The Queen of Swords is here to liberate you
The Queens of Swords from the Rider Waite Smith and Thoth decks
The Queen of Swords sits alert, in profile, her head and shoulders soaring over the dense clouds. She* raises a hand to gesture beyond her upright sword and the rope becomes visible, still dangling from her wrist. Her crown, throne, and robe are adorned with butterflies and clouds – appropriate emblems for the priestess of air. She’s here to show us how we might command this element in service of our own liberation.
I often consider the four Queens in the Tarot as skillful in the inner cultivation of their element - guides to help us illuminate, nurture, and transform our neglected parts of self. In this regard, the Queen of Swords is often misunderstood - described as harsh, cold, and rigid. These are labels historically applied to women who have the audacity to say no to what others want of them - “spinsters, witches, hags.” This Queen is clear about who she is, knows her responsibilities, and understands the consequences of her actions. Her hard-won clarity has freed her from the confines of others expectations. When she appears for us, this is our invitation: conscious and considerate reflection of our internal dialogue, well-worn narratives, and the way we use (or stifle) our voice. Her clear wisdom can help us recognize what can be cut, shed, and dropped, so that we too may soar.
At the Dawn of a New Era | 1898, Josef Jakub Toužimský
The Queen’s clarity can be blunt, forceful, and shocking, like the initial burst of light when you’ve grown used to the dark. It takes time to adjust to the truth of what’s here, accepting that the monsters who inhabited the corners are your own creation. This is not to say that harsh light always reveals splendor, quite the opposite. You may become conscious of grimy behaviors previously hidden to you when the Queen of Swords emerges. She has a way of showing us to ourselves, in stark detail. This process can point to where you’re raw and tender, places unused to the light. It is time, she says, to see. Through seeing we can first accept, and then adjust, if necessary.
The work of knowing oneself is a deeply uncomfortable process. Our minds tend to obscure and distort that which is painful for us to confront, and glimpsing these truths can send us retreating back into the safety of our self-deceptions. When the Queen comes up, we may see an aspect of self clearly for the first time - our reactions, motivations, or the subtle and habitual ways we abandon our needs. This is difficult work, to hold ourselves with unbridled clarity, and to maintain a sense of self compassion. This is the clearing the Queen of Swords is here to guide us through, to point to our shadows, and also our strengths. Her bird’s eye view is able to witness ourselves in all our contradictions and complexities - this too, belongs.
Envy | 1770-80, William Hamilton
I think of the Queen of Swords as the Crone of the Tarot. Her wisdom comes through experience, her ability to discern the truth is hard-won. She knows the truth of this world in all its beauty, decay, and the cruelty and horror we inflict on one another. However bad you think it is, she’s seen worse, and she knows that the good/bad binary is bullshit. In our society obsessed with youth and appearance, Crones are undervalued and made invisible. This can make aging terrifying, if you’ve been socialized female and taught that your worth is intertwined with your looks. Crones don’t play by these oppressive rules, however, and that’s what makes them so powerful. They laugh at the idea that anyone can dictate their inherent value or diminish their light. It’s this freedom from our deepest, stealthiest conditioning that the Queen offers. She sees the truth of how oppressive systems play out around us, and how they become internalized within us. When she appears, the invitation is to discern what is truly our thinking, amidst the waters we swim in. The Queen of Swords makes me think of how abolition feminists point to the ways carcerality comprises not only our criminal legal system, but also many of our common reactions towards our self, families, and relationships. We often believe change can only take place at the broadest level, but change begins inside us, with the stark examination the Queen brings. Her path is one that can feel rocky and treacherous, full of unknowns, with no promises about where it leads. But it is our path to walk, if we are to do the work that is ours in this world. Let’s go, she gestures, it’s time.
The Queen is here to show us the truth of our self and the world, and in turn, guide us to live accordingly. Fully assessing us all in our messy, untended glory is the wisdom of this Queen. It might be under her gaze that we see we’ve been striving for someone else’s dream for us, or embodying behaviors of a parent we said we’d never become. From this hardscrabble place of radical acceptance – not an easy place to visit or live – here is where we can witness, receive, and let things go. It’s here we can release the binds of perfectionism, trusting that mistakes can’t and won’t define us, because only we can. The Queen’s Sword is double-edged, and brings with it grief and loss, perhaps of what we thought we knew, or who we thought we were. Her key is the care with which we tend to ourselves, careful not to add self loathing to our hurt, careful to remember that pain is part of life, not the whole of it. She offers us a view over the old stories that trapped us in their fog, an expansive horizon able to contain both mistakes and gifts, loss and opportunity.
Woman kissing reflection in a mirror | 1854, Felix Jacques Moulin
Our Crone, with her crown of butterflies, presents us with an opportunity to transform in ways that deeply serve us. What old stories have been informing my interactions, relationships, internal dialogue? How does my behavior align with my deepest values and overarching intentions? Am I allowing the opinions of others to direct my life? Where do I need to get free? This may have to do with boundary setting, discerning what is ours to hold, and allowing others to take responsibility for themselves. Speaking these truths out loud can feel like an enormous task, but when the Queen shows up, she recommends we practice. She is here to let us know we are ready to face the truth, however difficult or seemingly unwelcome, we are ready. “Be still, direct your awareness inward,” she whispers, “no need to rush - the winds of change are already here.” And with our air priestess’ wisdom, we have the ability to take care of ourselves through whatever transformation this truth may ultimately bring.
The Desert Wind | 1930, Louis Fleckenstein
I hope you are all finding ways to care for yourself during this Aries season, with these eclipses and Mercury in retrograde up above and every manner of heartbreak playing out before our eyes here below. Storyteller Michael Meade often says it is during the darkest times that we must turn inward, towards our soul’s calling, and do the difficult work that must be done to bring our gifts to this aching world. May the Queen be your guide here.
* Disclaimer: I write using she/her pronouns and the traditional hierarchical framing of the Court cards in the Tarot. I, like many readers and thinkers on this subject, find this framing limited and problematic, and also acknowledge it can be useful while learning, which is why I chose to use it in these posts. As you build your relationship to the cards, I encourage you to expand and dissolve the binaries, identities and dated systems you find within them, including the framing of the Court cards. You can find many decks based of the RWS that update the Courts, transforming them in really useful and exciting ways. Please use what works for you and leave the rest.
