introductions

hello all. this blog is a place for my incoherent ramblings, random thoughts that feel profound in the moment, observations, and whatever else feels right. 

cassandra is a name dear to my heart, chosen as my pseudonym because of my love and connection with the girl from the myths who was never believed. there is this inherent frustration, i find, with womanhood. this constant need to justify yourself, how you feel, what you know. its exhausting, gut-wrenching to have to prove what you know to be true when the words of the men in your life, the men who hold positions of power are taken as fact.

i invite you all on this journey, to respond, share, criticize, commiserate. this blog will be forever evolving, and i am excited to hear what people think, feel, love, and despise. 

i hold no assumption that anything i create will be remotely original, profound, or “good,” and i welcome all constructive, meaningful criticism. this is for me to grow as a writer, and find community. i have no intention to stagnate, and appreciate quality negative feedback over meaningless, empty praise.

this is not a promise of quality, of any sort of artistic merit, but what i write will be true to how i feel, and i think there’s something valuable there. some posts may feel like they are attempting and failing at quality, like they are reaching and grasping for truth and falling victim to over-dramaticization, tainted by the all-too familiar angst of a young woman. i will never apologize for how much i feel, for how strongly i express myself. there is power in refusing to shrink after hearing that you are “too much”- and this is something that i have been told all my life, and i have no expectations of that changing. i’m sure there are many others who can relate.

and finally, something i would like everyone to remember, as nuance is often lost on the internet: we are all people. let’s not villainize or generalize. take people at their best, assume ignorance before malicious intentions. however, this blog has no space for any of the “isms,” as you might say. any sort of blind, unseeing hatred will be met with a swift block.

this is an old blog repurposed: for those who still follow from my taylor blog days- you are welcome to stay or welcome to leave, though i hope you stay <3

the license to devalue femininity

i’ve taken an interest in astrology since i was fourteen, and have been absorbing as much information as i could these past five years. my first impression was of the simple sun sign pop astrology that dominates our cultural awareness today. it can be easily written off as frivolous and inaccurate generalizations, a hobby for immature women. i’ve seen it described (with no traceable irony) by men in my life as a genuine source of discrimination, that it causes these shallow women to write off people and deny relationships because of the month they were born in. there is a biting resentment in their voices when they make these statements, a tone i am all too familiar with, making itself heard when men discuss women that they hate.

i found myself making the argument that perhaps we have all made at least once in our lives: sure, there may be some women who do that, but I’m not like that. 

but these past couple years i have found myself re-evaluating this argument, to wonder why this harmless pastime evoked such emotional, visceral reactions in these men (and i have heard this criticism from women as well, but it is mainly men that i hear this from- and later i will elaborate on why i think this dismissal and villainization of astrology is a gendered phenomenon). 

because the more you learn about astrology, the more you understand that it is nowhere near simplistic. you may not believe in it, may not practice it, but you cannot deny its validity as an ancient spiritual practice, one that is mathematically based, grounded in the physical world, and has been used for millennia. it requires years of in-depth research to have a grasp on it, and even then, it is impossible to learn it all. you can find skeptics understanding and accepting the butterfly effect, the flap of wings thousands of miles away changing the course of your life- is it so strange to suggest that of the stars, these massive bodies with measurable gravitational pulls could do the same? after all, all astrology is is patterns. an understanding of cycles, observations dating back thousands of years.

regardless, i am not here to proselytize. i have not come to my own conclusion about astrology, am not sure if i “believe” in it. but a spiritual practice does not require truth to have tangible meaning. and that is the argument that i will be making, that astrology has real, felt effects and influence regardless of its disputed “truth”. 

so how is it any different than any other religion or spiritual practice? why is it associated with frivolity, and sometimes even hatred?

and why do we feel the need to make ourselves distinct from other women? from the caricatures that men offer up of us? should we be making these defenses in the first place, should we be okay with allowing these generalizations to exist as long as men understand that we are not among these women they resent? 

because do we ever gain freedom from these generalizations anyway? no matter how much you insist that you are “not like other girls” (to be cliche), you will always be like other girls. there is no escape. no way to argue your way out, prove them wrong-they are not looking to be proven wrong, not willing to change their minds about this. it is a universal truth that they believe they are stating, when you hear that boiling anger that laces their words. nothing you say will ever truly convince a man who does not believe women could have more insight than him.

something that i have discovered, in my years of study, is the fact that learning astrology requires a great deal of introspection and empathy. it forces you to dive deep into why and how you think certain things, why you react certain ways, the way you develop relationships with others. through reading the charts of my friends and family, casually, without any presumption of truth of the practice, it has stimulated intensely raw and vulnerable conversations. i would leave each reading with a much greater understanding of the people i love, having strengthened our relationship through emotional vulnerability.

and there is the root of it all, it seems. emotional vulnerability is something every man is taught to fear.

and what is misogyny, but hatred borne out of fear? from being taught that woman is lesser, that femininity, emotions, are weakness? that to act or behave in a way that remotely resembles womanhood is shameful. to be a womanly man is to deny your station. to have power handed to you and toss it away. it is an embarrassment, to be avoided at all costs.

this is what we teach men. and we also teach them to not process or understand their emotions. and so this fear of womanhood, of femininity expresses itself as resentment. as hatred. as a grasping, pathetic claim for power and dominance. to direct this self-hatred of the “feminine” traits, that all men undoubtedly possess, outward. 

and part of this manifests as a hatred of astrology. because of course a man fears emotions, understanding, empathy. it requires a great deal of bravery to break out of the cage patriarchy places upon all of us.

so, think twice, before you dismiss something. think on why something is not true, why it deserves to be mocked. you may find that, no matter how much you may like to believe, that social institutions leave scars on us all, and some are much harder to identify than others.

when something is met with hatred, it usually means it strikes fear. that it has power, unrecognized or not. and we should not be so quick to deny the power of “femininity,” whatever that word is supposed to mean.

did i spend time making this blog instead of working on the Very Real paper i have due tomorrow? yes. i am nothing if not a master procrastinator

we place so much value on the individual that it is all you become when you are dead. but people are nothing on their own. what makes us human is community, the people we love.

when all that is left of america is our graves, what will they say about us? that we were buried alone, under a name and a date. that we were raised to believe that greed is all we are good for, that we worshipped the individual like the greeks did their gods. that we were horribly misguided, that living has never been about individual achievement, but we taught our children that anyway.

it seems that in our fruitless search for Great Individuals all we have created are lonely corpses laid in uniform rows, the different gravestones the mark of a bad habit never shaken, a fairy tale still believed: that you are all that matters when you die.

august is the end of the year, in a sense. a month of goodbyes and missed departures. old friendships changing again. a month of sunday afternoons. of sunsets, of salt. feeling nostalgia for the moment itself. sand on the bathroom floor, aloe running low. a month of basking in the old as the new creeps closer. warm sand on your feet, conversations with old friends. in august, love and loss tend to feel the same.

when camus said “there are those who are made for living and those who are made for loving” and when he said “why should it be essential to love rarely in order to love much”

i am no longer comforted by complaining and continuing on. where is the anger? the screaming and arguing and tears. the demanding, not asking, for something different. something better.

our lives and happiness and love are commodified beyond recognition. prices rise as wages remain the same. this world of private ownership, of rewards for greed, of celebrations for exploitation—it strips us of everything it means to be human. 

where is the rage we are entitled to?