I love my birthday but hate my astrological sign. I am grateful to have entered this world on March 31, in spring, just past the equinoctial victory of light over darkness, in the season of new hope that always springs eternal. But most of my life I hated having Aries as my sun sign, because every description of Aries that I have ever read describes the kind of arrogant, obnoxious male that I would give anything not to be. The adjectives are remarkably consistent: self-confident, selfish, domineering, a “natural leader” in the way that corporate capitalism thinks of natural leaders: as head-butting rams who shove all obstacles out of their way. Aries and asshole are close together, and not just in the dictionary. Surely this cannot be who I really am. Surely my moon sign or my ascendent or some planet in some house can rescue me from having to acknowledge any resemblance to this zodiacal toxicity.
April 14, 2023
April 14, 2023
April 14, 2023
I love my birthday but hate my astrological sign. I am grateful to have entered this world on March 31, in spring, just past the equinoctial victory of light over darkness, in the season of new hope that always springs eternal. But most of my life I hated having Aries as my sun sign, because every description of Aries that I have ever read describes the kind of arrogant, obnoxious male that I would give anything not to be. The adjectives are remarkably consistent: self-confident, selfish, domineering, a “natural leader” in the way that corporate capitalism thinks of natural leaders: as head-butting rams who shove all obstacles out of their way. Aries and asshole are close together, and not just in the dictionary. Surely this cannot be who I really am. Surely my moon sign or my ascendent or some planet in some house can rescue me from having to acknowledge any resemblance to this zodiacal toxicity.