I know this makes me a bad queer, but I'm not drawn to astrology culture . Someone dubbed it "birthday racism" on Twitter years ago and I've never been able to shake it. Sure, I know a few obnoxious people born in March, but you won't catch me hexing every Pisces or Aries that walks into my life.
As a victim of zodiac discrimination myself ( I'm a Scorpio ), I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (who actually happens to be a Leo). But unlike its loudest critics, my aversion to astrology is not based in some chest-thumping, Western-science-supremacist ideology. I don't recoil because it offers a more spiritual, intuitive read of the universe.
If anything, I want more of that in my life. But the astrology industrial complex has moved so far from that. I don't care what an algorithm has to say about my Pluto in the sixth house, or which signs make the best lovers.
It's all too much like a competition — like I was dropped into a SoulCycle class when I signed up for meditation. Where's the awe? Where's the wonder? I just want to howl at the moon! Suffice to say, when I was recently invited on a "zodiac-based retreat" at the StolenTime resort in St. Lucia, I was deeply skeptical.
Typically when I travel, I'm hoping to engage with local culture rather than impose anything that could be construed as Americanized nonsense, and the idea of prancing around with an itinerary shaped by my star sign felt a little arrogant at best and culturally insensitive at worst. Despite my reservation.