The Autistic Astrologer: This Month Will Suck Just A Little Less Than Usual Thanks To (Some) Leos

Plus: Jane wants you to come over to her house again. When is good for you?

Hi Thursday people!

You asked for it. Herewith, the first in a series of monthly horoscopes from our incredibly cool and uniquely qualified astrologer, Bee. (Check out this story to see why and what that all even means.)

And for those of you who didn't ask for it, I'm curious about your feelings about horoscopes and whether you like the idea of receiving one of these every month or could do without it. Let me know either way, if you would!

It's not my favorite thing about this newsletter-driven format that, rather than people coming to your site or publication and picking and choosing what they want to read, things are foisted upon them in their inboxes, which feels a little invasive for certain topics especially. But I appreciate this platform all the same, for so many reasons. So I guess I'm asking for your permission to continue emailing these amazing horoscopes to you every month.

Also, as an extra bonus enticement for those of you who are pro-astrology-column here, if you have specific questions of your own that you would like Bee’s planetary take on, stick them in the comments and she's happy to help guide you. Believe me, I'm asking her how my Scorpio sex life will be during this Leo season that starts today. Not to be too on the nose, but we Scorpios do think about sex a whole lot. Am I right?

One more thing, since this place is mine and ours, whatever we want to call it (not a newsletter), I get to just ramble on about my own little opinions (as do you!): As a Scorpio, I have a real love-hate thing with Leos. I have a fantastic old friend Tom who is triple Leo and who I could not love and adore more. Madonna (still pretty much the ultimate name drop, IMO) and I instantly got along like old pals, but that could be partly because we both have Taurus moon (moons? hmmm). But then there have been Leos, primarily women, who I have absolutely the most difficult times of my life with. I do things for Leos like creating the littlest black bar ever. So while I am currently trying to mend a relationship with one, any Leo guidance on how to do that would be super helpful. Thank you already.

In a nutshell: Hey, Bee? I could use your help over here! Ok, I will get in line.

Xo Jane

PS I believe in everything.

PPS I am currently cleaning my house (my version of cleaning which means shoving things out of the way of the camera – not Corynne's or Christina’s ceiling-sweeping version of cleaning) in anticipation of a summer Zoom party with you all, so stay tuned and stay subscribed. I can’t wait to see you all live! And so that I can pick some dates in August - are weekends or weekdays better?

By The Zine Witch

My Autism is something that has made me a completely unique and quite accurate astrologer. From the time I was little, I saw things my siblings didn't. I believe I inherited these powers from my mom, who passed when I was young.

Last month I wrote about the Summer Solstice and today is my first Horoscope Column for AJPT. (Please do ask me your questions about your own specific situations in the comments also!)

Leo, if you don’t know already, is often symbolized by the lion, the so-called king of the jungle, ruled by the sun: the center of everything. Leo is about light, heat, pride, and the deep desire to be seen and known.

It’s your reminder to take up space. (Not in some desperate, spotlight-chasing way, but in a raw, human act of showing up as yourself and not backing down.)

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how art is our earliest form of confession. It is the first language of our inner child. Before we can express ourselves deeply with words, it’s the music, film, the stylistic choices we make to identify ourselves. Art is how we communicate our biggest truths when we don’t yet have the vocabulary or the safety to say them directly.

Leo is the inner child, performance, play, art, and the creative spirit, and the inner child often steers the wheel. That hurt, little kid who wasn’t included? It can come out in our work or romantic lives, easily. The inner child who wasn’t heard? They will burn the whole thing down just to feel warmth.

Growing up undiagnosed and autistic, home was never a safe place for me to be myself. My family had a way of shrinking me, treating my emotions as disruptions and my needs as flaws. No one tried to understand me. I wasn’t met with curiosity or compassion, only control. Love was never unconditional; it hinged on how well I could contort myself to fit the version of me they could tolerate.

When I was three, I stood in the living room in a diaper and sang the 80’s classic “Voices Carry” by ’Til Tuesday for my family. To this day, it is the memory that they hold the closest…yet it makes me so angry. I sang it like a person possessed. Like a girl begging to be understood. They thought it was adorable. But it wasn’t cute. It was a warning. It was grief. It was the only way I knew how to say, “Something is not right in this house. I don’t feel safe.”

Singing Till Tuesday’s hit ‘Voices Carry’ as a child. My other favorite go-to was ‘Just a Giggalo.’ I would sing I ain’t got nobody over and over and over again ad finem.

As I got older, the control became more sophisticated. It was medicalized…compliance enforced through prescriptions, threats of hospitalization, and regulation passed off as care. I wasn’t supported; I was subdued. And in that process, something essential dimmed inside me. Coercive control was also frequent from my sister. If she was going to pay for anything, she told me she had final say.

My family refuses to go deep. The trauma of losing my mom and everything that followed was too painful for them, so they avoided it. They thought silence was protective. But it didn’t protect me. I was a child without a mother. I didn’t even know what her voice sounded like. No one talked to me about her. No one asked how I was doing.

Today, I live in Chicago, where we’ve been sweating through some sweltering days, and I’ve found myself somewhere between blasting my favorite Oasis records through my headphones, deep reflection on the person I was when I was first discovering this band, and counting down to their upcoming and tremendously anticipated reunion concerts. Oasis feels like the perfect meditation for this time of year: Confident, loud, unapologetic, ego-driven, and creatively relentless. It screams Leo.

Oasis were rock stars long before the world knew their names. They walked into every room like they already belonged there. The song Rock ‘n’ Roll Star is a manifesto to live your life like it’s a movie, even before anyone else sees you as the star. Maybe I clung to that kind of swagger because it gave me a blueprint for being loud, unignorable, and fully myself in a world that kept trying to shrink me. And maybe, my bestie’s daughter needs Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus for the same reason. These are true rock stars who are not ashamed to speak their mind. In a family where I wasn’t being heard, seen, or appreciated, maybe I needed the confidence of Liam and Noel just to survive.

This time of year has a pulse to it. It wants you to stop hiding. To say the thing. To do the thing. To wear the thing. This is a moment to reclaim your voice. Not the polished one you’ve perfected as an adult. The raw, bold, creative one you had as a child, when you just wanted someone to look at you and see you.

My mother and I shortly before her passing. It used to be my favorite photo, but I once showed my sister and she turned away and said that she couldn’t look at it because it was too upsetting for her as it reminded her of my mom‘s passing. My favorite photo of us was robbed of its joy.

Even if you think astrology is bullshit, you might still feel it: the tug to create, to laugh louder, to finally do something just because it feels good. It’s not about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you are when you’re not trying to make everyone else comfortable.

This is the season to be louder, bolder, brighter—and to remember that when you were small, you were already trying to tell the truth.

Maybe the problem was never that you didn’t know how to say it. Maybe the problem was that no one ever really listened.

Horoscopes For July 24 - August 8

Leo