Solace in the Stars: Queer Astrology, Capitalism, and Colonialism

In an article entitled "Who Needs Astrology," which borrows its title from Stuart Halls's essay, "Who Needs 'Identity,'"¹ Tabitha Prado-Richardson posits that the resurgent appeal of contemporary astrology lies in its capacity to hold "both optimism and pessimism depending on emotional necessity."² Although queer theories of the early oughts valorized entropic force, scheming spectacular ends to futuristic thinking and positing asociality as an organizing politics, astrology stages a stubbornly relational and anticipatory frame—not optimism, necessarily, but an understanding that good things can still happen despite the sinking sensation that things are only getting worse. This partially utopic frame explains the appeal of astrology, especially its ascendant popularity in the 1960s and 1970s, where astrology offered a reprieve from more rigid structures of identity. In the so-called 'Age of Aquarius,' astrology promised an era of countercultural change unfolding against the backdrop of widespread protests against the Vietnam War and movements for sexual and societal freedom.³ Now, in another moment of upheaval marked by catastrophic ecocide, the rise of ethnonationalism, and a pandemic that has leveled an asymmetric toll across the Global South and vulnerable communities in the Global North, astrology has gained a new audience who seek solace in the stars. Even if astrology might appear too insubstantial to confront the magnitude of these crises, the resurgent interest in astrology suggests that a system of planetary alignments and charts might nevertheless posit a world that is more bearable tomorrow than the day before.

Astrology, despite its enmeshment in the colonial trappings of New Age consumerism and appropriation, offers an informal but critical resource through which participants can navigate everyday suffering, forge trans/queer community, and push against normative forms of care and healing.⁴ Astrology can both supplement and contest medicalized and institutional discourses of care, which emphasize outcomes and goals over the granular process of accumulating the reserves of power necessary to withstand injury, illness, and exhaustion. Here, my understanding of astrology is indebted to Ren-yo Hwang's theory of "deviant care," that is, the practices that question and unsettle the "teleological and colonial relationship to care."⁵ Indeed, astrologers like Deon Mitchell describe how astrology offers healing to those who have been disappointed by mainstream systems of health and well-being. "When you're Black, or disabled, or otherwise marginalized," they explain, "there's kind of this push in our society to be as helpful and productive as possible, and we don't really take enough time and think about what we need."⁶ This idea of astrology as auxiliary shelter resonates with astrological practitioners like Johanna Hedva, Chani Nicholas, and Alice Sparkly Kat, who posit astrology as a lifeline for queer people, people of color, and those living with chronic illness and disability.

If we are living during a modern astrological boom, the fuel for its resurgence may well have been the 2016 election. As Aliza Kelly, co-founder of the astrology-themed dating app Align, explains, "In the Obama years, people liked astrology. In the Trump years, people need it."⁷ Astrology injected an air of certainty into a political context marked by dread and the open peril of state violence. Alongside these external conditions, social media and digital platforms supported a surge in astrology's consumer audience, offering instantaneous birth charts, astrology-themed memes, and a near-endless supply of horoscopes. The past few years have seen the creation of many astrology apps funded by venture capital, including Co-Star, Sanctuary, and Pattern. These apps promise personalized and (often algorithmically generated astrological wisdom) in exchange for subscription fees and in-app purchases. Although astrology is nothing new, the massive amounts of capital flowing into astrology is, and the line between astrology's independent meme producers and corporate power has not always been clear.

In 2019, Astro Poets, a Twitter account boasting over a half a million followers, came under fire for sharing "sponcon" (sponsored content) in partnership with Airbnb, a company decried by housing rights groups for its role in driving up rent and contesting regulation wherever it has a presence.^8...