me all that is wrong with me?” His next tweet was a picture of his natal chart generated on the website astrocafe.com, where a user enters their birth data in order to produce the chart. When I responded with basic explanations about feabeau’s astrological placements, he tweeted at me: “omg this makes sense now I understand it a bit better thank you :)” and promptly followed my Twitter account. I argue that this example shows how astrology may produce feelings of friendship and affection, through generating the sense of being helped to understand the self. Fallon Does likened the process of learning about yourself through astrology with therapy, stating:

So for me, like I already said, it’s a sort of introspection, a sort of helping tool. It’s actually a bit like some things you also learn, for example, when you’re in therapy. They’re handles to hold on to. And then you read things and think, okay, I recognize things in that, or, oh right, that might be an explanation for certain behavior I’m not happy with. So that you can say, alright, I can do better with that, maybe, next time. (3) In a sense, by likening astrology to self-therapy or self-care, Does is contending that it is a coping strategy, a measure of self-recognition and even a tool that could lead to

self-improvement. In any case, all this care is still centered around the self rather than the other. Also, the case of my interaction with Twitter user feabeau indicates that there is an affective component to helping someone do this self-exploration, that which Does likens to therapy. I will expand on this affective component in a later chapter.

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The self-care component of astrology can be read as stubbornly optimistic, considering that it yields greater depth of self-reflection and even the promise of self-improvement, rather than a fatalistic giving in to certain character traits. Olesen, in attempting to explain the popularity of astrology in queer communities, posits the possibility that this popularity is an “expression of postmodernist distress.” (9) She cites feminist writer bell hooks (1990) in declaring that postmodern results in "a sense of deep alienation, despair, uncertainty, loss of sense of grounding even if it is not based on shared circumstance" (3). Olesen adds that queer people practicing astrology “certainly” yearn for hooks’ social justice, but also “hope, magic, personal transformation and community - a yearning for a connection with the beautiful stars in the sky rather than with the scum of the earth.” (9)

Olesen’s framing of this desire makes queer astrologers appear rather naive or even childlike, I argue, especially in her emphasis on the “beautiful stars” that represent some sort of ideal to strive toward. Olesen misses that despite astrology’s evident ambiguity, it also has a clear materiality - it cannot be participated in without precise and meticulous data about one’s birth, and is as such axiomatically separate from phenomena such as tarot, healing crystals or divination. It is a philosophy that connects flexible meanings to hard data, and leaves the subject to constitute themselves through the combination of such data sets. In any case, astrology for all its multiplicities remains at least somewhat rigid. It is pliable, but not too pliable, like a

Halberstamian concept of masculinity that gives space to alternative iterations without punishing them.

Astrology also does not “yearn for a connection with the stars”, rather it directly

establishes them. It unbinds the physical human body from its present positionalities and gives it a new shape: that of a cosmos with endless connections and interconnections between set points. The astrological subject, entering their social media account, leaves behind their markers of race, gender and class, concentrating instead on re-constituting themselves in the cosmos offered by their natal chart, where they shape themselves anew as an assemblage of ambiguous identities, sharing similarities with millions of others while still having a completely unique combination of identities for themselves - they constitute their unique self through the combination of these identities. Rather than disparate, unyielding elements making up their self (masculinity,

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blackness, etc.), their self is now a spiderweb of interconnected elements. They pick and choose only when it is convenient for themselves, not due to the pressure of a social situation.

Furthermore, they care for their own self-development by looking to frame their own behavior within these combinations, and they efface the presence of a marginalized “other” by seeing others as multiplicitous and approachable beings like themselves, open for interpretation and understanding.

1.4 Conclusions

In this first chapter, I set out to investigate how selfhood is constructed and sustained in the online astrology I have chosen as my subject. I found that the self in astrology centers around the natal chart, which indicates a series of identities for each subject based on the circumstances of their birth. This identification based on natal charts can be seen as post-demographic, grouping together users loosely based on small, multiple identities of which they themselves choose which they find most important. As I argued, it is the connection between the identities, rather than the separate elements, through which online astrologers constitute their selves.

I suggested that astrological identification can be described as nonce taxonomic, recalling Halberstam and Sedgwick, because the online astrologer crafts a flexible and fluid identity that is an alternative to the rigid identities that they have offline, in the real world. Furthermore, I concluded that the need for online astrologers to reassert themselves through astrology

continuously (because astrological information cannot be read on a person) is part of its appeal, allowing for the astrologer to continuously assert their own identity to others.

I posited that astrology cannot produce an “other”, since astrological birth charts inevitably have similarities to one another. I conclude that this leads to strategies for understanding and celebrating difference rather than rejecting it. In addition, I claimed that astrological subjects can use the natal chart as a tool for framing and understanding parts of themselves they feel are undesirable or hard to understand, such as certain character traits.

I argued that even within such a strategy, the online astrologer still sees themselves not as separate entities through which they cycle one by one, but rather as a whole constituted by the connections between their multiplicitous identities.

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Through comparing astrology to an identity such as masculinity, I argued that astrology is revealed to be apolitical and encouraging self-reflection, rather than encouraging being set in one’s ways: astrology, I concluded, counters the fragility of a rigid concept such as gender with flexible ambiguity.

Finally, I maintained that astrology can be read as self-care, because it invites the subject to endlessly explore themselves and care for knowing themselves. I concluded that because this is done within the parameters of the natal chart, astrology is both boundless and tethered: it combines the creative appeal of fluid self-exploration with the safety of set borders from which to begin the search.

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Chapter 2:

The Social Constellation: Astrology, Relationships, Society

Introduction

‘Sometimes even my roommates and I, we’ll just like chill sometimes, and go through our charts and just kind of talk about it. And when we have like another friend come over who’s never had their chart read, we’ll go through it for like an hour or two.’

This is the answer that online astrologer Joey Courtney gave me when asked about whether he used astrology to connect to others. In my previous chapter, I have discussed in detail the significance that astrology may have for the self and

self-identification. In this chapter, however, I aim to highlight astrological practices that focus on the building, deepening or investigating of relationships.

Through analyzing examples from the internet, as well as quotations from an interview I conducted with Joey Courtney, and connecting them to theoretical works, I aim to explore how online astrological practice organizes and sustains relationships between individuals or groups. I want to explore also how to frame my conclusions within existing theory.

First, I’ll be looking at how to frame the ways astrology offers tools for facilitating connections, for example through offering romantic advice embedded within star signs - e.g. to determine who matches best with whom. ‘I’m interested in this guy, are our star signs a match?’ is a common way of framing such a question, in my real-life experience. In one such instance, years back, I sat down with my

interviewee Courtney, to compare my natal chart to that of a potential romantic partner. ‘His Venus placement makes things difficult for you,’ was Courtney’s assessment.

Not only romantic queries are part of the ways astrology is used

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chapter, is one aspect of how astrology can be used, the act of helping another person go through this self-discovery is also a component of online astrological practice.

In all such instances, an astrologer operates under the belief that astrological data can be used to achieve the betterment of social relations. How does that work? Specifically, how can I understand the forms of labor that are performed in this process? Who does it benefit and in what ways? What kind of communities are formed through astrology?

Next, I’ll be exploring how these communities, formed through astrology, differ from a norm, specifically a state-sanctioned or political norm that dictates how one should act. I’ll examine astrological practice as an alternative practice within the Western state, in order to yield insight in how astrology fits into this state and its demands.

For this chapter, I have chosen to carry over a queer framework in which I view astrology as an alternative mode to classical categorization. I will add to it a feminist text by Kathleen Lynch and Judy Walsh that explores the concept of affective labor: the idea that there are forms of labor that involve feelings, emotions and relationships. Continuing on from these texts, I have also added a few texts, by Isabel Lorey, Guy Standing and Mathieu Hilgers, that describe the neoliberal state of the modern Western world, in order to frame astrology within the western state hegemony.

My goal in this chapter is to see how astrological practice as a social tool can be interpreted and framed. This is part of my larger question on what kind of humans and humanity is constructed through astrology, and raises the question whether astrological practice finds itself potentially vulnerable to suppression or subjugation.

2.1 Astrology as other-centered labor

In this section, I will explore and frame the labor that online astrological practice entails, specifically the connection it forges between one user and the other. In my previous chapter, I cited a number of internet posts that concerned astrology - some of

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them humorous rather than serious. In every single one of these examples, such posts are accompanied by a number of comments or responses: an audience of online astrologers engaging with this content.

As obvious as I made the way that astrology can be a potent tool for

self-exploration, the following should be noted: online astrologers, especially those who gain a large audience and popularity with their posts about astrology, such as Astrolocherry on Tumblr or MILKSTROLOGY on Twitter, do not post about

themselves. They post about others most of all and they gain their popularity through the fact that people relate to their posts. There is an audience of people who find that their posts encapsulate their personal experiences and gain pleasure from seeing, sharing and commenting on a post that does so. These personal experiences may be about their own life or that of others they know.

I an exmplify this by including a recent tweet of MILKSTROLOGY, posted on April 1st, 2018. Part of a series of tweets detailing “how to attract the signs”, MILKSTROLOGY tweeted:

pisces

• write poetry or make mixtapes for them specifically and read/share it w them • cook them a meal or let them do something for you they are passionate about • tell them how you've admired them from afar

• remain loyal 2 them while dating even if y'all aren't official (sic)

The tweet, which gained 599 retweets and 2,000 likes by May 2nd, 2018, generated a number of responses from Twitter users. Twitter user @r0degwhatever comments: “damn... it’s tru” (sic), while user @chromosomebop comments: “hmhmhm will take notes.. hehe”. Other users respond simply by tagging the username of someone they follow.

The online astrologer who made the post originally does not engage in self-reflection or self-examination here: rather, the astrologer presents here a

conclusion about a star sign and its qualities, consequently attracting and stimulating an audience. In this way, the astrologer can be understood as engaging in what Irish

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equality studies professors Kathleen Lynch and Judy Walsh (2009) described as care labor: “other-centred work arising from our interdependencies and dependencies as affective, relational beings.” (35-36)

According to Lynch and Walsh, “relations of solidarity, care and love help to establish a basic sense of importance, value and belonging, a sense of being

appreciated, wanted and cared about.” (38) In other words, an online astrologer may specifically be understood as a person who inspires processes of self-actualization and self-reflection in others, as well as nurturing relationships of others with others.

Lynch and Walsh also introduce the term “nurturing capital”, meaning the inhereted and developed capacity a person has to nurture others (39). The word “capital” here refers to the idea that this capacity is a resource. I argue that online astrology, especially when it rakes up big numbers of responses, can be seen as the willful extension of a person’s nurturing capital to others: introducing an individual’s own nurturing techniques to other people, spreading these wide.

The unrestricted nature of the internet plays into this as a factor: Twitter, for one, does not bar people based on socio-economic status, race or gender, and thus creates a large and rather diverse userbase for a online astrologer to reach out to and share their nurturing capital with.

This is evident strongly in astrological posts framed as calls to action and calls to overcome. Here, astrology takes on the shape of direct emotional support, practical advice about how to deal with life and encouragement for a subject to shape a better future. As an example, see this post written by Tumblr user maurypovichofficial in summer 2017:

Leo Season will be the time for drying those tears you shed during Cancer season and making shit happen! You evaluated you grieved now it’s time for action. Communicate, be selfish but grateful, love who you are and smile, start the new beginnings, accept your harvest with open arms i am claiming it and you should too (sic)

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In a post such as this, an astrologer uses the framework of the astrological seasons to give advice to readers. The astrological seasons are periods of time in which the sun transits certain signs (for example, Leo season 2017 took place from mid-July to mid-August): professional astrologers write their predictive horoscopes based on the stance of the stars, which includes the sun stance (that which in online astrology determines the “season”).

However, “Leo season” in a post such as the above becomes an ambivalent and rather loose frame for the online astrologer to offer guidance: whereas Cancer season here is aligned with emotion and grief, Leo season is aligned with self-love, action and success. The post gained over 6,000 responses: user devourame writes “I needed this”, user felt-u says “Thank you,” and user taurusglow commented “OKAY I FEEEEEEL IT”. Overall, the responses indicate that the post resonated with users, which demonstrates the following claim: astrology, when used to connect to others, becomes a form of affective labor posited upon advancing kindness and nurturing capital.

This process does not necessarily exclusively take place on a large scale of an influential online astrologer advising their followers, however. It can also take place on a more intimate, interpersonal level, as indicated by online astrologer Joey Courtney when I interviewed him. He states:

I’ve gotten deeper into some friendships because of astrology, because it really is an intimate thing to through someone’s chart and kind of discuss very specific aspects of their personality and their lives. [..] It’s been really good for me to like, get to know my friends and kind of get to know the way they function and why they function. And hear their explanations of things. [..] I mean, obviously, that’s gonna help me, you know, be with them in general because I know how they work and I know their motivations and I - and that’s just like how relationships are, like the more you learn about someone, the easier it is to be around them and deal with them and have fun with them, and I think astrology helps people do that if it helps you understand a person. (5-6)

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Courtney uses the word _{intimate to describe the process of helping someone else read} their natal chart: this implies that the process necessitates or introduces a degree of closeness. Additionally, he states that this intimacy has brought him to a different understanding of his friends’ motivations and inner workings. This, he states, makes the relationship he has with such people easier and advances the possibility of “having fun” with them. In other words, to Courtney, astrological interaction facilitates interpersonal harmony rather than strife and can directly prevent conflict.

The practice benefits Courtney as much as it does his friends, however: the affective labor inherent in the process of going through a chart, I wish to suggest, is mutually beneficial. This is specifically on an intimate level, however: on the level of a popular online astrologer, who performs most of their astrological work for

complete strangers, the interaction is essentially selfless - except for, of course, the fact that having a large online presence (numerically especially through followers, numbers of retweets per tweet, etcetera) benefits an individual: they may use such a position to promote their own needs at times. MILKSTROLOGY, for example, offers paid personalized chart readings. In both cases, I argue, astrological practice can be read as other-centered work that advances nurturing capital, both on an intimate interpersonal level as on a more widespread level.

2.2 Astrology as anti-hegemonic

In this section, I will explore whether astrological practice, specifically in the way I believe it furthers nurturing capital, can clash with norms and hegemonies and subsequently inspire resistance to itself.

The potency of online astrology, I argue, is in its ability to reach a large audience with nurturing capital. However, if this is so essential to astrology, does that mean it’s a unique feature that astrology offers? Does that mean astrology is

compensating for something these people are missing in their lives? And therefore, is astrology potentially representative of something that was deliberately repressed in

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the lives of these people? Is the alternative mode of astrology representative of something that counters the hegemony, the norm?

Astrology: irrational and feminine

First, I want to demonstrate the ways through which astrology already has been suppressed and prevented from becoming anything resembling a dominant.

Olesen (2014) classifies astrology as an “irrational knowledge system”. (5) Indeed, I have found that the knowledge astrology offers is unverifiable and

imprecise. While a natal chart has precise data (e.g. the moon can factually proven to have been transiting the Leo constellation at my birth), the same can not be said for the meanings attached to the placements in the natal chart. The idea that, for example, a Pisces will “remain loyal to you even when you aren’t dating”, as

MILKSTROLOGY claims, cannot be subject to scrutiny. Astrology, to summarize, resides automatically within the alternative knowledges, the non-factual, the intuitive and the emotional. It cannot make any claim to the scientific, I contend.

So, astrology is barred from encountering the hegemony through its

irrationality. However, that is just one of three factors, I argue. Another factor is the nature of astrology as care labor which advances nurturing capital.

In the previous section, I connected astrology to the concept of care labor. According to Lynch and Walsh, care labor has low status. They state that “high status for both men and women is inversely related to the doing of love, care and solidary work.” (50) In other words, care work is relegated to a lower societal status.

Additionally, it is often gendered (as feminine) and racialized (to the racial other), according to Lynch and Walsh. (49) Essentially, they claim that care labor is both intrinsically connected to those individuals that do not represent the norm, as well as intrinsically low-value because of this. I argue that this same logic extends to

astrology as a practice of care labor. I stake my claim on the following: if astrology was a system that benefitted the ego without requiring care, its status would be inversely higher and references to its irrational nature would be inversely lower. It

Connecting Cosmic Bodies: Reading self, other and community through astrology on social media