Gemini: Mx. Nuance of Zodiac

A meditation on the third sign of the zodiac 🤓

May 19, 2023

As the Sun nears the end of its annual trek through Taurus, the zodiac’s Venusian comfort-seeker, I’ve been thinking ahead to Gemini season. It’s partly for logistical reasons. My solar return is next Wednesday, May 24; my girlfriend, a fellow Gemini Sun, turns 30 in early June. This time of year is predictably hectic, yet its frenzied pace seems to sneak up on me every time.

Gemini energy, too, is surprising. Or perhaps “evasive” is a better word. Like clockwork, whenever I think I’ve got this sign figured out, I learn or experience something that complicates my understanding. It refuses containment, slipping through my fingers like…well, air.

And I couldn’t help but wonder, what if that’s the whole point?

I’m beginning to think that malleability — of thought, of form — is one of the great lessons Gemini can teach us. Geminis have a profound capacity for nuance, for we know that our world is comprised of spectrums, not binaries. Rigid categories are just too simplistic to capture the multitudes and contradictions of the human condition.

Join me, if you will, for an exploration of the third sign of the zodiac. I’m a 12th House Gemini Sun, so I’ve got a lot of thoughts.

Gemini energy is evasive, but it is not enigmatic. This air sign is ruled by Mercury, the fast-moving planet of learning, communication, and transportation. We see that rulership reflected in Geminis’ characteristic curiosity, quick wit, and sociability.

In my old newsroom at Logo, I was one of three Geminis on a four-person team. I know more Geminis who work in journalism than I can count. We’re drawn to this profession because it rewards ~~nosiness~~ inquisitiveness and the gift of gab, two of our defining traits.

Which brings me to my next point: Geminis love to talk. Sometimes we just love to hear ourselves talk, which I can bravely say as a Gemini myself. And when we aren’t embellishing a personal anecdote for the sake of The Story™️ or telling a white lie so well that it eventually becomes our truth, we tend to be open books. Not vulnerable, per se, but Geminis usually err on the side of over-sharing. As my girlfriend and I often joke, we’re great at keeping secrets as long as they’re not our own.

Geminis be chattin’ — and when we can’t run our mouths, we will send you paragraph-long texts.

Gemini is one of the four mutable signs, whose astrological seasons correspond with the transitional phases between meteorological seasons. Its energy is inherently changeable, hence the fickleness and fear of commitment sometimes ascribed to Gems.

In traditional astrology, Mercury, our ruler, is considered androgynous. In my personal planetary devotion practice, I always imagine Mercury as nonbinary. The god Hermes, Mercury’s equivalent in the Greek pantheon, can move freely and fluidly between the human realm and the underworld. I have a running joke with my friends that all queer Geminis are vers. It’s not a hard-and-fast rule — remember, Geminis can’t stand those — but like any decent quip, it contains a kernel of truth.

And then there’s the corresponding symbol of The Twins. This imagery gives rise to the infamous “two-faced Gemini” stereotype, which I find personally and philosophically irksome.

Here’s the thing: Geminis do have multiple “faces.” In the words of illustrious Gemini poet Walt Whitman, I contain multitudes, and so do you. Part of being a functional adult who maintains mature relationships with others is knowing how to “read the room.” Geminis are naturally good at adapting in social settings — not to deceive or manipulate others, but to connect more easily. It’s reductive and inaccurate to write off this nimbleness as innately bad. It also leaves no room for nuance, Geminis’ favorite word in the English language. And we love words, so that’s saying something.

I’m reminded of a beautiful conversation I had in 2022 with writer, organizer, and fellow Gemini Mimi Zhu, whose debut book Be Not Afraid of Love was published last August. (I profiled Mimi for them., if you’re curious.) We spoke at length about the concept of “both/and,” a cognitive reframing tool Mimi learned about in therapy as an alternative to black-and-white thinking.

Both/and creates space for complexity and contradiction. In their book, Mimi reflects on how they simultaneously missed their abusive ex-partner and seethed with rage over how badly they treated them. Contrary to what our category-obsessed world wants us to believe, multiple truths can coexist.

Geminis embody this principle. We don’t shy away from nuance; we embrace it, and we’re mentally flexible enough to reevaluate our conclusions when new information comes to light. I view this as a superpower in a world where punitive, all-or-nothing perspectives reign supreme.

To that end, our truth(s) can and will evolve over time. Each of us is a living, breathing being navigating an equally dynamic world. Change is the pretty much life’s only guarantee — other than death, which is Scorpio territory. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Geminis and Scorps are two of the most hated zodiac signs. We’re avatars of deeply human inevitabilities most people would rather ignore.

Gemini season begins on May 21. In honor of this sign, I challenge you to recognize the areas of your life where “both/ands” are present — or where this tool could provide a helpful reframe. You might start by looking at the house where Gemini falls in your birth chart. If you have any prominent planets or placements in Gemini, consider those too.

The binary industrial complex doesn’t want you to know this, but you are allowed to contradict yourself. You’re also free to change your mind. When you practice acknowledging your complexities, you expand your capacity for self-understanding and -compassion.

Recommended Resources:

The Astrology Podcast’s episode about Gemini
The Astrology Podcast’s Mercury deep dive
The Strology Show’s Mercury primer featuring Gabe Rosas & Jason Kei
Any Gemini-related writing by Colin Bedell (@queercosmos)
Be Not Afraid of Love by Mimi Zhu