Astrology and Gender Transition: A Soulful Real Talk

Why We’re Talking About Gender & Astrology

Alright space cadets, let’s dive into some real-talk about gender identity and astrology. If you’re trans, nonbinary, questioning, or just curious, you might be wondering: does my birth chart say anything about my gender journey? The short answer is yes and no. 😂 (Don’t you love astrology answers?) No, there isn’t a secret “you’re trans” aspect hiding in your chart. But yes, your chart can reflect the complex, winding road of your gender experience. And trust me, it’s hella fascinating. I’m an astrologer who’s been down this rabbit hole for years, working with gender-expansive clients and even digging through ancient texts and modern queer astrology writings. So grab a drink, get comfy, and let’s have an honest, no-BS chat about what the stars have to say (and not say) about gender transition and identity.

I’m going to keep it casual, candid, and a little irreverent—’cause that’s how I roll. 😉 Expect some F-bombs and side-eye at outdated ideas. But also expect depth: we’re talking planetary placements, house systems, transits, case studies (yes, I got you with examples like Chaz Bono), timing techniques, and wisdom from both ancient sources (old astrologers had opinions, y’all) and brilliant modern queer astrologers. This isn’t your grandma’s astrology lecture; it’s more like a late-night heart-to-heart, with star charts spread out on the table and maybe a bit of wine spilled on them.

So why does this matter? Because representation and resonance matter. As a trans or gender-nonconforming person, it can be healing af to see your experience validated in something as cosmic and magical as your birth chart. And if you’re a cis astrologer (or anyone) wanting to support trans folks, you damn well need some cultural competence with gender. As astrologer Michael J. Morris puts it, astrology should expand our understanding of a person’s complexity rather than shoving them into a box. Amen to that! 🌟 In other words, this isn’t about predicting someone’s gender from their chart (ew, no); it’s about using astrology as a tool for self-discovery, affirmation, and timing life changes in a way that aligns with who you truly are.

Ready? Let’s do dis shiz.

Astrology’s Gendered Past (and Its Baggage)

First, we gotta address the cosmic elephant in the room: traditional astrology has a lot of gendered language and binaries. Like, a lot. The whole concept of planets and signs being “masculine” or “feminine” is baked into ancient astrology. Ever heard that Mars is a masculine planet and Venus is feminine? Yep, that comes from way back (Ptolemy classified Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn as masculine, Moon and Venus as feminine, and Mercury as androgynous. The zodiac signs were also assigned genders (Aries is male, Taurus female, alternating… because apparently signs had a binary in ye olde times 🙄).

And it gets even wilder (and more problematic) when you read the old texts on gender and sexuality. I’m talking 4th-century stuff like Firmicus Maternus. This dude literally tried to predict “hermaphrodites” and “eunuchs” from chart combos. For example, he says if the Sun and Moon are in feminine signs and Venus is also in a feminine sign on an angle... then “they will make eunuchs or hermaphrodites.” Yes, really. And he goes on: if certain planets misalign, “women will be born with masculine character, but men will become castrates or eunuchs". YIKES. 😬 These ancient astrologers had some fucked-up notions by today’s standards. They basically equated any gender variance with misfortune or scandal. (Eunuchs, “effeminate men,” “masculine women” – all lumped in with “afflictions” in those old books.) In modern terms, it’s transphobic and intersex-phobic as hell, though to be fair, they didn’t have our concepts – they were working with their limited 4th-century worldview (and a lot of gender essentialism).

So, astrology has historical baggage. If you’ve ever felt alienated reading a cookbook astrology interpretation that says something like “Mars in a woman’s chart means the men in her life…” or whatever, it’s because of these old gender assumptions being carried forward. It’s high time we dump that crap or at least critically examine it. As the wonderfully fierce astrologer Alice Sparkly Kat points out, gender is primarily a cultural thing, not something set in the stars. The way astrology described gender roles in, say, 2nd-century Alexandria or in Renaissance Europe is not gonna fly today. Gender norms change with culture, and our astrology needs to change with them.

Alice Sparkly Kat also throws shade on how New Age astrology (1960s-70s) tried to borrow Eastern concepts like yin/yang but ended up reinforcing Western binary gender ideas. It’s like, they meant well, but they basically said “everyone has masculine and feminine energy” in this super simplified way, without realizing different cultures have totally different takes on gender. As Alice quips, “Really? What kind of male and female are you talking about?”. She reminds us that even concepts like yin and yang were taken out of context by mostly white, Western astrologers, who then acted like they discovered the holy masculine/feminine truth. (Spoila Alerty: they didn’t. And Chinese or Vedic astrologies have their own gender conceptions, many of which got colonized or suppressed.)

Bay-sik-ully: Traditional astrology was built on a binary gender model – useful to a point, but also pretty damn limiting and even harmful if we take it literally today. There’s always been recognition of people who don’t fit the binary (the ancient texts did attempt to delineate what we’d now see as queer or trans folks), but they did it in a very value-judgy way (see: “afflictions” and “vices” comments 🤦). So if you’re trans/nonbinary and you’ve heard something in astrology that sounded invalidating, I’m sorry you had to hear that trash. Let’s remember that’s the old paradigm, and we’re allowed – actually, obligated – to update the language for our modern, queer-positive era. 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Rewriting the Cosmic Script: Modern Approaches to Gender

Thankfully, astrology is not stuck in the Iron Age. A lot of contemporary astrologers (especially queer and trans astrologers) are actively rewriting and reinterpreting all that gender stuff. Instead of seeing astrology as a tool to dictate gender (“you have x placement, so you’re masc/fem/whatever”), we now use it as a way to explore and support a person’s unique gender experience. It’s a shift from prediction and judgment to reflection and empowerment. 💪

One key insight from modern astrologers: Astrology isn’t about putting you in a box; it’s about helping you understand and embrace your full complexity. Michael J. Morris – a nonbinary astrologer and absolute gem of a human – said this beautifully on The Astrology Podcast. They stressed that astrology can be used to “expand our understanding of our own complexity, rather than to sort people into pre-determined categories.” In other words, screw using a birth chart as some kind of cosmic gender test. Instead, we use it like a mirror to see yourself more clearly, in all your beautiful, nuanced glory. 🌟

Another big theme in new-school astrology is recognizing that gender is fluid and contextual. We aren’t born with a fixed “gender destiny” written in our charts. As Alice Sparkly Kat reminds us, culture shapes how gender is expressed. If culture changes, the manifestations of a chart change. For example, having Mars in a certain sign might have meant “manly man” under old gender roles, but today that same placement could manifest in endless ways depending on the person. One of Alice’s spicy insights: if you’re an immigrant, you’re technically transgender because you’ve had to transition between cultural gender norms. 🤯 Like, changing your national context is a kind of gender transition in how she frames it. That’s how much she emphasizes the “trans-” as in crossing boundaries aspect of gender. It’s a mind-blowing perspective that shows just how relative this all is.

Modern astrologers also call out the old essentialist “male energy vs female energy” stuff as oversimplified BS. We’re moving toward seeing each planet, sign, and house not as “boy or girl” but as a spectrum of expression. So when I, as a modern/traditional astrologer, see Venus in a chart, I’m not gonna assume “oh this is the feminine side.” I’m gonna ask, “how does this person relate to attraction, beauty, connection?” – things Venus rules – in their own way. Same with Mars: it’s drive and assertiveness, sure, but not “the man in your chart.” Duh. We leave space for all genders to experience all planets, just perhaps differently.

Importantly, many astrologers now are actively creating queer and trans affirming frameworks. There are conferences (like the Queer Astrology Conference) research projects on queer/trans experiences (shoutout to Irina Tudor’s data project), and more visibility of trans folks in astrology media (Chani Nicholas doing readings for trans icons Laverne Cox and Janet Mock on Netflix, for example). The astro community is slowly but surely catching up. We still have work to do, but at least now we can openly discuss, say, how a transit might feel during gender transition, or how to interpret a chart without cis-hetero assumptions.

So, consider this section the permission slip to interpret your chart (or your trans client’s chart) in a way that resonates and heals, not in the old fatalistic way. We’re ditching the rigid gender script and writing a new one, one chart at a time. 🔥

Planets Beyond the Binary: Mercury, Uranus, and the Gang

Let’s get into some specifics: planetary placements and how they might show up in gender identity or expression. Now, disclaimer: any planet can be part of a trans or nonbinary person’s story. There’s no single “trans planet” (wouldn’t that be easy?). But there are a few celestial players that come up a lot when we talk about breaking gender norms or transitioning.

In astrology, Mercury (top) is often considered androgynous, linking masculine energy (Mars symbol, left) and feminine energy (Venus symbol, right).

Mercury: Surprised? This little trickster is traditionally labeled androgynous or hermaphroditic by ancient sources. Mercury is the messenger, the shapeshifter, able to travel between worlds – think of how Mercurial people can be fluid, adaptable, hard to pin down. In mythology, Mercury/Hermes doesn’t have a strong gendered story like Mars or Venus do; they’re kinda in-between. Some astrologers link Mercury to gender variance because of this neutrality. One article even said Mercury represents the “oscillating transgender” principle

– basically the idea that Mercury energy can swing between, or combine, male and female. I’d say: if you have a prominent Mercury (say Mercury on your Ascendant, or ruling your chart, or making strong aspects), you might experience your identity as more fluid or multifaceted. It doesn’t make you trans (lots of Mercurial folks are cis), but it can symbolize that connecting thread between different facets of self. Mercury is all about communication and mental understanding, so a strong Mercury could mean you’re good at articulating your experience of gender or navigating between gendered spaces.

Venus & Mars: Traditionally Venus = feminine, Mars = masculine. But in a queer context, Venus and Mars are more about how we embody those archetypal energies regardless of gender. A trans man might have a strong Venus that makes him incredibly empathetic and in touch with his receptive side – that doesn’t invalidate his manhood (to hell with stereotypes). A trans woman might have Mars conjunct her Sun – that doesn’t make her “masculine,” it might just give her a bold assertiveness. So, Venus and Mars placements can show how you relate to what society calls “feminine” or “masculine” energy. But you get to decide what that means for you. For example, if you’ve got Mars in Aries, maybe you fight like hell (Aries) for your right to self-identify. If you’ve got Venus in Aquarius, maybe your style and love expression is quirky, unconventional, and gender-bending. It’s really about reclaiming these planets from binary baggage and seeing what story they tell in your chart.

Now, the outer planets – Uranus, Neptune, Pluto – these are the big guns of transformation, each in their own way, and they often show up during or describing gender transition experiences:

Uranus: planet of rebellion, liberation, and sudden change. Uranus is the ultimate queer eye in the sky – it literally revolts against norms. In charts, a strong Uranus can indicate a person who breaks the mold in life, including in gender. If Uranus contacts your personal planets (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars) or angles, you likely never felt 100% okay coloring inside society’s lines. And when Uranus transits those points, it can trigger coming out moments or the “I need to live my truth NOW” feeling. (We’ll talk more about transits later, but spoiler: a ton of folks begin transitioning during big Uranus transits!). One astrologer noted that Chaz Bono’s public transition happened during his Uranus opposition – a midlife transit around age 40 that often brings radical life changes. Sure enough, around 2010–2011, Chaz was 41-42 and had Uranus opposing his natal Uranus, and that’s when he fully came out, did the documentary Becoming Chaz, and even went on Dancing with the Stars. As Lynn Hayes pointed out, the Uranus opposition “inspires a radical departure from anything in [one’s] life where [one] is not feeling true to [themselves]”. For Chaz, that meant finally living openly as a man. 🌈✊
Neptune: planet of spirituality, dreams, illusion – and dissolving boundaries. Neptune is a bit of a double-edged sword in gender stuff. On one hand, it can be that feeling of blurred lines or confusion. Neptune transits can coincide with times when you feel lost about who you are… but also times when you realize the fluidity and universality of your identity. Neptune kind of says, “Who needs labels, I’m an ethereal being.” For some trans folks, a strong Neptune can indicate a period of questioning, when the old definitions melt away (which can feel disorienting but ultimately freeing). Interestingly, when Caitlyn Jenner came out publicly in 2015, Neptune was making some big aspects (it was squaring her Gemini planets). Astrologers noted how Neptune’s influence corresponded with the “amorphous, fluid” nature of her transition and the public’s perception. Neptune can bring compassion and glamor too – Caitlyn’s coming out involved a glamorous Vanity Fair cover (tell me that’s not Neptune’s showbiz, camera-loving side coupled with identity fluidity). So Neptune is that vibe of “gender is a cosmic ocean, not a checkbox”. Just watch out for confusion or idealism – like chasing a dream image of yourself. Neptune wants you to find the divine in yourself, beyond gender.
Pluto: planet of death and rebirth, intensity, and deep core transformation. If any planet screams transformation, it’s Pluto. This one often signifies the profound inner journey of a gender transition – the death of an old identity and the birth of a more authentic self. Heavy Pluto aspects or transits can be gut-wrenching but ultimately empowering. Pluto is also about power dynamics and shame, so a lot of the shadow work around internalized transphobia or fear can be Pluto’s realm. When Pluto contacts something like your Moon (emotions) or Sun (identity), you might feel like you’re going through an inner volcanic eruption – which could manifest as finally coming to terms with your true gender and shedding an old life. Some astrologers connect Pluto with the root chakra and sexual/reproductive organs, so there’s even a literal tie-in if someone undergoes gender-affirming surgeries or physical changes – that’s a very Plutonian rebirth of the body. One source ties Pluto with Mercury as a combo that “provides a rich base for sexual oscillations — when one is in touch with their Pluto-Mercury, they can be anything, actively transgressing any traditional view of ‘normal'. I love that, because it implies alchemy (Pluto) + fluidity (Mercury) = the power to transform one’s identity beyond norms. It’s like cosmic permission to be the phoenix rising in whatever gender expression feels true.
Saturn: I’ll mention old Saturn too – the planet of structure, realism, and challenges. Saturn isn’t “queer” in the way Uranus or Neptune are, but Saturn often represents the physical and social reality we have to deal with. For trans folks, Saturn might symbolize the body (since it’s about form and boundaries) or the societal rules and judgments we encounter. A strong Saturn could mean you take your transition process very seriously, planning every step (maybe too seriously at times, like am I doing this “right”? vibes). But Saturn also rewards hard work and authenticity. A big Saturn transit (like the Saturn return around age 29, or the second Saturn return around 58-59) often coincides with life re-evaluation. It’s notable how many people come out or transition around their Saturn return – it’s a time of “I can’t live a lie, I have to be me” reckoning. Saturn might test you with fears or external obstacles (like dealing with medical systems, family, etc.), but crossing those Saturnian hurdles builds incredible strength and self-definition. Saturn basically says: Own who you are, build a solid life as that person. Brick by brick, honey. 🧱

Now, I want to be crystal clear: no single planet or aspect = “this person is trans.” If anyone tries to reduce it to that, throw a glitter bomb at them and run. It’s always a combination of factors and, importantly, your personal narrative. But the above planets (Mercury, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto, Saturn) seem to pop up in themes of gender expansion or transition. They kind of tell the story of breaking free (Uranus) from old definitions (Saturn), dissolving the past (Neptune) and transforming (Pluto) into a more fluid, communicated self (Mercury). It’s a beautiful tapestry when you look at it that way.

House by House: The Journey of Gender in the Chart

Beyond planets, we have the 12 houses – the areas of life in a birth chart. Each house can represent a different facet of your gender journey. In that awesome Astrology Podcast episode with Michael J. Morris, they actually went through all twelve houses and discussed how gender might manifest in each part of life . I’m gonna break it down in my own words here. Think of it as exploring your transition or identity through every life arena, from your sense of self to career to community. Here’s a quick tour of the houses through a gender-expansive lens:

First House (Identity & Body): This is the big one for gender expression. The 1st house is your ascendant, your appearance, how you present. Many trans folks have significant placements here during transition – for example, a transit (like Saturn or Uranus) going through your 1st can manifest as major changes in your body or presentation. The sign on your Ascendant and any planets in the 1st describe how you project yourself. A trans person with Neptune in the 1st might have a more fluid or ambiguous presentation (sometimes people read them as one gender, sometimes another – Neptune is misty like that). Someone with Mars in the 1st might present in a bold, assertive way about their gender (“Yes, I’m here, deal with it”). The 1st house also covers physical body matters, so it can relate to things like taking hormones, surgery (with Mars or Pluto influence), or style changes. It’s basically the story of becoming visible as who you are.
Second House (Self-Worth & Resources): The 2nd house isn’t talked about as much in gender discussions, but it’s super important. It’s how you value yourself and also material resources. For a trans person, 2nd house can indicate the relationship with your body as a possession – do you feel like your body is truly yours? (The 2nd is “what I have,” and damn right you have your body, it’s yours.) Issues of self-esteem tied to gender might show up here. Also, practical stuff: transition can be expensive (therapy, medical care, wardrobe overhaul, ugh). Planets here might reflect financial themes in transition. Say you have Jupiter in the 2nd – maybe you luckily find abundance or community funds to support your transition. Saturn in the 2nd – you might face budgeting and saving up for what you need, but you’ll methodically get there. At its core, the 2nd house asks: what am I worth? And every person, trans or not, deserves to feel worthy and safe in themselves. This house can show the journey to claiming that worth.
Third House (Communication & Community): This house covers communication, local environment, and early education. Gender-wise, it could involve how you talk about your identity and who you talk about it with. Are you able to speak your truth to siblings, neighbors, classmates? If you have a strong Mercury or emphasis here, maybe writing or speaking about your experience is part of your path (like starting a blog or being vocal on social media about trans issues). It also might relate to pronouns and names – very 3rd house topics. For example, if Uranus (change) is in your 3rd, perhaps you change your name to something unconventional or you insist people use your correct pronouns even if it shocks them (Uranus don’t play). This house also rules siblings; your relationship with siblings regarding your gender might show up (like supportive vs not). And learning environments: a lot of us first grappled with gender feelings in school years – planets here might describe that experience.
Fourth House (Home & Family): Ah, the house of family and origins. This one can be loaded because it’s about your childhood, parents, and the home environment. Were you raised in a supportive environment for your gender expression, or was it stifling? The 4th could tell some of that story. If you have, say, Saturn in the 4th, maybe there were strict or traditional family expectations around gender that you had to break out of (Saturn can indicate heaviness or authority figures). If Neptune’s here, perhaps your family never really saw the real you (Neptune = fog), or there were secrets around identity. On the flip side, a benefic planet like Venus in the 4th might indicate a loving, supportive home (maybe a parent who embraced you no matter what). The sign on the 4th cusp can show family attitudes too. Also, later in life, the 4th represents your own home – creating a safe space that reflects your true identity. Many trans folks find or create “chosen family,” and the 4th house is where that sense of belonging and private life lives. It’s about rooting into who you are, at the very base of your chart.
Fifth House (Creativity & Self-Expression): The 5th is all about expressing yourself, having fun, romance, and even children. In a gender context, it’s your creative expression of identity. This could be through art, style, performance, etc. A lot of queer folks have a rich creative life – no coincidence, as the 5th is where we play and experiment. Drag, for instance, is a very 5th house kind of art (performance, play, persona). If you have Mars in the 5th, maybe your art is aggressive or activist. Venus in 5th, your self-expression might be more about beauty or love. The 5th is also flirting and dating – navigating romance and sexuality as a trans person can definitely be influenced by planets here. Are you confident and open (Jupiter in 5th might be bold in dating), or more cautious (Saturn could bring some fears around being seen as a romantic/sexual being)? Also, the children piece: not every trans or nonbinary person wants kids, but for those who do (or have them), the 5th house can show experiences around parenting and reproduction. For example, a trans man who gives birth challenges the norm – maybe Uranus in the 5th indicates an unconventional path to parenthood. The key is that the 5th is about being yourself out loud. It demands authenticity, and in doing so, it can be deeply healing and joyful.
Sixth House (Work & Health): The 6th house rules daily work, routines, and health – including mental health and medical processes. This is where a lot of the practical side of transitioning might show up. Hormone therapy? That’s a 6th house daily regimen (and potentially a health matter). Surgery and recovery? 6th house (with some 8th house overlap for surgery itself). If you have challenging planets here, it might indicate health struggles or anxiety that accompany your journey. For example, Pluto in 6th could mean you undergo a major health transformation (like surgery or significant body changes) as part of becoming yourself. Or Neptune here might mean sensitivity to hormones/medications, or needing a holistic approach to your health. On the work front, 6th is your day job and coworkers – being trans at work can be its own saga (dealing with HR, discrimination or hopefully acceptance, etc.). A strong, dignified planet here (say Sun or Jupiter) could imply you eventually find a work environment that respects you or even that your work involves your trans identity (maybe you become an advocate or work in LGBTQ+ health). If Saturn’s here, perhaps you’ve had to work extra hard to maintain health or routine, but you gain resilience and discipline from it. The 6th basically covers the nuts and bolts of living in your body day to day – so it’s a crucial part of the picture.
Seventh House (Partnerships): The 7th is the realm of one-on-one relationships – romantic, platonic, even business partners. It’s how we relate to others intimately. For a lot of trans people, there’s the question of “Will I be loved for who I truly am?” The 7th house can give hints. If you have Venus there, odds are you’re quite relationship-oriented and likely to find partners (Venus attracts). If Saturn’s there, you might have fears of rejection or delay in finding the right partnership – but often it means you’ll eventually have a very solid, loyal partner when Saturn’s lessons are learned. Planets here also indicate the kind of partners you attract. Mars in 7th might mean you draw in very fiery, assertive partners – or that you engage in a bit of conflict (Mars) in relationships, perhaps fighting for respect. An interesting one is having Uranus in the 7th – that could mean you attract unconventional partners or have non-traditional relationship styles (like queer/poly relationships, etc.), and you need a lot of freedom in love. It might also mean you experience sudden changes in relationships (a partner could come out as trans, or you do, causing a shift). The 7th being opposite the 1st means it sometimes reflects how others see your gender. For instance, a trans woman might have a powerful Pluto in the 7th – she tends to attract intense encounters that transform how others view not just her, but their own concept of gender. Relationships are often a mirror, so this house is where the social side of your gender plays out person-to-person, with all the love and drama that can entail.
Eighth House (Sex, Death & Transformation): The 8th is a heavy but profound house – it covers deep psychological stuff, sex, other people’s support (or judgment), and yes, literal surgery falls here too. This is the house of transformation, which obviously ties into transitioning. Many people undergo some kind of “death” of their old self – even if not physical death, an 8th house kind of symbolic death/rebirth. If you have key planets here or major transits hitting the 8th, it often coincides with the most intense phase of coming out or transitioning. For example, someone might have Pluto transiting their 8th when they undergo gender confirmation surgery – a literal body transformation (8th) and rebirth. The 8th is also about shared resources and support, including emotional support. It could reflect whether you find allies who help you through (maybe Jupiter here brings benevolent helpers or even financial help, like crowdfunding for surgery), or if you encounter power struggles (Mars or Saturn might be unsupportive family withholding resources or creating conflict). Sex and intimacy fall here too – and many trans folks have to navigate a complex journey with sexuality, body image, and trust. A healthy 8th house expression might be ultimately reclaiming sexual empowerment and integrated sense of self. The 8th doesn’t do anything superficial; it’s all or nothing. So any gender journey that goes through the 8th house is one that leaves you forever changed, on a soul level. It can be dark night of the soul territory, but it’s also phoenix rising territory.
Ninth House (Belief & Exploration): The 9th is about the big picture – belief systems, religion, philosophy, travel, higher education. How does this relate to gender? A few ways. One, your beliefs about gender (maybe you grew up in a religion that said “no no” to being trans, which you then had to deconstruct – that’s a 9th house process). Or maybe you find freedom through a philosophy or spiritual practice that affirms your true self. A lot of trans folks resonate with certain spiritual perspectives (like seeing themselves as having a two-spirit or twin soul, etc. – that’s all 9th house realm of worldview). This house is also long-distance travel – I know folks who literally moved countries to transition more safely, or traveled for surgeries to places they could get what they needed. If you have Uranus in the 9th, perhaps you will journey to far-off places or embrace unconventional philosophies as part of your self-discovery. 9th is higher education too – some people come into their identity while at college, or perhaps study gender studies, etc. A strong Jupiter here could indicate learning and expansive experiences that open your mind about who you are. If Saturn’s here, you might have had rigid beliefs imposed on you initially, but over time you become an authority on your own truth. Overall, the 9th house is the quest for meaning. Gender identity, for many, has a deep meaning-making component – you’re not just transitioning bodies, you’re often reframing your whole understanding of life, your purpose, your connection to the world. So yeah, the 9th can be the spiritual and intellectual journey surrounding gender.
Tenth House (Career & Public Life): The 10th is your public persona, career, reputation – basically the “worldly achievement” house. Coming out or living openly as trans can be a huge 10th house event because it affects how the world sees you. If you have major planets here, your gender transition might oddly become part of your public story. Think of famous trans people – they often have strong 10th house or Midheaven activity when they come out because suddenly it’s News (for better or worse). For example, Chaz Bono has Pluto right on his Midheaven (the top of the chart) which screams a public transformation and being known for something Plutonian like gender/sex issues. And indeed, Chaz became a public advocate and “face” of transition in media. If you have, say, Mars in the 10th, you might actively fight for career recognition and not let being trans hold you back in your field – possibly even become known as a trailblazer (Mars likes to lead). If Neptune’s up there, maybe you work in a creative or healing field and people see you as an inspiration (or there’s some confusion to navigate in your public image initially). The sign on your Midheaven can indicate the style of your career or calling. A trans person with Aquarius on the 10th might end up in tech or activism (Aquarius = progressive, techy, humanitarian vibes) and likely be very out and proud at work. With Cancer on the 10th, maybe part of your calling is nurturing others or working with families, and you might be seen as a motherly/fatherly figure in your community regardless of gender. The main point: the 10th is where your personal story meets the public sphere. Trans folks often face career impacts (positive or negative) when they transition – could be discrimination or could be becoming a role model for others. Planets here will describe how that plays out and what legacy you’re building by being authentically you in the world.
Eleventh House (Community & Hopes): The 11th is about social networks, friend groups, and your hopes for the future. This is a very important house for queer/trans folks because it’s basically the house of community and belonging. The 11th shows what kind of friend circle or community you gravitate towards. Many trans people find literal life-saving support in LGBTQ+ communities (hello, chosen family!). If you have benefics (Venus, Jupiter) in the 11th, you might be blessed with amazing friends and allies who lift you up. Jupiter here could mean you eventually become a kind of community leader or have a wide network that supports you (think activism or just popular in your scene). If you have more challenging planets, like Saturn or Pluto, in the 11th, you might have experienced periods of feeling like an outcast or having to really seek out your tribe. (Perhaps early on you felt isolated, but over time you build a strong circle.) This house also rules organizations and social causes – a lot of trans folks become advocates, starting support groups or nonprofits, indicated by strong 11th house energy. The sign on your 11th can describe the flavor of your friend group: e.g. Libra on 11th might mean your friends are like diplomats and artists, very collaborative; Aries on 11th could mean you roll with a bold, activist crew. And “hopes and dreams” fall here too – the 11th is your vision for the future. A vibrant 11th house can show that despite difficulties, you maintain hope and idealism for a better world (and possibly work to create it). It’s the house of solidarity, telling you that you’re not alone. 🌈
Twelfth House (Inner World & Healing): Last but definitely not least, the 12th is the house of the subconscious, solitude, spirituality, and sometimes suffering. This is where we face our inner demons – and also find divine connection. For gender issues, the 12th can be where we hide things, sometimes even from ourselves. A lot of trans folks have stories of secretly knowing or crossdressing in private, etc., before coming out – that’s very 12th house (things done in secret or isolation). If you have planets here, you might have had a rich inner fantasy life about your true gender before you felt safe to share it. The 12th is also about mental health; unsurprisingly, many gender-diverse people battle things like depression, dysphoria, anxiety, often in isolation, before finding support. Challenging placements here (like Saturn or Pluto) can indicate heavy karmic baggage – perhaps feeling imprisoned by circumstances or by your own fears. But the 12th is also where miracles happen – surrendering to your truth and to something bigger. Neptune rules the 12th, so compassion and spiritual growth can come from it. Many trans individuals describe their journey in almost spiritual terms – discovering their true self felt like a awakening. With strong 12th house energy, you might find that your private journey (maybe through therapy, meditation, art, etc.) is what ultimately gives you the strength to emerge authentically (into the 1st house, the next cycle). The 12th might also reflect times of retreat – maybe you spent a year in stealth mode planning your transition, or you took time off work to heal, or even dealt with hospitalization (if things got rough). It’s not an easy house, but it’s the womb of the soul. It’s where you can connect with unconditional love for yourself, perhaps through spirituality or creative solitude. It reminds you that even when you felt most alone, you truly never were – spirit, ancestors, the universe had your back behind the scenes.

Whew! That was a lot... but you can see that every house has something to say about a gender transition or just living as a gender-expansive person. Not everyone will experience all of these; your chart will highlight certain houses over others. But it’s a holistic thing – your whole life is involved in becoming who you are, and the houses just break life into chapters or arenas to look at. I find this approach super helpful because it moves us away from “this placement means you’re trans” and into “here’s how your gender journey might unfold in various parts of your life.” It’s personal, it’s nuanced, and it acknowledges that being trans or nonbinary isn’t just a one-note story – it touches everything.

Timing Is Everythang: Transits & Life Phases of Transition

Astrology really shines when it comes to timing. The natal chart shows potential and themes, but transits, progressions, and other timing tools show when those themes come alive. For many trans and gender-expansive folks, there are certain life periods that end up being turning points – coming out to yourself, coming out to others, starting HRT, changing your name, surgery, etc. Let’s talk about some common astrological timing correlations for these events. (Again, it varies person to person, but patterns are definitely there.)

One biggie I already mentioned: Uranus transits. Uranus takes about 84 years to orbit, so in midlife (early 40s) everyone gets a Uranus-opposition-Uranus transit (midlife crisis, hello). But you also get Uranus square Uranus in your early 20s, and three quarters returns etc. Uranus transiting any of your important personal points can trigger the “I’ve gotta break free” moment. For example, a lot of people come out as queer or trans around age 21–22 when Uranus makes its first square to itself – a quarter-life shake-up. Then late 30s to 42 is Uranus opposition, another huge wave (Chaz Bono’s transition around 40 fits that). If someone stays in the closet or represses stuff through their 20s and 30s, that Uranus midlife transit often blows it up like, nope, your truth is coming out now! It can be messy or it can be liberating as hell (often both). As one astrologer said, during Uranus cycles we feel compelled to radically depart from any part of life where we aren’t being true to ourselves. So Uranus is like the trans community’s patron planet of living authentically, lol. (Interestingly, Uranus is associated with the sign Aquarius – which historically has ties to LGBTQ symbolism – the whole Age of Aquarius and all that. Just a fun aside.)

Next, Saturn cycles. Saturn has a 29.5-year cycle, so the Saturn return around 28-30 years old is a classic time for major life decisions and self-reflection. For many, this is when the weight of living falsely just becomes too heavy. I’ve seen folks come out or transition around 29, even if they spent their 20s saying “nah, I’ll just try to be what others expect.” Saturn return says, time’s up, who are you really? It can also coincide with concrete steps: maybe you finally move out of a restrictive environment, or you have the resources to transition, or you just emotionally mature to the point of not giving as many fucks about others’ approval. Saturn return was huge for me personally in solidifying my identity (I had to confront my fears and make serious commitments to myself). Also, Saturn has hard aspects at around ages 7 (square), 14 (opposition), 21 (square) – these often line up with developmental milestones (think puberty around 14 and early adulthood at 21 – not coincidentally, times many folks are grappling with identity). The second Saturn return (~age 58) can be another time of coming out, especially for those who repressed it much of their life. There are indeed people who transition in their 60s (hey, better late than never, live your truth!). Saturn might give the gravitas or “now or never” vibe then. As an example, Caitlyn Jenner came out at 65 – just after her second Saturn return and during transiting Pluto square her natal Saturn (talk about pressure to transform!). So Saturn can represent those karmic checkpoints.

Neptune transits often coincide with periods of self-discovery and sometimes confusion/questioning. Neptune moves slower (165-year orbit), so its transits last a couple years over a point. People going through Neptune conjunct their Sun, Moon, or Ascendant might feel their old identity dissolving. This can be a beautiful opening to something new, but it can also be scary losing the old boundaries. I’ve heard trans folks describe a Neptune transit as “finally flowing into my true self” and others as “being so lost and unsure for a while.” Both can be true. Neptune can also bring the element of compassion and self-acceptance – like a spiritual awakening of “I am a soul, not just a gender; I’m allowed to just be.” When Neptune was squaring Caitlyn Jenner’s Sun, it symbolized the fluidity and ambiguity in her public transition – Neptune made things surreal and also broadcast it on TV (Neptune rules film/TV glamour too!). So Neptune can be an unseen hand guiding you to surrender to who you are, even as it blurs the edges of reality for a bit.

Pluto transits are deep af. If you have Pluto hitting your Sun/Moon/Asc/Venus/Mars, etc., that’s typically a multi-year intense transformation. It can absolutely align with major transition milestones. It often feels like a purge or metamorphosis: something in you has to die so something new can be born. This might be the period you fully let go of your old gender role (a kind of symbolic death) – which can come with grief, even as you’re happy to move forward. Pluto might bring you into contact with your deepest power as well – reclaiming your autonomy over your body and identity. Some astrologers note that Pluto transiting the 1st house or aspecting the Ascendant can trigger big physical changes (for anyone, not just trans folks) – like weight loss/gain, surgery, a whole new appearance. For a trans person, that could literally be starting HRT or getting surgeries or just radically transforming style and presentation. It’s like the caterpillar to butterfly transit, but imagine the caterpillar’s psyche during that – it’s intense! After Pluto’s done, you’re usually way more empowered and living more authentically, because you faced some serious shadows along the way.

We shouldn’t ignore Jupiter either – Jupiter transits often bring growth, opportunity, and even a dose of luck or protection. When Jupiter is involved, some people find an easier path or a mentor or community support. For instance, Jupiter crossing your Ascendant could be when you “go big” and announce yourself, and instead of backlash, you might get surprisingly positive vibes (or at least you feel confident enough not to care). Jupiter return (every 12 years or so) can sometimes coincide with a burst of confidence in self – age 24, 36, etc., could be moments of “I’m expanding into who I am.” It’s not as noted as Saturn/Uranus, but I’ve observed Jupiter transits making the process more expansive and hopeful. Like the universe giving a thumbs up, “yes, you got this!” Also, Jupiter rules law and publishing, so on a societal level, Jupiter transits might correspond with legal changes (like name/gender marker changes, etc., coming through or being easier during certain Jupiter cycles). It’s something to watch.

Besides transits, astrologers use progressions, solar arcs, etc. One interesting progression to look at is the Progressed Moon. It has a 28-year cycle through the signs/houses, and when your Progressed Moon moves into a new sign, people often feel a shift in emotional focus. I’ve seen folks come out when their Prog Moon went into a more self-oriented sign (like Aries or Leo, giving courage) or a more authentic sign for them. Also, the progressed Sun changing sign or progressing into a new house can be symbolic of stepping into a new identity phase. For example, if your progressed Sun enters your 1st house – it’s your time to shine as you. Or enters Aquarius – time to live your uniqueness. Solar arc directions of planets to angles can time big revelations too (like Solar Arc Uranus = Ascendant could be “coming out” kind of year, etc.). These techniques get technical, but the takeaway is: when it’s time, it’s time – and the cosmos usually shows multiple indicators lining up.

To ground this in a case study, let’s circle back to Chaz Bono as an example of timing: Chaz knew he was different from a young age (as Chastity, he came out as a lesbian in teens). But his gender dysphoria persisted. It wasn’t until around 2008-2010 that he began transitioning. What was happening? His Uranus opposition (major liberation transit) was exact around 2010-2011, as noted. He also had progressed planets hitting critical points (as Lynn Hayes observed, his progressed Jupiter-Uranus conjunction lined up with events where he publicly came out earlier as gay). And interestingly, by 2011 he was 42 – approaching the Neptune square Neptune transit (around 40-42) which often dissolves old realities. Plus, his natal chart had that Pluto on the Midheaven we discussed, indicating a life of public transformation and advocacy.

The timing of his transition lined up with that Uranian push and perhaps the last waves of his Saturn return aftermath (he was ~39 at Saturn return, likely making him contemplate life priorities). When he stepped into the spotlight on Dancing with the Stars in 2011 as Chaz, that was a culmination of those transits – his authentic self fully visible, controversy be damned. Saturn was transiting Libra (his South Node sign) then, forcing him to let go of that old identity tied to people-pleasing (Libra SN) and move toward Aries North Node boldness. It’s poetic really.

Another quick timing mention: collective transits can affect individual experiences too. For example, we’re currently (as of mid-2020s) in a period where Saturn (structure) and Uranus (change) were in a tough square aspect for a couple years. This reflected the cultural clash over trans rights (old restrictive laws vs. progressive change). Michael J. Morris gave a talk relating Saturn-Uranus cycles to transgender liberation movements historically. It’s fascinating – e.g., Uranus in aspect to Saturn often coincided with breakthroughs and backlashes in trans communities. On a personal level, if your chart is tied into those planets, you might have felt that tension intimately – like part of you needing stability vs part needing freedom now. The outer climate can set the stage for our personal journeys. When the culture is more accepting (like after some positive legal change), it might coincide with more trans folks coming out because they feel safer. Astrology mirrors that too.

Ultimately, timing techniques in astrology show that our gender journey has chapters. There’s a season for revelation, a season for action, a season for introspection. If you’re in an early questioning phase, a certain transit may be reflecting that (like “it’s ok to not have all answers during Neptune, just feel it out”). If you’re in a push to come out, maybe Uranus is nudging you. If you’re grinding through the practical steps, Saturn might be at work making you do it right. The stars don’t force us, but they sure do light up the themes we’re ready to live. It can be incredibly validating to see that your timing wasn’t random – it was cosmically opportune. Like, you transitioned exactly when was right for you, aligned with a higher clock. ⏳✨

Real-Life Charts, Real-Life Stories

I’ve woven in some examples already (can you tell I’m a bit obsessed with Chaz Bono’s chart? It’s just such a good teaching example!). But let’s highlight a couple more case studies and insights briefly:

Chaz Bono (Sun in Pisces, Aquarius Moon, Virgo Rising): Chaz’s chart is a study in fluidity meets activism. His Pisces Sun (the “shapeshifter” sign) hints at a yearning to transcend boundaries. Pisces energy often feels not fully of this world, and indeed Chaz said he felt like an outsider in his body from early on. He’s also a Virgo Rising (according to an Astrotheme-sourced time), which puts Pluto right on his Midheaven in Leo. That’s a public life marked by dramatic transformation – check. He has Jupiter conjunct Uranus in Libra near his South Node, indicating past (and early life) themes of seeking liberation in relationships and perhaps gender (Libra deals with social identity). That conjunction often shows up in charts of social activists, and indeed he became an outspoken advocate. When that combo was triggered by progression in the late ‘80s, he came out as lesbian – living one piece of his truth. But the full gender truth came later with the Uranus opposition and progressed Sun changing, etc. Another cool bit: he has Chiron (the wounded healer) on his Aries North Node – his future path (North Node) was to become individually (Aries) who he is, and heal himself and teach others in the process (Chiron). We saw that play out as he educated the public about trans issues and did a lot of healing work on himself. So Chaz’s chart very much aligns with his journey – but you wouldn’t necessarily look at it and know he was trans from birth. It’s only in context that it makes sense, which is true of most cases.
Laverne Cox (May 29, 1984): I don’t have her birth time, so I can’t do the houses, but one thing stands out – she’s a Gemini Sun, likely Moon in Sagittarius (since Moon was in Sag most of that day). A Gemini-Sag axis is all about storytelling and truth. No surprise, Laverne became a storyteller (an actress) and speaks her truth loudly. I wouldn’t be shocked if she has something like Sagittarius rising (just speculation) because she’s such a beacon of optimism and freedom. When Laverne broke out on Orange Is the New Black around 2013-2014, transiting Neptune was squaring her Sun (similar to Caitlyn’s Neptune story) and Uranus was trining it – suggesting her identity became a public phenomenon (Neptune) and she suddenly rose to fame as a trailblazer (Uranian boost). Chani Nicholas, who read Laverne’s chart publicly, likely highlighted her powerhouse communication skills (Gemini) and how her chart supports her being a voice for the trans community. Often trans folks who end up in the spotlight have strong Mercury (the messenger) or Jupiter (the preacher) energy – and Laverne’s Sun is ruled by Mercury (Gemini) and that Sag Moon is ruled by Jupiter, so yep, messenger vibes all around.
Janet Mock (March 10, 1983): Also don’t have a time, but Janet is a Pisces Sun (same as Chaz – interestingly a lot of well-known trans folks have Pisces Sun: coincidence or is Pisces just that magical? 😇). Pisces Sun with likely Leo Moon (her Moon is probably in Leo given her birth date). Pisces-Leo is like the compassionate leader archetype. Janet indeed emerged as a leader (Leo) with a deeply empathetic voice (Pisces). She’s spoken about the spiritual aspects of her journey too. In 2014, when her memoir Redefining Realness came out, transiting Saturn was in Scorpio trining her Pisces Sun, indicating she was solidifying her legacy and authority by sharing her story (Saturn = author time). At the same time, Jupiter was in Cancer giving a grand water trine – she was emotionally resonating with so many (water signs) and finding fortune in doing so. It’s like the cosmos said, yes, tell your story to heal others and yourself. Chani Nicholas also read her chart (on that same Netflix special) focusing on empowerment. I suspect Janet has some strong 3rd or 9th house action – she’s an author and an advocate, teaching the world about authenticity.
Other examples: There are countless, but one could look at historical trans pioneers like Christine Jorgensen (the 1950s trans woman who made headlines). She had Sun in Gemini and Moon in Taurus – interestingly, at the time of her transition (early 1950s), Uranus was in Cancer conjunct her North Node and Neptune was squaring her Sun. Again, outer planets stirring the pot for a big life change that challenged norms. Or Reed Erickson (a trans man who funded a lot of early trans research in the ’60s) – he had Sun in Libra, Moon in Scorpio, and he transitioned during his Saturn return + Uranus conjunct his Sun. It’s a pattern we see: those pivotal late 20s or early 40s moments show up.

Even in the collective timeline, astrology aligns with trans history. The mid to late 1960s saw Uranus and Pluto conjunct in Virgo (hello revolution). What happened? The Stonewall Riots in 1969, led by trans women of color like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, blew up the fight for LGBTQ rights. That was literally Uranus (rebellion) + Pluto (power to the marginalized) sparking revolution. Michael J. Morris’s research notes Saturn and Uranus transits around events like the Compton’s Cafeteria Riot of 1966 (one of the first trans protests) and Stonewall. Those same cycles echo now as we battle new waves of anti-trans legislation – Saturn (restriction) in hard aspect to Uranus (liberation) in the sky in 2021-2022 reflected that clash. But take heart: after the tension, new breakthroughs often follow, as the cycle continues.

All these examples underline something key: your chart doesn’t doom you to a certain experience, but it does provide a symbolic map of the energies and themes you’ll dance with. Trans and nonbinary people aren’t born under any one star, and we don’t all transition under one transit. But our journeys are not random either. They are interwoven with the cosmos in a meaningful way. Each person’s timing and chart story is a unique variant of a broader cosmic pattern of becoming yourself.

Conclusion (FINALLY, I KNOW): The Stars as a Support, Not a Script

If you’ve made it this far – congrats HUNNY, you basically sat through an astrology podcast episode in text form. 😅 Give yourself a hug (or high-five). We covered a lot, from ancient prejudices to modern inclusive practices, from planets and houses to real lives and transits. What I hope you take away is a sense of affirmation and wonder. Affirmation that yes, your experience is valid and even reflected in the poetry of the planets, and wonder at how freaking cool it is that the universe encodes these cycles of growth and self-discovery.

For trans, nonbinary, and gender-expansive folks: your chart is not here to misgender you or to tell you you’re “really” something else. If anyone ever uses astrology to invalidate your gender, throw their opinions in the cosmic trash where they belong. Instead, use astrology as a tool for empowerment. It can help you understand, “Ah, that period when I felt so lost – Neptune was on my Moon, it makes sense now, I was dissolving old emotional patterns.” Or, “No wonder 2018 was insane – Pluto hit my Ascendant and I literally rebirthed myself.” It puts your journey in a larger context and can even help you anticipate upcoming energies (“Hey, Saturn is going through my first house next year, maybe I’ll be focusing on body stuff and building a solid foundation for my new life”). It’s like having a compass and a clock while you navigate your path of becoming.

For astrologers or allies working with trans folks: listen and learn. The person living the chart is the ultimate expert on their gender, not the astrologer. Our job is to provide insights that resonate and empower, not impose interpretations. Use the awesome depth of astrology to meet the client where they are. For example, instead of blurting out something like “oh you have Mars in Aries, you must be super masculine,” ask how they relate to their assertiveness or desire. Maybe that Mars in Aries is helping a trans woman fight for her rights – that’s her feminine Mars in action, perhaps. Be mindful of pronouns and past vs. present identity in chart analysis (e.g., if talking about childhood indicated by 4th house, you might say “when you were growing up” rather than “when you were a girl/boy,” unless the client themselves uses that language). Basically, apply the golden rule of any counseling: respect and empathy. The chart is a starting point for conversation, not a verdict.

I personally find that when reading for trans and nonbinary clients, we often get into really rich discussions about self and soul. The astrology opens the door, but it’s the client’s story that fills the room. There might be tears of relief (finally someone sees a reflection of what they went through) or tears of joy (seeing potential for thriving in the future). It’s humbling and beautiful. Many have told me it helped them to hear their struggle was “written in the stars” in a way – not as fate, but as something real that the universe acknowledges. Like, you were never broken or alone; your journey was always a meaningful part of the cosmic dance.

At the end of the day, astrology is a language. We’re just updating that language to be more inclusive and true to our lived experiences. In ancient times, an astrologer might’ve said “Ah, these signs indicate a eunuch” (ugh). Today we can say, “I see indicators that you might relate to gender in a unique way – how has that been for you?” Same chart data, totally different approach. And guess which one actually helps people? 😏 (If you guessed the second, you win!).

So whether you’re trans and looking for yourself in the sky, or an astro-nerd wanting to support trans folks, remember: the stars don’t define your gender, you do. What the stars can do is provide a cosmic soundtrack as you dance your dance. Sometimes it’s a pump-you-up beat when you need courage, other times a slow ballad when you need to heal, sometimes a wild improvisational jazz when you’re reinventing yourself. You’re the choreographer, the stars are the orchestra.

Keep looking up, but keep listening inward. The truth of who you are is written across the sky and within your heart. And that truth is fucking beautiful, resilient, and sacred. 💖✨ As above, so below – as the cosmos, so your soul. Enjoy the journey, star child.

LOVE YOU SO MUCH. XOXO,

ZIGGY!<3