Speaking Truth to Power: Thoughts On Pluto In Aquarius

A programming note: Our last workshop of January, an overview of the Astrology of 2024, is this Sunday. The amazing Anthony Perrotta will be facilitating the group. Everyone who signs up gets the replay. 
If you want to get a taste of their teaching style, and some of the aspects they’ll be going into detail on, listen to this week’s podcast episode here. 

Earlier this week, Pluto, the planet of the underworld, destruction, death, and rebirth went into Aquarius, the symbol of humanity, technology, disruption, and collective care. It will stay there until 2043. This is an archetype of revolution and great changes around epochs of humanity and technology. The last time Pluto was in Aquarius coincided with the American Revolution and the Industrial Revolution; at the tail end of the transit, the Haitian Revolution began.

Because we live in a shadow culture, it is the shadow that is easiest to see and access. Pluto in Aquarius feels like people live-streaming the bombs going off in Gaza. It feels like people contracting away from collective care and into hyper-individualism. It feels like people numbing out and distancing themselves from feelings for hours every day on their screens: even if there are warm, alive bodies in the same room. 

It’s never the planets that are the problem. 

The cosmos isn’t happening to us, it’s happening with us. 

It’s the people I’m concerned with. 

It’s the people I still have faith in. 

Pluto in Aquarius is also more people than ever taking the time to educate about the dangers of Covid and Long-Covid, it’s people buying eSims for those in Gaza so that they might stay in touch with loved ones and livestream the total destruction of their land. 

It’s logging onto social media to find out where the next protest is, the next action to take is, to check on complete strangers named Motaz and Bisan and breathing huge sighs of relief that they are alive, through the tiny glowing screen. Pluto in Aquarius could look like more people than ever waking up to how devastating the current system is, how tragic going into 6 figure debt for education is, how horrific corporatized healthcare is and how there are other worlds possible. We only need our imagination and collaboration to create them. 

Pluto in Aquarius could have us speaking more about the fact that while we often point to The System as being the problem, the system is made up of people: people who enforce the system, disrupt it, try to escape it, or thrive in it however they can. Our relationships with one another have never been more important.

This transit made me reflect on all the ways I’ve spoken truth to power and what I’ve learned from these experiences. There are too many to name, as it is one of my core lessons in life: how to deal with abuse, how to recover, how to go on after the particular devastation of trauma, and figuring out what doesn’t work, the hard way. 

When I was 25, I got a dream job at one of the most well-known and well-respected advertising agencies in the world.¹ After years of waitressing and nannying, this was my big career break and I was thrilled. I was an executive assistant, but eventually, I wanted to be an art director, creative director, or designer. I was beyond elated and grateful, and worked tirelessly, often 10 hours a day, 6 days a week. I literally made magic and miracles happen in my time there. 

There was 1 problem, however. My boss. He was abusive: mentally, physically, and emotionally. After about 9 months of explosive and threatening behavior, I became a shell of a person. In my incredibly naive state, I went to HR to report him and to request a transfer. I emphasized that we weren’t a great match, and highlighted everything I’ve achieved thus far and how much I loved working at the company. Never, ever do this. ²

3 weeks later, he fired me. No one there, save 1 friend, ever spoke to me again. Any career prospects there, and some other places were ruined when I decided to seek help and share the truth of my experience, in a context where that was not going to be received or rewarded in any positive light. I understand how absolutely naive I was, and in small defense I will say this: this place of work, like many others, was outwardly committed to diversity, independence, and were also outwardly liberal.
Like many other creative, cool workplaces, there was an emphasis on friendliness and “work as family,” there were copious amounts of snacks and alcohol on every floor for late nights and weekends. Arcade games and ping pong tables were scattered throughout for folks to enjoy at any time: this wasn’t work! This was purportedly something better, and so, I had expected better treatment.

This experience cracked something open inside of me around work. I never wanted to have this kind of situation happen again. I had to find ways to create good, valuable work without abuse being part of it. Advocating for myself was never going to help, it had only made my situation worse.

The next institutional experience around power and reform I had was in grad school, where I enrolled exuberant and full of hope, ready to soak up inspiration and mentorship from my cohort and professors. That wasn’t exactly what happened, as anyone who has been immersed in higher education might have experienced. It was so bad that the entire group of grad students organized together, bringing up the negligence and poor performances of almost the entire grad design department to the administration of the institution. 

You can probably guess what happened next. There were crickets from the administration. The students, some more than others, suffered the wrath of the professors. For a year, instead of classroom lectures and education, there were classroom scream sessions and frosty critiques and lots of meeting cancellations from absolutely livid professors. Our expensive education was overshadowed by tension and irreconcilable conflict. Trying to get help only made our situation worse. ³

I know this is all so incredibly basic, but not everyone has first-hand experiences of this nature. My loyalty to my integrity and values has come at a huge cost: relationships, reputation, entire careers, money, time, energy, and security. I’ve been traumatized by these situations and many others like it that are even more painful, due to the intimacy of the relationship. I’ve lost entire communities that I thought I was part of, that I have wanted to be part of. And I’ve been thinking of other ways to create change that is different than only trying to speak truth to power, other ways of creating change that isn’t about trying to directly involve those who have no interest in your well-being, even when they signal they do.

Speaking truth to power is an essential step of any change. You have to be able to name what’s going on, and why it’s harmful. Without masses of people involved, massive support (financial, legal) and clear organization, you can’t go up against a system alone. This requires trust, patience, and belief: a kind of belief that is greater than the individual. An imagination that is greater than what current dominant systems offer.

There are many ways to make change. There can be a slower, more incremental change: playing the long game, being the change oneself. There’s the Robinhood route: gain power, amass wealth, and do good for others, as best as you can, when you can. There is the model of the parent not recreating the abuse of their parents on their children. The harm reduction model is so popular for a reason, and that’s often another route. The miracle of someone recovering from abuse, not continuing that abuse, and maybe creating a life of beauty and kindness is a major accomplishment, for them, and the collective. Maybe they even help others who have been through similar situations, thus passing that healing forward: what a beautiful way to create change and experience power-building in a different way.

It is important to build and create the new. 
It is much harder to create than it is to destroy. 
We need both. 

After working for myself for a decade, a huge benefit of not being subsidized by a corporation, institution, or having my entire income depend on one source is that I can live more in my values and integrity. I can protest, divest, and publicly speak out without losing my entire livelihood. That doesn’t mean I don’t lose important relationships, potential clients, or future income. It doesn’t mean I don’t experience trolling, harassment, and threats. It just means I’m not entirely dependent on subscribing to another’s ideologies over my own, and so I don’t yet suffer the exact same consequences in the ways that someone who gets fired for speaking up against the murder of thousands might. 

Because I’ve always wanted to have a career where I could be part of a team, create in a group, have a community, and collaborate with others to make art, magic, and work that is needed and beautiful and that serves the collective’s best future, I can understand why people stay in organizations and don’t speak up or support others who are being harassed or abused. Because I have always wanted to have a career where I could grow with and learn from others, and benefit from the resources of an org, I understand why people make that choice over other values. 

Getting to get paid for something you love and are skilled at is a hard-won accomplishment, and in this culture where work= identity, and where disruptors are extolled publicly but often punished literally, it makes total sense why one would choose the institution, or the promise of popularity, over a more lonely, more unknown road.

A visceral grief of mine is that I may never get to experience that in this lifetime. People often misconstrue someone with integrity and clear values with someone unwilling to be part of a group.

I don’t judge anyone for wanting safety, security, and belonging.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted, as well. 

Maybe, the next 20 years can help those of us who have always felt like misfits, like they don’t fit in because of their values and integrity, find one another…and trust one another…and build and support and grow together. Maybe, the next 20 years can change ideas around identity: that being authentic is more important than fitting in, that there can be spaces where folks can agree to disagree on certain points, but still come together in love.

In the days and years to come, these issues will come up, more and more. 

Who do we want to be?
How can we let down our guards and trust one another?  
When is comfort a threat to our spiritual, creative, and collective growth? 
What gods do we want to worship?
Where does the illusion of safety hinder our growth, and the freedom and safety of others? 
How cowardly are we, especially with regards to existing in this particular current system?
How courageous are we, really: what does that look like? 
Where are our edges, and why? Are they boundaries, or prisons? 

Here’s the bigger questions that has been rumbling in my brain for months:

Where are we, as a species, if we can’t all agree that murdering tens of thousands of completely innocent people on their land is not ok and must be stopped immediately? 

What is the state of our humanity when we can’t all agree that war and violence is unacceptable for a multitude of reasons? 

Where WOULD we be if we all agreed that war and violence was no longer acceptable, and that we have to figure out conflicts through other means?

What would happen as we moved away from defaults of abuse, violence, killing, and death, and more towards life, and honoring life, Herself?

1. Years later, this person was also fired, with the public statement being that he was on sabbatical. Last I checked, he still has a thriving career in the industry.

2. There are absolutely effective ways to do this. Consult with a lawyer before going to HR, and get their best practices for moving forward. This often includes gathering a lot of evidence, complete with date and time stamps (emails and texts), recordings, even videos, and a plethora of witnesses ready to testify in your favor. This may not keep you employed at the company, but it may get you a settlement, or give you much more leverage than going in totally alone. I’ve learned a lot, the hard way, since.

3. There were some really amazing professors at the school I went to, incredible staff, and I met really fantastic people there, some of who I am still close with. In spite of the context, I learned a ton, thanks to the generosity of other students, colleagues and staff there. There is goodness, almost everywhere you look. Things are not all good or not all bad, they are a mix.