Excitement

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The History of Christianity II: From the Reformation to the Modern Megachurch (2017)

  CRISIS AND PERSECUTION õ One pattern from throughout history is that when leaders feel insecure, they often look for a religious minority to blame. From the late 18th century onward, the Ottomans found themselves on the defensive against European Christian armies. õ First, Russian soldiers marched into Crimea and the Caucasus. Then in 1798, Napoleon’s armies demolished Muslim forces in Egypt. As the 19th century rolled on, the British joined the French and other European powers in nibbling away the edges of Ottoman territory and even threatening Istanbul itself. 108 The History of Christianity II õ Christians living in the empire watched these developments with increasing excitement. They became more assertive, sometimes rebelling against Turkish control in the hopes that they could take advantage of the empire’s weakened state to seize their independence. õ When the Greeks revolted in 1821, the Turks struck back with a vengeance. They massacred Greek-speaking laypeople and clergy across the empire. They even hanged the patriarch of Constantinople himself outside his own cathedral, on Easter morning. õ These were the desperate, violent reactions of a crumbling empire. The Ottomans were hemorrhaging territory—and then they sided with Germany in World War I. That spelled the end. õ It’s in these last years that the Ottomans committed their most horrendous atrocities. Beginning in 1915, they began rounding up and massacring Armenian Christians and other Christian ethnic groups. At least 500,000 Armenians died. õ Many scholars call their deaths one of the first cases of systematic genocide in the modern era. The Turkish government denies the scholarly consensus on this, insisting that historians have inflated the numbers and that both sides did a lot of killing. õ By the end of the period this lecture covered, the dividing line was no longer theology—it was political power. Namely, Christians in the West had it, and Christians living under Muslim rule went for centuries without it. Their experience was a lot more like that of the very first Christians in ancient Rome, who sometimes got lucky under the rule of a tolerant or indifferent emperor and sometimes had to die for their faith. Lecture 11—Christians under Muslim Rule 109

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  challenge and a fresh approach. You might very well fail. You need the same level of focus as you had on the last project. Never rest on your laurels or let up in your intensity. Seek out calibrated challenges. The problem with fantastical grandiosity is that you imagine some great new goal you will achieve —that brilliant novel you will write, that lucrative start-up you will create. The challenge is so great that you may start, but you will soon peter out as you realize you are not up to it. Or if you are the ambitious, assertive type, you might try to go all the way, but you will end up in the Euro Disney syndrome, overwhelmed, failing in a large fashion, blaming others for the fiasco, and never learning from the experience. Your goal with practical grandiosity is to continually look for challenges just above your skill level. If the projects you attempt are below or at your skill level, you will become easily bored and less focused. If they are too ambitious, you will feel crushed by your failure. However, if they are calibrated to be more challenging than the last project, but to a moderate degree, you will find yourself excited and energized. You must be up to this challenge so your focus levels will rise as well. This is the optimum path toward learning. If you fail, you will not feel overwhelmed and you will learn even more. If you succeed, your confidence increases, but it is tied to your work and to having met the challenge. Your sense of accomplishment will satisfy your need for greatness. Let loose your grandiose energy. Once you have tamed this energy, made it serve your ambitions and goals, you should feel safe to let it loose upon occasion. Think of it as a wild animal that needs to roam free now and then or it will go mad from restlessness. What this means is that you occasionally allow yourself to entertain ideas or projects that represent greater challenges than you have considered in the past. You feel increasingly confident and you want to test yourself. Consider developing a new skill in an unrelated field, or writing that novel you once considered a distraction from the real work. Or simply give freer rein to your imagination when in the planning process. If you are in the public eye and must perform before others, let go of the restraint you have developed and let your grandiose energy fill you with high levels of self-belief. This will animate your gestures and give you greater charisma. If you are a leader and your group is facing difficulties or a crisis, let yourself feel unusually grandiose and confident in the success of your mission, to lift up and inspire the troops. That was the kind of grandiosity that made Winston Churchill such an effective leader during World War II. In any event, you can allow yourself to feel ever so godlike

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I got my hopes up. Then they sunk. “Oh, it probably doesn’t mean a thing,” I concluded. Jan smiled like there was something else. “Well, she did ask if you were single.” My jaw dropped. I couldn’t recover my composure. “For Christsake, be cool,” Jan patted my arm. “Jan, what’s her name?” “Theresa.” I savored her name, repeating it over in my mind. When you do that, it’s a sign something big is happening in your heart. At the end of the day I looked for Theresa at the time clock, but she was hidden in the wave of hundreds of workers leaving and hundreds more entering for the next shift. I didn’t talk much on the bus ride home. I just stared out the window. Jan laughed softly and shook her head. The next day I could hardly wait to get to work. Jan and I were assigned to load trucks. It was heavy work. I was leaning up against a pole smoking a cigarette when Theresa walked by to go to the bathroom. Actually, the bathroom was in the opposite direction. I felt embarrassed because I was dripping with sweat and my white T-shirt was filthy. Theresa smiled. “I like sweaty butches,” she said, as though she’d read my mind. Man, those boxes sailed out of my hands all day as though they were filled with feathers. For the next week I didn’t sleep much. I leaped out of bed as soon as the alarm rang and rode the long distance out to the cannery in excited Stone Butch Blues 29 anticipation. I saw Theresa at least twice a shift. I was floating a foot off the ground. Then, one day, Jan pulled me aside after a break. “Got some bad news for you, kid.” Theresa had been fired. The General Superintendent called her into his office to go over her six-month review. That’s when he grabbed her breasts. Jan said Theresa kicked him in the shin, yelled at him, and then kicked him in the other shin. Good for her. Anyway, he fired her. I crashed from the summit of euphoria. It was just a job after that. Worse, really, because it had been so much fun. I knew it was time to ask the temp agency for another assignment. The following Friday night I showered and dressed up. When I got to Abba’s, I was glad I had. There was Theresa, leaning on the bar. I had never expected to see her again. She had cajoled some friends into driving her to Buffalo to look for me. Lucky for me there was only one gay bat at a time. The hue of Theresa’s hair reminded me of the lustrous colors of a chestnut. It was well worth waiting to see. Her eyes didn’t hide how happy she was to see me. I think she would have liked to hug 130 = Leslie Feinberg

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  The world rushed past my window: streaks of vermilion, magenta, burnt umber. Silver birch and patches of snow. Crispy ocher leaves still glued to branches. Golden waves of graceful weeds reigning overt marshland. Brown ducks bobbing in still ponds. The sky filled with crows and hawks and turkey vultures. Weather-beaten houses tucked away on hills between evergreens. Fallow fields and gleaming silos. Sleepy rural towns turned their shabby backs toward the railroad tracks. Block-long main drags: five and dime, hardware, auto parts, gasoline, home- cooking. Lime, lemon, peach pastel homes. Sagging porches. Pick-up trucks and children’s swings rusting in the backyards. Trailer parks—yesterday’s dreams of mobility stripped of wheels. Abandoned factories, familiar as a lover’s sigh. Ribbons of roads, trestle, and track tied all of our lives together like a gift. I began to feel the pleasure of the weightless state between here and there. But hours later the earth began to recede under the weight of acres and acres of factories and high- rise apartment buildings. We were approaching New York City. The buildings loomed larger till they blocked the sky. I descended deeper into a forest of tenements. Some lived in, some abandoned—the differences were slight: boards or cloth tacked up over windows. Laundry snapping in the air, strung from fire escapes. Every inch of wall space seemed to be spray-painted with names. I could taste the poverty—familiar grit between my teeth. “That’s Harlem,” I heard a man say to his traveling companion. Harlem! I felt breathless with excitement. Stone Butch Blues 247 I STOOD STOCK-STILL OUTSIDE Grand Central Station looking up. I felt like a child again, standing at the bottom of a concrete canyon with sky-high walls. Crowds of people rushed like rapids. Strangers slammed me as they passed. Move it, asshole. I remembered how it felt to grow up in the adults’ world, as though everyone had met together and figured out a plan of action, and I didn’t have a clue. I worked my way to the curb and asked the guy at the newsstand, ““Where’s 42" Street?” “You're standing on it,” he snapped. “How do you find an apartment in this city?” I asked. “You want an apartment? Go find someone who’s got a rent-controlled apartment and kill them.” He wasn’t smiling as he handed me a copy of the Village Voice and took my money. I pressed my back against the facade of a building and watched the crowd flow past me. I realized this city required a strategy and I didn’t have one. I had six hundred dollars. It had to get me an apartment with enough left for food and tokens till my first paycheck.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  through a straw before I cut each wire that laced my gums shut. I pulled each segment out with a sure stroke, the way I pulled off old bandaids—not fast, not slow, just steady. After I was sure I'd gotten the last piece of wire out of my gums, I rinsed my mouth with whiskey and then drank the rest of it so I could sleep without remembering how Marija’s words had stripped me of my humanity. When I awoke I walked up to 34" Street, maneuvering in the throng of shoppers like a warrior. I knew exactly what I was looking for. The best sewing machine you have, 1 wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to the saleswoman. And then I realized my jaw wasn’t wired shut anymore. Silence had become a habit. She led me to the display models. They all looked pretty much the same—except for one. I didn’t sew, but I knew it was the right machine when she pointed to it. It glinted in the light like a motorcycle. The saleswoman talked to me about attachments and the endless things it could do. I smiled, not understanding a word. I could already see Ruth hunched over this magnificent machine, stitching her magic into fabric. As I paid for it in cash I felt excitement, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. A light snow fell as I lugged the machine back through the crowded streets and hailed a cab. As soon as I got home I cleaned my apartment with a vengeance. When the house sparkled I realized that I was filthy. I took a long, hot shower, letting the water soften my jaw so it didn’t click each time I opened my mouth. I dried off and put on a clean white T-shirt and khaki chinos. While I combed my hair, I caught sight of myself in the kitchen mirror. My eyes looked so sad I couldn’t meet my own gaze. My face seemed much older than ’'d remembered it. I ran my fingertips over the muscles that rippled across my shoulders and chest and arms. Suddenly all those long hours at the gym seemed to be proof of my will to live. ’d sent myself a gift—a memory of body, of self. I shopped on Grand Street for handmade Chinese wrapping paper. I pointed to what I needed. I still didn’t speak. The first words I spoke were to Ruth. I knocked on her door on Christmas Eve. “Jess, where were your I was scared silly. Come on in. Tanya and Esperanza are here.” I didn’t move. “Are you OK?” She looked worried. I moved my jaw slightly. “Ruth.” Tears welled up in her eyes when she heard my voice. “Thank you,” I told her. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” We pressed our foreheads together. “T’m sorry,” I said. “I know it was an awful lot to ask.” “Hush,” she whispered. “Ruth, I love you.”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  As social animals we cannot avoid constantly playing the game, whether we are conscious of this or not. Most people do not want to expend the effort that goes into thinking about others and figuring out a strategic entry past their defenses. They are lazy. They want to simply be themselves, speak honestly, or do nothing, and justify this to themselves as stemming from some great moral choice. Since the game is unavoidable, better to be skillful at it than in denial or merely improvising in the moment. In the end, being good at influence is actually more socially beneficial than the moral stance. By having this power, we can influence people who have dangerous or antisocial ideas. Becoming proficient at persuasion requires that we immerse ourselves in the perspective of others, exercising our empathy. We might have to abide by the cultural prejudice and nod our heads in agreement about the need for complete honesty, but inwardly we must realize that this is nonsense and practice what is necessary for our own well-being. Five Strategies for Becoming a Master Persuader The following five strategies—distilled from the examples of the greatest influencers in history—are designed to help you focus more deeply on your targets and create the kinds of emotional effects that will help lower people’s resistance. It would be wise to put all five into practice. 1. Transform yourself into a deep listener. In the normal flow of a conversation, our attention is divided. We hear parts of what other people are saying, in order to follow and keep the conversation going. At the same time, we’re planning what we’ll say next, some exciting story of our own. Or we are even daydreaming about something irrelevant. The reason for this is simple: we are more interested in our own thoughts, feelings, and experiences than in those of the other person. If this were not the case, we would find it relatively easy to listen with full attention. The usual prescription is to talk less and listen more, but this is meaningless advice as long as we prefer our own internal monologue. The only solution is to somehow be motivated to reverse this dynamic. Think of it this way: You know your own thoughts only too well. You are rarely surprised. Your mind tends to circle obsessively around the same subjects. But each person you encounter represents an undiscovered country full of surprises. Imagine for a moment that you could step inside people’s minds and what an amazing journey that could be. People who seem quiet and dull often have the strangest inner lives for you to explore. Even with boors and fools, you can educate yourself as to the origins and nature of their flaws.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I guess you could explain away that handshake by calling it bravado. But it meant more than that to me then, and it still does. It’s not just a way of measuring strength. A handshake like that is a 26 Leslie Feinberg challenge. It seeks out power through incremental encouragement. At the point of maximum strength, once equity is established, then you have really met. I had really met Butch Al. I was so excited. And scared. I needn’t have been: no one was ever kinder to me. She was gruff with me alright. But she peppered it with scruffing my hair, hugging my shoulders, and giving my face something more than a pat and less than a slap. It felt good. I liked the affection in her voice when she called me &id, which she did frequently. She took me under her wing and taught me all the things she thought were most important for a baby butch like me to know before embarking on such a dangerous and painful journey. In her own way, she was very patient about it. In those days the bars in the Tenderloin district were gay by percentage. Tifka’s was about 25 percent gay. That meant we had a quarter of the tables and dance floor. The other three-quarters were always pushing against our space. She taught me how we held our territory. I learned to fear the cops as a mortal enemy and to hate the pimps who controlled the lives of so many of the women we loved. And I learned to laugh. That summer, Friday and Saturday nights were full of laughter and mostly gentle teasing. The drag queens would sit on my lap and we’d pose for Polaroid pictures. We didn’t find out till much later that the guy who took them for us was an undercover cop. I could look at the old bulldaggers and see my own future. And I learned what I wanted from another woman by watching Butch Al and her lover Jacqueline. They let me hang with the two of them all summer long. I had told my parents I was working double shifts on Friday and Saturday nights, “to save up for college,’ and was staying overnight with a friend from school who lived near my job. They chose to believe my alibi. All week long I counted the hours till Friday night when I could punch out of work early and head for Niagara Falls. After the bar closed we’d walk down the street, pretty tipsy, one of us on each of Jacqueline’s arms. She’d throw her head up to the heavens and say, “Thank you, God, for these two good-looking butches.” Al and I would lean forward and wink at each other and we’d all laugh for the sheer joy of being who we were, and being it together.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  LIVING IN NEW YORK CITY wasn’t easy— sometimes my nerves felt like grated cheese—but it was never boring. I liked that. Something was always happening in Manhattan, good or bad. There were things to do almost any hour of the day or night. There was a bookstore on practically every corner in New York City. I read the books furtively until I realized nobody cared if I hung out for hours. I only read the poetry and fiction. I didn’t want to discover I wasn’t smart enough to understand nonfiction. But the Women’s Studies section tempted me. By leafing through the books I could eavesdrop on the discussions going on between women without being seen. It turned out to be true that I couldn’t understand a lot of the theory. But I felt as though I was rushing into a burning building to rescue the ideas I needed in my own life. At first I skimmed past all the words and pages about reproductive rights. I had no relationship to my own uterus. But I remembered how upset Theresa had been after I got busted in Rochester because she couldn’t remember when she had her last period. I never kept track of my menstrual cycle. But Theresa always knew when my period was in relation to hers. It suddenly made sense to me: she was afraid I might have gotten pregnant. The idea had never occurred to me. What would I have done if I'd gotten pregnant after a rape? I stopped skipping over the sections in books about women controlling their own bodies. Maybe all these things that were so important to other women would prove to have meaning for me, too. No matter how much I read at the bookstores, I always ended up spending a lot of my paychecks on books. I also discovered classical music. On my way to work one morning I stood and listened to a man playing the cello in the subway station. The music grabbed me by the collar and wouldn't let me go. I crouched down next to the pillar nearest him as he played. The music articulated emotions for me, the way poetry did. When the rush hour crowd thinned I realized I was late for work. The musician put down his bow and wiped his brow. “What were you playing?” I asked him. He smiled. “Mozart.” I began to haunt music stores as well. I scraped together enough money for a stereo. I also explored reggae and merengue, charanga and guaguancé, jazz and blues. One spring afternoon I found myself scrubbing my apartment. I had turned up Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major” full blast. I realized I was changing on the inside as much as I was on the outside.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  As the money supply ran short and the price of bread kept rising, and with millions of people facing starvation, riots began to break out throughout the countryside and even in Paris. And amid all of this turmoil, the young king was proving to be too indecisive to handle the pressure. In 1787, as the financial situation worsened, the opportunity of a lifetime came to Danton—a position as a lawyer on the King’s Council, with a rather nice bump in salary. Wanting to marry a young woman named Gabrielle, whose father opposed the marriage because Danton did not earn enough, he accepted the position on the council, despite his fears that he was joining a sinking ship. Two days later he married Gabrielle. Danton did his job well but found himself increasingly absorbed by the turmoil in Paris. He joined a club called the Cordeliers. Its members were an odd mix of bohemian artists and political agitators. It was located near his apartment, so he began to spend a great part of his day there, and soon he was participating in the raucous debates about the future of France that took place at the club. He felt a strange new spirit in the air, a boldness that made people suddenly say things they could never have said a few years before about the monarchy. He found it exciting and irresistible. He began to give his own fiery speeches, focusing on the brutality of the upper classes, and he basked in the attention he received. In 1788 he was offered a higher position on the King’s Council, and he turned it down. He told the king’s minister who presented the offer that the monarchy was doomed: “This is no longer about modest reforms,” he said. “We are more than ever on the brink of revolution. . . . Can’t you see the avalanche coming?” In the spring of 1789, Louis was forced to call a national assembly to deal with the looming bankruptcy. The assembly was known as the Estates General. It was an institution meant to deal with a national crisis, but always as a measure of last resort, the previous one having been held in 1614, after the death of King Henry IV. It brought together representatives of the three estates of France—the nobility, the clergy, and the tax-paying commoners. Although the vast majority of French people were to be represented by members of the Third Estate, the power of the assembly was heavily tilted in favor of the nobility and clergy.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  Bolt patted me on the shoulder. “C’mon out here a minute. I want to talk to you.” I started to protest. “C’mon, this meeting will still be going on.” I followed Bolt out to the bar. He ordered two beers and paid for them. He lifted his bottle. ““To the union,” he said. I nodded. “Tl drink to that.” “Listen, Jesse. How well do you know this guy Duffy?” I shrugged. “He’s alright in my book. I trust him.” “Some of the guys heard something about him. Somebody said he’s a communist.” I laughed. “He’s no communist. He’s a good 9 Buy. Bolt smiled and nodded. “Alright. As long as somebody knows the guy.” “Hey, Bolt. Did you ask Duffy about whether or not you'd be eligible to join the union?” Bolt shook his head. “Il ask him later. After the meeting,” We both heard a roar from the other room. “C’mon,” I said, “let’s get back.” I was starting to feel a little excited. “Let’s sign the cards now!” Ernie shouted. Duffy raised both hands. “You got 120 people in your shop. It'll take 30 percent plus one as a bare minimum to file for an election. This is a great turnout, but we need mote.” “Where the hell is everybody?” someone yelled. Duffy shook his head. “This really is a great turnout for a first meeting. But we’ve got to get more workers from every department lined up.” Bolt yelled out, “Maintenance and set-up ate solid.” “What about assembly?” Ernie shouted. “Those girls aren’t going to be with us. They’ve got husbands to take care of them. Shit, I heard two of them still live with their parents.” Dottie stood up. “And I’m one of them. Yeah, I live with my parents. I’m trying to raise two kids without a husband. And Gladys is living with her parents because she’s supporting them and she can’t afford her own place. But we’re both here. You don’t know jack squat about our department.” Gladys stood up beside her. “That’s right. Our fingers and wrists are killing us from trimming flash all day. We’re making lousy money and we have to work weekends. A lot of the girls have husbands who also bring home a paycheck, it’s true. But a lot of them are fed up and they’ll sign—you'll see.” Duffy smiled at them. “The sisters are speaking up, guys. You better listen.” We all agreed to end the meeting and hold another one the following week. But nobody was eager to leave. We milled around talking. Stone Butch Blues 223 “Hey, Duffy,” Bolt called him over. “Am I gonna be able to get into the union? I’m lead set-up man.” I wished I could tip off Duffy about Bolt’s worth, but I could see Duffy already recognized it. “Management knows you're a leader,” he told Bolt. I saw Bolt stand a little taller. “But do you hire and fire? Do you review the guys or discipline them?”

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I thought about the long road Id traveled. I had never stopped looking out at the world through my own eyes. I’d never stopped feeling like me on the inside. What 7fthe real me could emerge, changed by the journey. Who would I be? Suddenly, I needed to know. What would my life be worth if I stopped short of finding out? Fingers of excitement and fear tightened around my throat. Where was I going now? Who was I becoming? I couldn’t answer those questions, but even asking them was a sign to me that tumultuous change had been boiling just below the sutface of my consciousness. I searched the apartment for a cigarette, but as I picked up the pack I watched my hand crush it. That night I dreamt I was struggling in deep murky water. I flailed my arms and legs against its molasses resistance. My lungs ached from holding my breath. I desperately needed to inhale. I began to slowly swim toward the surface. The pressure eased on my body. I felt liquid velvet against my hands as they sliced through the water. I could see the sky, facets of light shimmering above me. My lungs were ready to explode. I broke through the skin of the water. I felt the sun and breeze against my face, warm and cool at the same time. I heard the sound of my own laughter. I think I really believed that when the hormones wore off I would discover Id traveled full circle and returned home to my own past. But the journey wasn't over yet. I realized that the day I saw Theresa shopping in K-Mart. I held my breath the moment I recognized her. Stone Butch Blues 241 She had hardly changed a bit. Would she say the same about me? I hid behind the men’s underwear display and watched her. What would she do if I called out her name? I wanted her to embrace me and take me home. After all, she’d left me because I’d begun hormones; now I’d stopped. Could she love me again? I saw someone put her arm around Theresa. I angled around the aisles to get a better look at the woman. It was the same soft butch who had opened Theresa’s door almost ten years agzo—the same lover. What could Theresa possibly see in that Saturday- night butch? It was so much harder to be me; I needed Theresa’s love a lot more than she did. I hated to admit that she must be special if Theresa loved her. I heard Theresa laugh, warm and relaxed. Her face crinkled with love. And then I knew I wasn’t going home, I wasn’t traveling backward. I was hurtling forward toward a destination I couldn’t see. And if I was ever going to lie in Theresa’s arms again, it would be in some distant future, not now.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  In looking for solutions, you want to consider more possibilities, give greater time to the deliberative process, and allow for freer associations. You need to take seriously the intuitions that come to you after much deliberation, and not discount the value of emotions in thinking. Without a sense of excitement and inspiration, your thinking can become stale and lifeless. If you lean more in the feminine direction, you need to be capable of focusing and digging into specific problems, tamping down the impulse to widen your search and multitask. You have to find pleasure in boring into one aspect of a problem. Reconstructing a causal chain and continually refining it will give depth to your thinking. You tend to see structure and order as dull affairs, giving greater emphasis to expressing an idea and feeling inspired by it. Instead, you need to derive pleasure in paying deep attention to the structure of a book, argument, or project. Being creative and clear with the structure will give your material its power to influence people. Sometimes you need to gain greater emotional distance to understand a problem, and you must force yourself to do so. Masculine and feminine styles of action: When it comes to taking action, the masculine tendency is to move forward, explore the situation, attack, and vanquish. If there are obstacles in the way, it will try to push through them, this desire aptly expressed by the ancient military leader Hannibal—“I will either find a way or make a way.” It derives pleasure from staying on the offensive and taking risks. It prefers to maintain its independence and room to maneuver. When confronted with a problem or the need to take action, the feminine style often prefers to first withdraw from the immediate situation and contemplate more deeply the options. It will often look for ways to avoid the conflict, to smooth out relations, to win without having to go to battle. Sometimes the best action is nonaction—let the dynamic play itself out to understand it better; let the enemy hang itself by its aggressive actions. This was the style of Queen Elizabeth I, whose primary strategy was to wait and see: when confronted with an imminent invasion by Spain’s vast seafaring armada, she decided to not commit to a strategy until she knew exactly when the armada was launched and the weather conditions of the moment, working to slow down its advance and let the bad weather destroy it, with minimal loss of life. Instead of charging forward, the feminine style lays traps for the enemy. Independence is not an essential value in action; in fact, it is better to focus on interdependent relationships and how one move might harm an ally and cause ripple effects to an alliance.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  The barber smoothed back my hair and pursed his lips. “What about a flat top?” “Yeah! That would be a change.” The electric razor buzzed across the top of my DA from back to front. Clumps of hair fell on my nose. The barber brushed them off with the soft hairs of a brush. He clipped and trimmed my hair until it formed a perfectly symmetrical flat top. He brushed me off thoroughly. I started to get up. “Not yet,” he said. He lathered my sideburns and the back of my hairline with shaving cream and scraped a clean line with a straight razor. He toweled the last bits of lather from my neck. Just when I thought he must be finished he splashed a little bay rum on his palms and rubbed it on my cheeks. He shook powder on the brush and swept it across the back of my neck. With a flourish he pulled away the red cloth that covered me and gave me a hand mirror so I could see the back of my hair. “What do you think, my friend?” This time I didn’t try to hide my excitement. I was passing. It was time for the most important test of all: the men’s room. I walked around a department store until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I paced outside the men’s room. What would happen if I walked in? I'd have to find out sooner or later. I pushed open the door. Two men stood in front of urinals. They glanced at me and looked away. Nothing happened. I found an empty stall and locked the door. They could still see my feet if they looked. Did men ever sit down to urinate? I flushed the toiled to covet the sound. I immediately felt something wet and cold against my ass and thighs. The toilet was overflowing. I jumped up but it was too late, my Levi’s were soaked. I rebuttoned my jeans and hurried out of the men’s room. I pushed my way through the crowds of shoppers and made my way back to my Triumph. All I wanted was to drive home, strip off my jeans, and shower off the feeling of stupidity. I sat down on my bike and thought about it. It hadn’t been so bad, really. Now I knew better than to flush the Stone Butch Blues 185 toilet without paying attention to the water level as it rose. But I thought back to the moment I’d walked into the men’s room. They hardly noticed me. I could go to the bathroom whenever and wherever I needed to without pressure or shame. What an enormous relief. | At first, everything was fun. The world stopped feeling like a gauntlet I had to run through. But very quickly I discovered that passing didn’t just mean slipping below the surface, it meant being buried alive.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  He embarked on a major restructuring of the company, which led to the departure of over a thousand employees. He started filling the executive ranks with Paramount people, most notably Jeffrey Katzenberg (b. 1950), who had worked as Eisner’s right-hand man at Paramount and was now named chairman of Walt Disney Studios. Katzenberg could be abrasive and downright rude, but no one in Hollywood was more efficient or worked harder. He simply got things done. Within months Disney began to churn out a remarkable series of hits, adhering to Eisner’s formula. Fifteen of its first seventeen films (such as Down and Out in Beverly Hills and Who Framed Roger Rabbit ) generated profits, a run of success almost unheard of for any studio in Hollywood. One day, as Eisner explored the Burbank lot with Wells, they entered the Disney library and discovered hundreds of cartoons from the golden era that had never been shown. There on endless shelves were stored all of the great Disney classic animated hits. Eisner’s eyes lit up at the sight of this treasure. He could reissue all of these cartoons and animated films on video (the home video market was in the midst of exploding) and it would be pure profit. Based on these cartoons, the company could create stores to market the various Disney characters. Disney was a virtual gold mine waiting to be exploited, and Eisner would make the most of this. Soon the stores opened, the videos sold like crazy, the film hits kept pumping profit into the company, and Disney’s stock price soared. It had replaced Paramount as the hottest film studio in town. Wanting to cultivate a more public presence, Eisner decided to revive the old The Wonderful World of Disney , an hourlong television show from the fifties and sixties hosted by Walt Disney himself. This time Eisner would be the host. He was not a natural in front of the camera, but he felt audiences would grow to like him. He could be comforting to children, like Walt himself. In fact, he began to feel the two of them were somehow magically connected, as if he were more than just the head of the corporation but rather the natural son and successor to Walt Disney himself. Despite all his success, however, the old restlessness returned. He needed a new venture, a bigger challenge, and soon he found it. The Walt Disney Company had plans to create a new theme park in Europe. The last one to open, Tokyo Disneyland in 1983, had been a success. Those in charge of theme parks had settled upon two potential sites for the new Disneyland—one near Barcelona, Spain, the other near Paris. Although the Barcelona site made more economic sense, since the weather there was much better, Eisner chose the French site. This was going to be more than a theme park. This was going to be a cultural statement.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  But as this crisis period fades and begins to merge into the revolutionary period, we often detect rising levels of excitement, as those who are young and particularly hungry for something new can sense the changes coming that they have set up in their own way. It seems that we are living through such a crisis period, with a generation that is experiencing it in its key phase in life. Although we cannot see how close we might be to the end of this period, such times never last too long, because the human spirit will not tolerate them. Some unifying belief system is in gestation, and some new values are being generated that we cannot yet see. At the core of this pattern is a continual back-and-forth rhythm that comes from emerging generations reacting against the imbalances and mistakes of the previous generation. If we go back four generations in our own time we can clearly see this. We start with the silent generation. As children experiencing the Great Depression and as adults coming of age during World War II and the postwar period, they became rather cautious and conservative, valuing stability, material comforts, and fitting tightly into the group. The next generation, the baby boomers, found the conformity of their parents rather stifling. Emerging in the 1960s, and not haunted by the harsh financial realities of their parents, this generation valued personal expression, having adventures, and being idealistic. This was followed by Generation X, which was marked by the chaos of the 1960s and the ensuing social and political scandals. Coming of age in the 1980s and 1990s, it was pragmatic and confrontational, valuing individualism and self-reliance. This generation reacted against the hypocrisies and impracticalities in their parents’ idealism. This was followed by the millennial generation. Traumatized by terrorism and a financial crisis, they reacted against the individualism of the last generation, craving security and teamwork, with a noted dislike of conflict and confrontation. We can deduce two important lessons from this: First, our values will often depend upon where we fall in this pattern and how our generation reacts against the particular imbalances of the previous generation. We would simply not be the same person we are now, with the same attitude and ideals, if we had emerged during the 1920s or the 1950s instead of later periods. We are not aware of this critical influence because it is too close to us to observe. Certainly we bring our own individual spirit into play in this drama, and to the degree that we can cultivate our uniqueness, we will gain power and the ability to direct the zeitgeist. But it is critical that we recognize first the dominant role that our generation plays in our formation, and where this generation falls in the pattern. Second, we notice that generations seem capable only of reacting and moving in an opposing direction to the previous generation. Perhaps this is because a generational perspective is formed in

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  She shocked the locals by swimming in the ocean. Women did not do such things, and swimming costumes for women were almost nonexistent, so she created her own out of the same jersey fabric. Within weeks women were at her store clamoring to buy them. She sauntered through Deauville wearing her own distinctive outfits— androgynous, easy to move in, and ever so slightly provocative as they hugged the body. She became the talk of the town. Women were desperate to find out where she got her wardrobe. She kept improvising with men’s clothing to create new looks. She took one of Capel’s sweaters and cut it open, added some buttons, and created a modern version of the cardigan, for women. This now became the rage. She cut her own hair to a short length, knowing how it suited her face, and suddenly this became the new trend. Sensing momentum, she gave her clothes without charge to beautiful and well-connected women, all sporting hairstyles similar to her own. Attending the most sought-after parties, these women, all looking like Chanel clones, spread the desire for this new style well beyond Deauville, to Paris itself. By 1920 she had become one of the leading fashion designers in the world, and the greatest trendsetter of her time. Her clothes had come to represent a new kind of woman—confident, provocative, and ever so slightly rebellious. Although they were cheap to make and still out of jersey material, she sold some of her dresses at extremely high prices, and wealthy women were more than willing to pay to share in the Chanel mystique. But quickly her old restlessness returned. She wanted something else, something larger, a faster way to reach women of all classes. To realize this dream she decided upon a most unusual strategy—she would create and launch her own perfume. At the time it was unusual for a fashion house to market its own perfume, and unheard of to give it so much emphasis. But Chanel had a plan. This perfume would be as distinctive as her clothes yet more ethereal, literally something in the air that would excite men and women and infect them with the desire to possess it. To accomplish this she would go in the opposite direction from all the other perfumes out there, which were associated with some natural, floral scent. Instead, she wanted to create something that was not identifiable as a particular flower. She wanted it to smell like “a bouquet of abstract flowers,” something pleasant but completely novel. More than any other perfume, it would smell different on each woman. To take this further, she decided to give it a most unusual name. Perfumes of the time had very poetic, romantic titles. Instead, she would name it after herself, attaching a simple number, Chanel No. 5, as if it were a scientific concoction. She packaged the perfume in a sleek modernist bottle and added to the label her new

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  Stone Butch Blues TH1 didn’t want to see again. I thought about the time my parents caught me dressed in my father’s clothes. Warm memories flooded over me: butch friends, drag queen confidants, femme lovers. I couldn’t find them now. I was alone at this crossroads. I couldn’t bring myself to sink the needle into my thigh. Then I pictured my Norton, all smashed to smithereens in the pizzeria parking lot. I stabbed my thigh with the needle and injected the hormone. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I felt a wave of excitement—the possibility that something was going to change, that an enormous weight might be lifted from me. Maybe now I could finally be myself and just live. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the tile wall. After a while I stood up and put my chinos back on. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Still me, looking back at me. Nothing happened for the first two months. My voice hadn’t deepened. I knew that for a fact because every day I called telephone information and the operators still called me ma’am. The only changes I could notice were not what I’d hoped for. My skin broke out. My 178 = Leslie Feinberg body plumpened. My moods swung. Whatever was going to emerge wasn’t here yet, but it was coming. I'd have to say goodbye to Kim and Scotty soon. Gloria would never let me see the kids once I started to change. On a wintry Saturday I arranged to take them to the zoo. It was snowing so hard that the bus ride to Gloria’s house seemed to take forever. “T’m going away,” I told Gloria. “You want more coffee?” she asked. I covered my cup with one hand and shook my head. Gloria sat down next to me. “You tell the kids yet?” I shook my head. “Those kids think the sun rises and sets with you—I don’t get it.” Her words wounded me. “I’m loveable, Gloria, what can I tell your” She shook her head. “Be careful when you tell them, OK? They’re still shook up about their father and me.” I nodded. Scotty and Kim practically knocked each other overt running into the kitchen to greet me. They were both so bundled up I could only see their eyes between their hats and their scarves. Gloria tossed me the keys to her car. She looked upset. “Be careful, driving in the snow.” I didn’t think that’s what she was concerned about. “Don’t worry about us,” I told her. By the time we got to the zoo the snow was deep and fat flakes continued to fall. There weren’t many people out, just a few parents with their kids. “Let’s make snow angels,’ Kim suggested. “Not yet,’ I told her. “Let’s not get wet till we’re ready to leave.”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  In this new form of a group, it is always wise to introduce some rituals that bond the members together and some symbols to identify with. We see many examples of this in the past—the salons of seventeenth-century France, where men and women could talk freely and openly; the lodges of the Freemasons in eighteenth- century Europe, with their secret rituals and air of subversion; the speakeasies and jazz clubs of the 1920s, where the mood was “anything goes”; or more recently, online platforms and groups, or flash mobs. In using this strategy, think of the repressive elements of the past that people are yearning to shake free of. This could be a period of stultifying correctness or prudery, or rampant conformity, or the overvaluing of individualism and all the selfishness that breeds. The group you establish will let flourish a new spirit and even offer the thrill of breaking past taboos on correctness. Subvert the spirit. You might find yourself at odds with some part of the spirit of your generation or the times you live in. Perhaps you identify with some tradition in the past that has been superseded, or your values differ in some way because of your own individual temperament. Whatever the reason, it is never wise to preach or moralize or condemn the spirit of the times. You will only marginalize yourself. If the spirit of the times is like a tide or a stream, better to find a way to gently redirect it, instead of fighting its direction. You will have more power and effect by working within the zeitgeist and subverting it. For instance, you make something—a book, a film, any product— that has the look and feel of the times, even to an exaggerated degree. However, through the content of what you produce, you insert ideas and a spirit that is somewhat different, that points to the value of the past you prefer or depicts another possible way of relating to events or interpreting them, helping to loosen up the tight generational framework through which people view their world. After World War II, the great European fashion designers felt a great deal of disdain for the American market that now dominated the world. They disliked the emerging popular culture and its vulgarity. The fashion designer Coco Chanel had always emphasized elegance in her designs and certainly shared some of this antipathy. But she went in the opposite direction of other designers of the time: she embraced the new power of American women and catered to their desire for clothing that was less fussy and more athletic. Gaining their trust and using their language, Chanel now had great power to subtly alter American tastes, bringing in more of her true sensibility and imparting some elegance to the streamlined designs American women loved. In this way she helped redirect the zeitgeist in fashion, anticipating the changes of the early 1960s.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  IT WAS ALMOST A YEAR before I got up the nerve to call telephone information for the address of Tifka’s. Finally I stood on the street in front of the bar, scared to death. I wondered what made me think this was the place I could fit. And what if I didn’t? I wore my blue-and-red striped shirt, a navy blue jacket to hide my breasts, black pressed chinos, and black Keds high-tops, because I had no dress shoes. When I stepped inside, it was just a bar. Through the haze of smoke I saw faces glance over and look me up and down. There was no turning back, and I didn’t want to. For the first time I might have found my people. I just didn’t know how to penetrate this society. I bellied up to the bar and ordered a Genny. “How old are you?” the bartender asked. “Old enough,” I countered and put my money down. A round of smirks rolled around the bar. I sipped the beer and tried to act cool. An older drag queen studied me carefully. I picked up my beer and walked toward the smoke-filled backroom. What I saw there released tears I’d held back for years: strong, burly women, wearing ties and suit coats. Their hair was slicked back in perfect DAs. They were the handsomest women Id ever seen. Some of them were wrapped in slow motion dances with women in tight dresses and high heels who touched them tenderly. Just watching made me ache with need. This was everything I could have hoped for in life. “You ever been in a bar like this before?” the drag queen asked me. “Lots of times,” I answered quickly. She smiled. Then I wanted to ask her something so badly I forgot to keep up my lie. “Can I really buy a woman a drink or ask her to dance?” “Sure, honey,’ she said, “but only the femmes.” She laughed and told me her name was Mona. I focused on a woman sitting at a table alone. God, she was beautiful. I wanted to dance with her. The Four Tops were singing, Baby, I need your loving. 1 wasn’t sure I knew how to slow dance, but I made a beeline for her before I lost my nerve. “Would you dance with me?” I asked. Mona and the bouncer picked me up and practically carried me into the front bar and set me on a stool. Mona put her hand on my shoulder and looked me dead in the eyes. “Kid, there’s a few things I should tell you. It’s my fault. I told you it was OK to ask a woman to dance. But the first thing you should know is—don’t ask Butch Al’s woman!”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  racked his brain for a way to outdo the French, he finally hit upon a scheme in October of 1719 that was worthy of his motto and that he felt certain would change the course of history. The greatest problem facing the English government, headed by the king, was the massive debts it had incurred over the course of thirty years during the wars that had been fought with France and Spain, all financed through borrowing. Blunt’s proposal was simple and quite astounding: The South Sea Company would pay the government a nice fee in order to completely take over the debt, valued at a whopping £31 million. (The company would receive in exchange an annual interest payment on the debt.) The company would then privatize this £31 million debt and sell it as if it were a commodity, as shares in the South Sea Company—one share equaling £100 of debt. Those who had lent the government money could convert their IOUs into equivalent shares in the South Sea Company. The shares that were left over would be sold to the public. The price for one share would start at £100. As with any stock, the price could rise and fall, but in this case, if played right, the price would only go up. The South Sea Company had an intriguing name and held out the possibility that it would also begin trading in the vast wealth in South America. It was also the patriotic duty of English creditors to participate in the scheme, since they would be helping to cancel the debt while potentially making much more money than the annual interest payments the government paid them. If the share price rose, as it almost certainly would, buyers could cash out for a profit and the company could afford to pay nice dividends. Like magic, debt could be transformed into wealth. This would be the answer to all of the government’s problems, and it would assure Blunt lasting fame. When King George first heard of Blunt’s proposal in November of 1719, he was quite confused. He could not understand how such a negative (debt) could be instantly turned into a positive. Besides, this new jargon of finance went straight over his head. But Blunt spoke with such conviction that he found himself swept up in his enthusiasm. After all, he was promising to solve George’s two greatest problems in one fell swoop, and it was hard to resist such a prospect. King George was massively unpopular, one of the most unpopular English kings of all time. It was not totally his fault: he was not English by birth but German. His title previously had been the Duke of Brunswick and Elector of Hanover. When Queen Anne of England died in 1714, George was her closest living Protestant relative. But the moment he ascended the throne his new subjects found him not to their liking. He spoke English with a horrific accent, and his