Queering the Tarot, page 2
You are witnessed. You are seen. You matter. You belong.
With deep and endless love
for your unique and magical queer journey,
—Beth
* Interview on Sarah Gottesdiener's website, Visual Magic, 2017 https://visualmagic.info/portfolio/beth-maiden-interview/
** From “Wild Geese,” by Mary Oliver, 2004
WORD
In this book I use the acronym LGBTQQIP2SA+, which stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Questioning, Intersex, Pansexual, Two-Spirit, Asexual, and anyone else who identifies as not straight, not cisgender, or both. The + is divisive, and I do recognize that not everyone likes their inclusion seeming like an afterthought. I see you, I hear you, and I'm always looking for more inclusive solutions. Please know that I consider anyone who is not both straight and cisgender a Q, as in Queer. You're already under the umbrella and celebrating our queerness with us in my eyes.
I also know that the word Queer isn't comfortable or right for everyone. This is a word that originally just meant odd (another label I happily claim) but, over time, became a slur lobbed at those who were—or were perceived as—something other than straight, cisgender, or both. It was a word meant to hurt us and other us. It was a word used to make us feel that we were different, not welcome, not safe. Over the past several years, our community has done some brilliant work reclaiming this word that once put us in a limiting box. It is now a word that means out of the box. It's a word that allows us to take pride in being original, nonconforming, unique, expansive, freeing—all beautiful, wonderful qualities. It has also become a word intended to create community with as many identities and others as possible, as we've reclaimed them. The world might think you're different—and maybe they're right. But we celebrate that here in our community, and we welcome you with open arms.
In this book, I embrace polyamory in relationships and families. I myself am genderfluid and certainly welcome genderqueer, gender nonconforming, agender, pangender, and otherwise nonbinary readers. You will see a lot of the singular they pronoun as a result. It is not a typo. I embrace elements of relationship anarchism even though I never quite describe it as that. My own queerplatonic partner is the most significant person in my life, even though we do both date and have sex (just not with each other), and the idea that all types of healing and loving relationships can be equally important comes through throughout the book. I also identify with the kink community and am incredibly sex-positive. So sex comes up. A lot. While each of these things could be its own book, I try to delve into them with some gusto throughout this one, among the other marginalized identities and relationships you expect to see.
Queering something, then, means taking what our society has given us and finding our own way, outside of that society's limits. They put us in a box, and we still find ways to create and prosper and make it the most well decorated box you'll see. Queering erases the narrowness and small-mindedness of normal. It embraces the beauty, the mystery, and the vastness of our differences. It welcomes everyone who needs a safer space, and it takes responsibility for helping those people heal. Tarot is supposed to help people heal, after all. Yet this stunning divination form does create some division where it means to be welcoming with its binary court cards and stress on values we may not all share. In Queering the Tarot, I am literally taking tarot out of the box. All genders, sexual identities, relationship orientations, and faiths are welcome at this tarot table—and I sure am glad you found your way here.
WHAT IS QUEERING THE TAROT?
Tarot is a tool of self-discovery, healing, growth, empowerment, and liberation. Tarot archetypes provide the reader with a window into present circumstances and future potential. It is a window that shows us where we've been and where we are going. But what if that window opened up only on a world that was white, European, and heterosexual? The many excellent books that have come to us through the ages focus largely on the symbolism of the cards, and so the interpretations of the tarot that have been passed down through tradition generally presuppose a commonality and normalcy among humanity. But humanity is diverse—culturally, spiritually, sexually. Tarot has the power to serve a greater population if we allow ourselves to unlock the tarot's deeper meanings, if we allow ourselves to queer the tarot.
People regularly ask, “Why tarot?” when I tell them what I do with my life. I never even know where to start answering that question because the real answer is that tarot saved my life at a time when I was experiencing a crisis of faith and complete personal meltdown. I was a freshman in college, away from an alcoholic, poverty-laden home for the first time. It was supposed to be a fresh start, but I was raped twice in one month and then lived with a genuine sociopath who stole my identity in a number of terrifying ways while pretending to be my best friend in the world. I was also deeply in the closet, trying to make it work with men and fit into Christian boxes I was never meant to fit into. I was deeply depressed and in the thrall of undiagnosed PTSD. I was lost. I wanted answers from somewhere, anywhere, and when a friend handed me a novelty deck in the basement of our dorm almost as a joke, I started finding them. To me, then, tarot is about healing, survival, and empowerment. It is about finding a way to thrive when the whole world seems to be against you. Tarot is about finding a way through your past and making sure you're not repeating your own unhealthy cycles. Tarot is life. I know that sounds dramatic, but the world is cruel and we need answers, straight talk, and empowerment. That's what tarot gives us, and for many people it's the difference between turning your life around and spiraling into complete disconnection.
Tarot is and can be a tool of the oppressed. It has been by my side as I created a company for queer art and artists, as I developed resources for projects aimed at donating money to Black Lives Matter, and as I encouraged and empowered others to march to the beat of their own drum—and when that drum was taken away, just to march. Yet this set of 78 cards isn't perfect. A standard deck gives in to outdated stereotypes of gender roles, heterosexism, European centrism, and gender binarism. It pushes forward toxic capitalism in much of its approach. It weirdly subscribes to a number of Christian principles, many of which are harmful to almost everyone likely to pick up a tarot deck. If you don't fit into a straight, white, cisgender mold, a traditional tarot deck may not hold much for you. And honestly? Most of us don't fit into that mold. So our tarot practice needs to be as diverse as we are.
In Queering the Tarot, I take these traditional ideas and remix them into something relatable and significant for people who are not straight and cisgender. Queering anything is about reclaiming it, making it your own, and subverting it to fit comfortably in your community. I queer theatre in my other life by my compassionate and collaborative approach in a field that insists on hierarchies. I queer tarot similarly. I approach the cards from my own point of view—that is, the point of view of a chronically ill, disabled, multiple trauma survivor who is also incredibly queer. I approach the cards from the point of view of someone who wants to liberate the marginalized and works hard to help make that happen. I also approach the cards from the point of view of someone who cares deeply and passionately about the tarot, but whose humanity is the most important thing to them. I boast on my website that all are welcome at my tarot table. I want to show you stories, ideas, and interpretations of the cards that also help you feel welcome at your own.
I started developing Queering the Tarot in a series of articles for TheColumn and Little Red Tarot, two amazing websites that have provided a voice and an outlet for me and countless others. My original intention was to explore the tarot from a queer perspective but very early on it became something else entirely: it became a series of questions for and from the cards. Some of these questions were to be expected. For example, the first questions were obviously about gender roles and sexual identity. There is no defined Empress or Emperor in a same-sex relationship, so what are we to make of these traditional female and male archetypes? Over time, though, my exploration of the tarot became about healing from personal and collective trauma. It became about empowerment. It became about creating change and setting fire to the oppression that has kept witches, psychics, people of color, women, and, of course, queer people down for so long. It became about everyone I knew and all of the things they were fighting, and it became about finding ways for us to win.
Queering the Tarot is a book about reclamation. Reading cards has always belonged to the most oppressed, from the extremely persecuted Romani people to modern-day readers from all walks of life. Yet, even now, you will be hard pressed to find any people of color, queer people, disabled people, or people who don't look wealthy in a traditional tarot deck. I wrote this book for all of the people not represented in the aforementioned history of books on the tarot. This book is my love song to my community and to everyone who's been hurt or told they are less than for who they are, whom they love, or where they're from.
Queering the Tarot is a culmination of years of my life's work making the tarot relatable and accessible to LGBTQQIP2SA+ people, including and especially the most marginalized among us. Queering the Tarot fights heteronormativity, cisnormativity, patriarchy, and white supremacy. Queering the Tarot embraces all body types, all ages, and all generations, loves transgender tarot fans, and believes that bisexuality, pansexuality, and asexuality are every bit as valid as being gay or straight. Queering the Tarot is a reclamation of fortune-telling and psychic vision and a deconstruction of the institutions so many hold so dear, but that like to keep anyone different from thriving and succeeding. That includes the structure and the traditions inherent in tarot.
Do you need to identify as queer to get the most from this book? No. Although it's tremendously important for me to address the needs of the overlooked LGBTQQIP2SA+ community, this book is for any unique soul who has felt wronged, left out, marginalized, different. Which is most people. This book is meant to guide you as you learn tarot, but it's primarily meant to make you ask questions, encourage you to sit with your cards, and learn to let the deck speak to the beautiful, powerful, hurt, confused you that you are. Queering the Tarot will help you tear down walls, including the ones that block your ability to connect with your deck and to become the super insightful reader I know you can be. In order to enhance your ability to connect with the tarot, I've chosen to illustrate this book with the wonderful Urban Tarot by Robin Scott. This deck will visually jump-start your understanding of the tarot in non-normative ways—it is urban, real, contemporary, and it will make you ask questions. And yet, the Urban Tarot will resonate with those familiar with the Rider-Waite-Smith Tarot deck as well as Crowley's Thoth Tarot.
Queering the Tarot can be used with any deck. Use each card's section to get a feel for what the card can and should do or say. Then sit with the card or group of cards for a while. See what personal messages pop up about your life, your subconscious, your community, and your world. It's from there that you can start healing. It's from there that you can begin reading with confidence and joy.
QUEERING THE MAJOR ARCANA
1
THE MAJOR ARCANA
Traditionally the Major Arcana are the first twenty-two cards in the deck, ranging from The Fool to The World. (I say traditionally because we are in a bit of a tarot renaissance, and there are so many wonderful decks reinventing what tarot can be.) The cards of the Major Arcana address matters of fate, spirituality, and anything the gods have ordained necessary in our lives. If we consider the suits of the Minor Arcana as representing the four elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, then the cards of Major Arcana indicate the fifth element, Spirit. Spirit assures that we are being guided by higher principles. In truth, I don't stray too far from those accepted assignations—they just look a little bit different. I do believe there are elements of fate at play in our lives, but I don't think we're its pawns. In fact, that's a pretty oppressive viewpoint. The ideas of fate, karma, and one or several gods choosing for us have been used to justify everything from slavery to caste systems to abuse of members in exclusive and dangerous cults. They are no friend to those living in the margins. Yet I am not without a sense of mystery or romance. I do think there are people that are supposed to be in our lives. I believe that there are places we are supposed to visit, things we are supposed to achieve, love we are supposed to know. Does that mean I think we've irrevocably screwed up our lives if we don't? Absolutely not.
To me, then, fate indicates things that are best for us, things where the ball has already started rolling (and are therefore unavoidable), or anything you feel called to do. There are so many places to turn in the Majors for healing, empowerment, or even just to reflect on one's own identity, and that's especially true for queer people. Fate is not necessarily totally divorced from the queer experience, but it's also not the only factor in our ability to heal and thrive. It's important for anyone who has been oppressed to be able to take control of their own lives. Autonomy matters to everyone, but it especially matters to people who have spent most of their lives being told they are wrong about who they are and how they feel. We need to claim it, own it, and live it. That makes fate almost a secondary or tertiary factor in our lives. The ball is already rolling on that major career change, for example, but we have other fish to fry while that's picking up steam. So what major role do the Majors play in our lives?
As I've mentioned, these twenty-two cards represent Spirit—the often recognized fifth element. Spirit is our soul, our aura, the us that we were given, and the us that we are building. Spirit is what survives and keeps us going in the face of trauma. Spirit is that part of us that is already healed. Spirit is also, of course, the part of us that prays, does magick, and manifests our dreams into reality. The Major Arcana pull together the best of the other four suits. These cards give us the Fire to become powerful activists and fighters. They give us the Water to heal ourselves, and the heart to love in terrible times. They give us the Air to make quick and sound decisions and the logic to ensure we don't float away. And they give us the Earth that allows us to grow and thrive no matter what we are planted in. All of this makes the Major Arcana a powerful series of cards that can be used in any aspect of our lives.
Most often, I use these twenty-two cards to represent the general life and spiritual journeys we are on and where we are in those journeys. Other readers do the same thing, and in fact the Majors are often collectively called The Fool's Journey. When queering the tarot, I take into account the unique ways LGBTQQIP2SA+ people have been hurt and where healing may be needed. I take our unique joys, communities, and chosen families into account, too. I think about what someone's journey specific to all of their identities might be, and how each card looks different in that person's journey. Tarot is highly personal, so looking at it as a monolith is always going to get you in trouble. Still, there are points common enough to all of us to explore. With that, let's jump into these cards!
THE FOOL
The Fool promises exciting new beginnings and encourages youthful optimism. This card represents babies being born, college students setting off into the world on their own, and anyone who takes the plunge to ditch their day job and start their own career. It's a card that encourages big, almost foolish leaps of faith. Such leaps of faith also require us to keep a positive attitude and assume that things are going to work out for the best. This is true of The Fool more than it is not. It's important to view this card as a card of early stages or starting fresh. There are a lot of cards that show major upheaval, big risks, and new chapters. This one is special because we aren't starting a new chapter. We're starting a totally new book. That means the road ahead might get treacherous, but we're meant to learn from the pitfalls.
The Fool shows up frequently when we're starting on our path toward our soul's purpose. It came up a lot when I made my decision to move to the Midwest. It came up when I started my theatre company. It came up when I said, “screw day jobs,” and made writing and tarot my career. All of these were big, bold choices that I knew were right for me. And they were also all times I listened to my intuition and followed what I knew to be a calling. That is really where The Fool shines—in getting us to live out our highest purpose.
It makes sense, then, that this card comes up frequently for queer seekers. (A seeker or querent is anyone turning to the tarot for guidance.) We cannot live our soul's purpose if we are denying pieces of who we are. If you're considering or have recently come out of the closet, you will likely get the encouraging message of The Fool. You really cannot start your soul's journey or work toward your purpose carrying big secrets on your shoulders. That's not to say that this card doesn't encourage experimentation. Quite the opposite. Admitting you're queer and deciding which letter of the beautifully long acronym we use now are totally different. My own journey has seen several different identities, all of them queer, and all of them honoring who I truly was at that time.
I mentioned though, that this card came up a lot when I was making my decision to move to the American Midwest. That was an incredibly queer application of this card. Why? Well, I was living in the Bible Belt, attending a Baptist college that refused to let students form a Queer Student Alliance. The college even banned any new groups from being formed on campus in retaliation. I was in the closet for most of that hubbub, and I'm not sure which side of the closet was worse. All I know is that from my side, it hammered home the self-loathing I'd felt over my sexuality for years. It was not a healthy environment for me to be in. The Midwest is hardly a paragon of radical politics, but it's also not a Baptist-run cesspool where even rumors of LGBTQQIP2SA+ students getting together would cause an administrative meltdown. The Fool showed up to encourage me to literally start a new journey, one where I could make my own way and find my own voice in an environment where it was at least marginally safer to do so. That's what The Fool wants for all of us: to find a place where we can truly begin our journey.
