The Kings
Here we reach what is traditionally seen as the apex of the court cards, and therefore the apex of the suits: the elder male royalty of the Minor Arcana. If the Queens are seen as the nurturing, emotionally caring and protective figures in the royal court (like the Empress), then the Kings are often seen as the true masters and leaders of the four suits of the Minor Arcana. Analogous to the Emperor in the Major Arcana, people like to give the Kings the role of masculine power — they are seen as firm, managerial, and decisive. They’re also seen as the “most mature” of the court cards.
I simply don’t subscribe to the idea that the King is “more mature” or is of greater mastery than the Queen in each of the suits, as if the King and/or their attributes are inherently superior to those of the Queen; those are part of the set of dangerous and toxic patriarchal beliefs that make the tarot an unwelcoming place for Ace, Aro, and queer people.
The idea of the absolutely masculine supremacy of the Kings (usually described with terms like “dominant masculine energy”) is something I’ve struggled with, off and on, throughout my time learning and exploring the tarot. Part of it is because, like the majority of other people in North American society, I grew up watching various movies and TV shows that showed the Queen being portrayed frequenly as subordinate and deferential to the King. Part of it is also very much coloured by my experience with older male authority figures, and my own father, with whom I’ve had a very…complicated relationship (to put it mildly).
On the one hand, I’ve found myself viewing such figures as mentors and teachers, imparting wisdom, discipline and guidance; leaders who passed on their power and knowledge to future generations, training them to manage and wield that power responsibily. On the other hand, I’ve seen such people lord their power over others in toxic, manipulative, and narcissistic ways. They used their power to disempower and disenfranchise others around them, to either satisfy their own bloated egos, or protect their hypervunlerable sense of anxiety and insecurity.
In the wider world, it’s hard to see the rising tide of fascism and hypercapitalist far right-wing social politics, and not recognize see the presence of the Kings at their most sociopathic and tyrannical. For those who are survivors of abuse, especially from cis men, this can lead to the Kings being especially problematic if their commonly ascribed personalities and traits trigger memories of abusive partners or family.
This also goes back to the issue I outlined when discussing the Queens: How can ace and aro people, queer people, or people who are gender non-normative interact with, and engage with the Kings in a way that is affirming to their genuine identity? On a basic level, many people already do this by understanding that the Kings and Queens need not be immediately assigned normative masculine vs. feminine roles or people, but can instead express aspects of ourselves —which can be seen in masculine or feminine forms — that we all express in our own ways throughout our lives (a woman could very much embody the energy and personality of the King of Swords, just as much as a man could express the energy and personality of the Queen of Swords). For those who have trouble with normative binary understandings of gender and sexuality however, this approach may not be fully satisfying.
With the Queens, we probed another way we could address this issue, by reframing their traditional feminine archetypes of the Queens (and similarly treating the Kings, Pages and Knights) into gender neutral or gender non-binary archetypes that accentuate their core personalities. Many modern tarot authors have more explicitly done this by renaming the Court Cards in their decks, assigning them titles that speak more directly to those same core personalities. Others still have attempted a similar effect by keeping the traditional names for the court cards, but subverting the assumed gender (and race and able-bodiedness) of the imagery.
Another way to address this question is something I’ve been exploring myself; over time, I’ve come to view the King and the Queen on equal footing, with their realms of mastery within their suits grounded in two different, yet strongly connected spheres. I was inspired to think of this with a description of the Kings and Queens that I chanced upon at Incandescent Tarot:
“…while the Queens deal with a flexible and personal relationship to their suit, the Kings take their connection outwards, using their expertise in the social world. Perhaps because of this they can tend towards being inflexible, though at their best they’re even-keeled, confident, and determined.”
If the Queens then, have a more inward-focused, free-flowing archetypal energy (which conceptually fits in with the ideas of the Queens as nurturing guardians), then the Kings have a more outward-focused, rigid archetypal energy. Both equal in power and importance, but deal with differing aspects of the self. This also makes sense when thinking about the theme of balance in the tarot. So how does this apply to the ways that ace and aro people can interact with the Kings?
The King of Pentacles is, like the Queen, someone who is awash in life and abundance. The greenery around them them is so dense that its hard to actually see where the plant life around them ends, and the imagery of leaves on their robe (reminiscient of a bean plant, like on the Seven of Pentacles) begins. Their stance is open (note the position of their foot, but also note the presence of armour, a reminder that they still mean business and are not to be trifled with), and their head is slightly cocked, as if to hear better what you have to say to them. Their hand holds the emblematic pentacle, but compare it to how the person in the four of pentacles holds on to the pentacle in their hands. If the Four of Pentacles jealously guards what they have, the King is ready and willing to share.
When thinking about this card, I think about one particular mutual aid group on Facebook that I belonged to at the height of the pandemic. Amidst the occaisional bouts of community drama (usually a bad actor spouting remarkably vicious classism and poor-shaming, who would be quickly shut down by the moderators and the rest of the group) it was a place where people asked for what they needed — money to fend off an eviction, or groceries to stave off starvation, or clothes for children to protect them from the cold — and people answered and gave it, no questions asked. Others cooked fresh full meals in their own kitchen, leaving them out on a covered bridge leading up to a subway station, free for needy families to take. The community came together and shared what we had plenty of, with those who had nothing. In a sense, we were all, collectively, the King of Pentacles.
In the present, I see this same dynamic writ large on Twitter, with black and indigenous queer people (including ace and aro folks) posting their Venmo, PayPal and CashApp links in the hope of getting enough funds to stay off of the streets, or to help bring them one step closer to coming out from under the thumb of an oppressive family home. Like our CareMongering group used to be, it’s not perfect, and not everyone gets the help they need when they need it, but it exists as the quickest and the most effective way for people to connect with those with the means to help them. In our lives, the King of Pentacles challenges us to follow these examples, as we are able. Of course, no one is saying you have to cook dozens of hot meals for total strangers, or pay off a random Twitter user’s rent for a month. But the King of Pentacles does say that in the places where we are materially or financially plentiful, we have the opportunity to lend our support to those in need wherever and whenever we can (regardless of whether or not they’re queer, ace or aro). Do you have books in your personal library that you’re not reading? Perhaps there’s a literacy centre or a family in your neighbourhood who could use them. Do you have clothes in your closet that have hung untouched since before the pandemic? Perhaps there’s a group holding a used clothing drive in your area, or maybe there’s a family on Freecycle who’s in need of what you have. Or maybe instead of indulging in a hot drink at your local chain cafe, you could drop that money into the Venmo of a BIPOC person needing contributors to help them pay off medical bills. It may seem like it’s hardly a difference, but by making your contribution and spreading their need for help with others in your social circles, the example you set could help make a real difference in the lives of people in need.
The King of Wands is also like the Queen, in that they look ready to leap into action, seemingly almost at a moment’s notice. From the way they hold their wand, it almost seems like this is a snapshot of a moment in time where the King is just about to grab it with both hands and leap into the fray. (I wonder what scene they are witnessing that’s brought them to the precipice of action: Maybe it’s the “vigorous disagreement” in the Five of Wands? Maybe it’s the besieged person in the Seven of Wands, struggling to get to the fortified sanctuary of the Nine of Wands.) Even their familiar, the salamander at their feet (often seen as a symbol of fire), looks poised and alert, ready and waiting for the right moment to move.
There’s a leading, commanding presence here. The red gown or dress-like garment that adorns their body (a surcoat), combined with their yellow and black cape (yellow cape adorned with salamander symbols) almost makes them look like they’re on fire; furthering this effect is their golden crown and their ginger hair. Like the Queen of Wands, the back of their throne extends beyond the card itself, suggesting an immense amount of energy contained within this person. And yet, there is a sense of maturity here; the King isn’t about to brashly charge into the thick of things like the Knight of Wands. The King knows what to do: To wait for the team that they’re watching, to hash out their own difficulties and come closer together as a cohesive whole. Or maybe shake their staff and tell someone to snap out of their stupor or immaturity. Or maybe wave their staff and cheer on someone for their achievements, or give them a much needed pep-talk. Or maybe swing their staff and come to the defense of someone who’s on the ropes, at the most vulnerable.
The Wands, as discussed earlier, are the realm of creativity, imagination, and passion, and so the King of Wands tells us to take that fiery energy and take command…whether it be of a team of people working under you, or yourself, and your own divided interests and impulses. Use to fiery energy to take control, because stuff needs to get done: That paper isn’t going to write itself, and no one else is going to magically do the work to complete that list of actionable items on the agenda.
It’s easy of course, to think about activism when I think about how this could apply more directly to Ace and Aro people, and there are plenty of powerful examples of this. Marshall Blount (GentleGiantAce), a black Ace activist on Twitter, led a campaign to get the state of Pennsylvania to formally recognize Ace Week in 2021. As I write this, I’ve seen others on Twitter attempting to rally others to get the UK to include Asexuality in its proposal to ban Conversion Therapy. In the wider community, I see this also with people rallying others to the cause of trans rights and trans acceptance, like writing letters or leading protests against the rising tide of transphobia in both the media and society.
But not everyone is faced with such tasks. Maybe it could be something like coordinating a get-together with family on Zoom, or a putting together a distanced hangout with friends at a venue that satisfies the level of COVID safety needed by everyone present. Maybe it could be you organizing and marshalling both the resources and the energy that you have around you, to get to your next writing goal. Whether you lead a team of one, or a team of a dozen, the King of Wands tells us to step up and assume command to ensure that whatever needs to get done, gets done.
The King of Swords is a communicator par excellence and someone who is symbolizes raw intellectual power. Logic, intelligence, and analytical reasoning is what this figure personifies. If the Queen of Swords shows us by example the importance of boundaries, the King instructs others through reason and argumentation — peppered with references and quotations from vetted, peer-reviewed and credible sources— why establishing boundaries are necessary, even if it comes with significant discomfort to ourselves and at great cost to our happiness. I can think of several professors and teachers in my academic career who easily match this persona, but my pop culture and SF/F-added brain that watched way too much Star Trek growing up can’t help but snap to Leonard Nimoy’s timeless portrayal of Mr. Spock. Perhaps it is no coincidence then that Mr. Spock is a favorite among sci-fi-inclined aces and aros.
The King of Swords is a consummate internet debator. Far from the frothing-at-the-mouth keyboard warriors on social media who often post knee-jerk, shoot from the hip reactions (and if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ve all been there — and I’m guilty of that most of all), the King of Swords is level-headed and even-keeled. But don’t be fooled: They also see the “facts don’t care about your feelings” crowd to be driven by pure ideology. They understand that facts on their own don’t really mean anything; they take on their meaning when they are used as part of a story — so what, they ask, is the story that you’re trying to tell with your facts? And why are you trying to tell it?
They make arguments using crystal clear logic and well-sourced facts, and fluidly roll with whatever verbal and intellectual punches their opposition throws at them. Just when the King of Swords seems like they’re on the ropes, they spin their opponents’ words and arguments around until it is the opposition that finds themselves sputtering and contradicting themselves. A great example of this that comes to my mind is the one-off charcter Baltimore Maryland, from Natalie Wynn/Contrapoints’ YouTube video on “Transtrenders”. Engaged with a “debate” with someone espousing arguably very toxic, gatekeeping and discrimatory views on trans people, Maryland doesn’t lose their composure, and doesn’t wind up slipping into personal attacks. What Maryland does attack is the arguments and points being made against them, expertly dissecting them and laying bare their inherent problems.
This archetype is something that Ace and Aro people on social media and the internet are called to adopt almost every day when faced with the willfull misunderstanding, misinformation, gatekeeping and discrimination that come with aphobia. Or at least, it is one that we can aspire to emulate. It can be a frustrating, infuriating exercise. Yet the King of Swords refuses to back down and is confident in themselves and in their position: Asexual and aromantic spectrum, sexual identities are real. Racialized and disabled people in the asexual and aromantic spectrum are real. There is an earnest discussion to be had about the implications that brings for sexual and relationship normativity in society at large; the King of Swords is more than welcome to exchange words and thoughts alike with those willing to have such a discussion in good faith. But for those trying to cut ace and aro people down with bad faith arguments and “hot takes” , the King of Swords won’t hesitate to use facts to expose ace/aro exclusion and aphobia for the empty ideological statements that they truly are.
What the King of Swords is for the realm of thoughts, the King of Cups is for the realm of emotions. Despite the tumult and disorder going on around them — look at how turbulent the waves are around them — the King of Cups remains firmly seated on a steady, stable base. This incidentally is one of my favourite cards in the Smith-Waite tarot, and despite the many, many, many variations on this imagery that appear in countless tarot decks past and present, I’ve found that Pamela Coleman-Smith’s illustration best displays the true essence of this person’s personality (Note the ship in the background attempting to sail through the choppy, difficult waters). Look at how they are seated: legs apart, body open to the viewer, and arms comfortably at shoulder’s distance from each other. I’m usually not one for dissecting cards down to their most minute details, but my eye can’t help but be drawn to how their right foot is ever so slightly placed over the edge of the stone slab upon which their throne rests. That’s the stance of someone who’s comfortable with discomfort; a person who, despite their royal trappings, isn’t at all afraid to get their feet wet in engaging with the roiling water of the emotions. They’re not flustered or perturbed by what is going on around them, yet still have the secure emotional footing necessary to be emotionally open and available to those who need them.
In a lot of ways, to be at one’s highest self as the King of Swords is to also be one’s highest self as the King of Cups as well. It is easy to demonize and vilify bigots, racists, queerphobes and transphobes of all stripes, but one of the insights that I’ve come to internalize lately — which was really brought out by a view of Natalie Wynn’s YouTube video essay on J.K. Rowling and Transphobia — is that for a potentially fair amount of people (but I would hasten to add, not all), their seemingly hateful views towards minority groups are possibly not borne out of a conscious hatred or anitpathy towards those groups. Rather, those views may likely have come out of past experiences that have been extremely traumatizing, or left them with a deep-seated unconscious fear, or sense of acute disempowerment. Hence, it’s possible that, like with J.K. Rowling, someone immersed in the emotions surrounding Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism may be doing so not out of a hatred for trans women, but out of a traumatic experience with a cisgendered male.
Likewise, people who are dismissive and antagonistic against asexual and aromantic spectrum-aligned people may themselves have had painful experiences surrounding sexuality or relationships that left them feeling rejected or demeaned; this is compounded by other factors such as toxic masculinity, cishetnormativity and amatonormativity, which can leave people feeling that they are “owed” sex in a relationship. These societal norms also serve to shame and marginalize sex-positive people, because they stress the acceptability of normative, monogamous, sexually restricted relationships.
When these people encounter aces and aros, who outwardly eschew sexual or romantic attraction entirely (or almost entirely), aces and aros are then seen as “prudes”, or automatically judgemental against sex-positive people.
To circle back to our subject, the point I’m trying to make is that when engaging outwardly hateful or exclusionary people, the King of Cups reminds us to not let our own past or present pain and trauma cloud our emotional interactions with the outside world, especially those who express aphobic and/or queerphobic views. There is another person — a human — who is indeed at the other end of that seemingly aphobic Tweet, or exclusionary or discriminatory reply on Facebook, who is dealing with their own sets of stressors and traumas…many of which we may find very relatable.
This isn’t to say that we should excuse or make allowance for hateful, bigoted behaviour. We should absolutely continue to make the effort to call it out and counter it whenever and wherever we can. But the line between calling out bad behaviour, and engaging in personal attacks on the person doing the behavior is thinner than we realize. The King of Cups reminds us to be mindful of our emotions in these cases. Anger at transphobia and aphobia (as well as racism, ablism, and the myriad other -isms and -phobias plaguing our cultural discourse) is important, as is the anger at those with power who perpetuate them. But it needs to be tempered with a measure of empathy and compassion for those on the other side of the argument; this is especially true for those we encounter who aren’t in relatively higher places of power and privilege compared to us. The King of Cups tells us that it is worth recognizing that through the hurt that bigoted people direct at others, they themselves are likely hurting too.
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