Pride

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 Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  studio executive in town. The Lion King had become one of the most profitable films in Hollywood history. It was Katzenberg who was behind Disney’s acquisition of Miramax, considered a great coup with the ensuing success of Pulp Fiction. It seemed like madness on his part, but Eisner did not care. Finally freed of Katzenberg’s shadow, he could relax and now take Disney to the next level, on his own and with no more distractions. To prove he had not lost his touch, he soon dazzled the entertainment world by engineering Disney’s purchase of ABC. The sheer audacity of this coup once again made him the center of attention. Now he was forging an entertainment empire beyond what anyone had ever attempted or imagined. This move, however, created a problem for him. The company had virtually doubled in size. It was too complex, too big for one man. Only a year earlier he had undergone open-heart surgery, and he could not handle the added stress. He needed another Frank Wells, and his thoughts soon turned to his old friend Michael Ovitz, one of the founders and the head of Creative Artists Agency. Ovitz was the greatest deal maker in Hollywood history, perhaps the most powerful man in town. Together they could dominate the field. Many within the business warned him against this hire—Ovitz was not like Frank Wells; he was not a finance guy or a master of detail, as Ovitz himself would have admitted. Eisner ignored such advice. People were being too conventional in their thinking. He decided to lure Ovitz away from CAA with a very lucrative package and offer him the title of president. He assured Ovitz in several discussions that although Ovitz would be second in command, they would eventually run the company as coleaders. In a phone call Ovitz finally agreed to all of the terms, but the moment Eisner hung up, he realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life. What had he been thinking? They might have been the closest of friends, but how would two such larger-than-life men ever be able to work together? Ovitz was power hungry. This would be the Katzenberg problem times two. It was too late, however. He had gotten the board’s approval for the hire. His own reputation, his decision-making process as a CEO, was at stake. He would have to make it work. He quickly decided upon a strategy—he would narrow Ovitz’s responsibilities, keep a tight leash on him, and make him prove himself as president. By doing so Ovitz could earn Eisner’s trust and get more power. From day one Eisner wanted to signal to Ovitz who was boss. Instead of moving him into Frank Wells’s old office on the sixth floor at Disney headquarters, next to Eisner’s, Eisner put him in a rather unimpressive office on the fifth floor. Ovitz liked to spread money around with gifts and lavish parties to charm people; Eisner

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  doesn’t understand is that I have the brains of Duke Galeazzo and I am as brilliant as he!” As she waited for their response, she knew she controlled the situation. Her only fear was that her husband would surrender and betray her, or that the August heat would make her too ill to wait it out. Finally, sensing her resolve, a group of cardinals came to the castle to negotiate, and they acceded to her demands. The following morning, as the drawbridge was lowered to let the countess leave the castle, she noticed an enormous crowd pushing close to her. Romans of all classes had come to catch a glimpse of the woman who had controlled Rome for eleven days. They had taken the countess for a rather frivolous young woman addicted to clothes, the pope’s little pet. Now they stared at her in astonishment—she was wearing one of her silk gowns, with a heavy sword dangling from a man’s belt, her pregnancy more than evident. They had never seen such a sight. Their titles now secure, the count and countess moved to Forlì to rule their domain. With no more funds coming from the papacy, Girolamo’s main concern was how to get more money. And so he increased the taxes on his subjects, stirring up much discontent in the process. He quickly made enemies of the powerful Orsi family in the region. Fearing plots against his life, the count holed himself up in their palace. Slowly Caterina took over much of the day-to-day ruling of their realm. Thinking ahead, she installed a trusted ally as the new commander of the castle Ravaldino, which dominated the area. She did everything she could to ingratiate herself with the locals, but in a few short years her husband had done too much damage. On April 14, 1488, a group of men, clad in armor and led by Ludovico Orsi, stormed into the palace and stabbed the count to death, throwing his body out the window and into the city square. The countess, dining with her family in a nearby room, heard the shouts and quickly shuffled her six children into a safer room in the palace’s tower. She bolted the door and from a window, under which several of her most trusted allies had gathered, she shouted instructions to them: they were to notify the Sforzas in Milan and her other allies in the region and urge them to send armies to rescue her; under no circumstances should the keeper of Ravaldino ever surrender the castle. Within minutes the assassins had broken into her room, taking her and her children captive. Several days later, Ludovico Orsi and his fellow conspirator Giacomo del Ronche marched Caterina up to Ravaldino—she was to order the castle’s commander to surrender it to the assassins. As the commander she had installed, Tommaso Feo, looked down from the ramparts, Caterina seemed to fear for her life. Her voice breaking

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  during World War I, to be called Hell’s Angels . He hired a director and a team of writers to come up with the script, but he had a falling-out with the director and fired him. He then hired another director, Luther Reed, a man who was also an aviation buff and could relate better to the project, but soon he quit, tired of Hughes’s constant interfering in the project. His last words to Hughes were “If you know so much, why don’t you direct it yourself?” Hughes followed his advice and named himself the director. The budget began to soar as he strove for the utmost in realism. Month after month, year after year went by as Hughes ran through hundreds of crewmembers and stunt pilots, three of whom died in fiery accidents. After endless battles, he ended up firing almost every head of a department and running things himself. He fussed over every shot, every angle, every storyboard. Finally Hell’s Angels premiered in 1930 and it was a smash hit. The story was a mess, but the flying and action sequences thrilled audiences. Now the legend of Howard Hughes was born. He was the dashing young maverick who had bucked the system and created a hit. He was the rugged individualist who did everything himself. The film had cost a whopping $3.8 million to make and had lost close to $2 million, but nobody paid attention to this. Hughes himself was humble and claimed to have learned his lesson on the production: “Making Hell’s Angels by myself was my biggest mistake. . . . Trying to do the work of twelve men was just dumbness on my part. I learned by bitter experience that no one man can know everything.” During the 1930s the Hughes legend only seemed to grow as he piloted planes to several world records in speed, courting death on several occasions. Hughes had spun off from his father’s company a new business venture called Hughes Aircraft, which he hoped to transform into the biggest manufacturer of airplanes in the world. At the time, this required procuring large military contracts for planes, and as the U.S. entered World War II Hughes made a big play for such a contract. In 1942 various officials in the Defense Department, impressed by his aviation feats, the meticulous attention to detail he revealed in his interviews, and his tireless lobbying efforts, decided to award Hughes Aircraft an $18 million grant to produce three enormous transport planes, called the Hercules, which would be used to ferry soldiers and supplies to various fronts in the war. The planes were called flying boats and were to have wingspans longer than a football field and stand over three stories high at the hull. If the company did a good job on this, bringing the planes in on time and on budget, they would order many more and Hughes could corner the market in transport planes.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  remain in power long enough to realize great projects. But as you get older, the authority you established can become rigid and stodgy. You become the father figure who starts to seem oppressive by how long he has monopolized power, no matter how deeply people admired him in the past. A new generation inevitably emerges that is immune to your charm, to the aura you have created. They see you as a relic. You also have the tendency as you get older to become ever so slightly intolerant and tyrannical, as you cannot help but expect people to follow you. Without being aware, you start to feel entitled, and people sense this. Besides, the public wants newness and fresh faces. The first step in avoiding this danger is to maintain the kind of sensitivity that Elizabeth displayed throughout her life, noting the moods behind people’s words, gauging the effect you have on newcomers and young people. Losing that empathy should be your greatest fear, as you will begin to cocoon yourself in your great reputation. The second step is to look for new markets and audiences to appeal to, which will force you to adapt. If possible, expand the reach of your authority. Without making a fool of yourself by attempting to appeal to a younger crowd that you cannot really understand, try to alter your style somewhat with the passing years. In the arts, this has been the secret to success of people like Pablo Picasso, or Alfred Hitchcock, or Coco Chanel. Such flexibility in those who are in their fifties and beyond will give you a touch of the divine and immortal— your spirit remains alive and open, and your authority is renewed. The Inner Authority We all have a higher and a lower self. At certain moments in life, we can definitely feel one part or the other as the stronger. When we accomplish things, when we finish what we start, we can sense the outlines of this higher self. We feel it as well when we think of others before ourselves, when we let go of our ego, when instead of merely reacting to events, we step back and think and strategize the best way forward. But equally we know all too well the stirrings of the lower self, when we take everything personally and become petty, or when we want to escape reality through some addictive pleasure, or when we waste time, or when we feel confused and unmotivated. Although we most often float between these two sides, if we look at ourselves closely, we have to admit that the lower half is the stronger one. It is the more primitive and animal part of our nature. If nothing impels us to do otherwise, we naturally become indolent, crave quick pleasures, turn inward, and brood over petty matters. It often takes great effort and awareness to tame this lower half and bring out the higher side; it is not our first impulse.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  If you are producing a digital translation that meets the above requirements, you the translator and/or publisher will send your name and contact information, and a digital link to, or a digital version of, your translation of Stone Butch Blues, to me at the address posted on http://wwwilesliefeinberg.net/ If you are producing a print translation that meets the above requirements, you the translator and/or publisher will send your name and contact information and 2 copies of that print version to me at the address posted on my web site.. I will also post a link to your print edition information at http:// wwwilesliefeinberg.net/ For more information about translations, visit http://www.lesliefeinberg.net NO “INTRODUCTIONS”! For many decades, as I grew up, the only publications about people who were oppressed based on their sexes, gender expressions, and sexualities were books that had psychological/psychiatric “experts” writing about those lives. The words of the oppressed individual then became the “patient narrative” that was stretched or chopped, as if into a Procrustean bed of torture, to fit the theory of the “experts.” Stone Butch Blues speaks in its own voice and needs no expert between reader and protagonist. I accept that translators into other languages may want to provide translator notes about overcoming specific difficulties in translating this novel. But—please do not introduce the novel to readers! This novel can introduce itself to readers, and so can Jess Goldberg. Stone Butch Blues is the voice of someone who is living the oppressions, resistance and pride. Let the reader hear Jess Goldberg’s own words. Stone Butch Blues 359 ABOUT LESLIE FEINBERG —Managing Editor of Workers World newspaper (on EESTIE FEINBERG medical leave since 2007) —Proud member: National Writers Union/UAW, Local 1981, and Pride @ Work/a constituency group of the AFL-CIO —Co-founder, Rainbow Flags for Mumia Abu-Jamal Feinberg speaks in support of Abu-Jamal at Madison Square Garden, 2000 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zV4rxNZaF9M —Co-founder, Rainbow Solidarity for the Cuban Five Feinberg says ‘Free the Cuban Five!” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jd66WBOyitk From Lavender & Red: 120-part series http://www.workers.org/lavender-red/ 360 = Leslie Feinberg More information about Leslie Feinberg: http://www.transgenderwatrior.org/ http://www.lesliefeinberg.net/ A resumé of struggle: http://www.transgenderwarrior.org/references.html A list of books: http://www.transgenderwatrior.org/books.html A partial bibliography of writings, compiled by M.R. Cook: http://www.transgenderwarrior.org/references.html A social biography: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leslie_Feinberg Palestinians mark Land Day with protests by Leslie Feinberg Sakhnin, Occupied Palestine, April 8, 2007 http://www.workers.org/2007/world/ palestine-0412/ Photo credit: Leslie Feinberg ‘Land Day,’ Palestine, 2007 Stone Butch Blues 361 On October 21, 2007, I was felled by illness while traveling. I have been mostly at home dealing with an acute health crisis since that time. See: “Casualty of an undeclared war” These are my research notes on the U.S “Lyme/+ wars” http://www.transgenderwatrior.org/ For updates: http://www.lesliefeinberg.net/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ groups /155129424499130/ 362 = Leslie Feinberg Photo credit: Vanessa Edwards Foster ‘Leslie Feinberg honoring Sylvia Rivera’ 2002 Memorial, New York City ‘FREE CECE! Photo credit: Billy Navarro Jr. Photo credit: Billy Navarro Jr. ‘Leslie Feinberg tagging the County Jail’ ‘Leslie Feinberg arrested’ Minneapolis, June 4, 2012 Minneapolis, June 4, 2012 Stone Butch Blues 363

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  If you have a bit more than that, you can throw in a proper sausage, like a bratwurst, or maybe a fried egg. The biggest one, with all the upgrades, is enough to feed three people. For us, the ultimate upgrade was to throw on a slice of cheese. Cheese was always the thing because it was so expensive. Forget the gold standard—the hood operated on the cheese standard. Cheese on anything was money. If you got a burger, that was cool, but if you got a cheeseburger, that meant you had more money than a guy who just got a hamburger. Cheese on a sandwich, cheese in your fridge, that meant you were living the good life. In any township in South Africa, if you had a bit of money, people would say, “Oh, you’re a cheese boy.” In essence: You’re not really hood because your family has enough money to buy cheese. In Alex, because Bongani and his crew lived in East Bank, they were considered cheese boys. Ironically, because they lived on the first street just over the river, they were looked down on as the scruff of East Bank and the kids in the nicer houses higher up in East Bank were the cheesier cheese boys. Bongani and his crew would never admit to being cheese boys. They would insist, “We’re not cheese. We’re hood.” But then the real hood guys would say, “Eh, you’re not hood. You’re cheese.” “We’re not cheese,” Bongani’s guys would say, pointing further up East Bank. “They’re cheese.” It was all a bunch of ridiculous posturing about who was hood and who was cheese. Bongani was the leader of his crew, the guy who got everyone together and got things moving. Then there was Mzi, Bongani’s henchman. Small guy, just wanted to tag along, be in the mix. Bheki was the drinks man, always finding us booze and always coming up with an excuse to drink. Then there was Kakoatse. We called him G. Mr. Nice Guy. All G was interested in was women. If women were in the mix, he was in the game. Then, finally, there was Hitler, the life of the party. Hitler just wanted to dance. Cheese boys were in a uniquely fucked situation when apartheid ended. It is one thing to be born in the hood and know that you will never leave the hood. But the cheese boy has been shown the world outside. His family has done okay. They have a house. They’ve sent him to a decent school; maybe he’s even matriculated. He has been given more potential, but he has not been given more opportunity. He has been given an awareness of the world that is out there, but he has not been given the means to reach it. The unemployment rate, technically speaking, was “lower” in South Africa during apartheid, which makes sense. There was slavery— that’s how everyone was employed.

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

  õ This confident homily by a pope born and raised in Poland was not comforting to communists. This was not proof that they were on their way to building a communist utopia populated by “the new socialist man” who believed in “scientific atheism.” Poland almost seemed more Christian than ever; in fact, 93 percent of the population had been baptized. The audience even interrupted the pope by chanting, “We want God! We want God!” THE COLLAPSE OF COMMUNISM IN POLAND õ Those chants are indicative of this fact: Even if Pope John Paul II was a great leader who galvanized Christians and other dissenters, he didn’t revive a dying church. It was already surprisingly vibrant when he became pope. õ Poland has been damaged over the centuries, repeatedly attacked and dominated by more powerful neighbors on all sides. In this context, Catholicism became a uniquely potent part of Polish national identity. õ Church leaders in Poland had been savvy. Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński, who was a mentor to John Paul II, had worked for years to develop an understanding with the communist government. He alternated between confrontation and careful diplomacy. Even though Wyszyński had spent plenty of time in prison by the late 1970s, he had helped build a church that enjoyed more freedoms than other Christian groups in communist Europe. õ Meanwhile, the Polish economy was crumbling under the strain of the Soviet system. Food shortages, price hikes, and violent strikes compelled more and more Poles to doubt their government. Lecture 26—The Rival Gods of the Cold War 259

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I smiled. “I’m so proud of you.” Theresa studied my face. “Really? I was afraid you'd think it was a really stupid thing to do.” I shook my head. “You were really brave.” “T was very scared,” she sighed. I smiled. “Somebody once told me that being brave means doing what you gotta do even though you're scared.” Theresa looked up at me. “Do you get scared, Jess?” Her question stunned me. “Are you kidding? Pm scared all the time.” She nodded. “I thought you must be, but this is the first time you’ve ever said it to me.” “Really? Don’t I talk to you about how I feel?” Theresa bit her lower lip and shook her head. My face burned. “I thought you knew.” She nodded. “I do know—sometimes, most of the time. But you never talk about it.” I sighed. “I don’t have any words, honey. I don’t know how to talk about what I feel. I don’t know if I even feel things like other people do.” Peaches gently pulled Theresa away from me. “C’mon y’all. We’re gonna buy Georgetta and Theresa drinks till they can’t stand up.” Ed arrived at the bar twenty minutes later. “I missed it?” she shouted. “Oh, shit. Why couldn’t I have been here?” I laughed. “Be glad you weren't. It could have gone another way. It was right on the edge.” Jan clapped me on the shoulder. “Yeah, but the femmes showed them tonight— don’t mess with us. It was like what happened in Greenwich Village a couple of weeks ago.” I frowned. “What happened?” “Stonewall!”? Grant shouted. I looked at Ed and shrugged. Jan grinned. “The cops tried to raid a bar in Greenwich Village, but they got a fight instead. The drag queens and he-shes really kicked ass.” Grant laughed. “I heard they tried to burn the bar down with the cops barricaded inside.” I sighed. “Shit, I wish I had been there.” “Yeah,” Ed thumped her fist on the bar, “that’s how I feel about missing what happened tonight.” | My friends converged on me the moment I set foot inside Abba’s. Ed looked as excited as I was. “‘Let’s see the ring!” she said. I looked around. “Is Theresa here yet?” Ed shook her head. “Not yet. C’mon, hurry up.” I pulled the silk handkerchief out of my inside jacket pocket and opened it. The gold band was studded with a tiny diamond and two small ruby chips. Everyone made the same sound at once. Oooh! Ed patted me on the shoulder. “How long you two been together?” “Close to two years.” Ed laughed. “And how long you had that ring on layaway?” I smiled and shrugged. “A long damn time. Is everybody ready?” Edwin nodded. “Jan and Frankie are in the bathroom getting ready. They couldn’t get white dinner jackets so we all got cream color. Is that OK?”

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  The man looked over the top of his seat at us. “What’s it to your” “That’s my sister you’re talking about,” Ben glared. “Oh, sorry,” the guy said. He looked at me and squinted. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” “You ever work in Texas?” I asked him. He shook his head. “Then you don’t know me,” I told him. The bus lurched into motion. We were headed out to a plant in Tonawanda. The agency promised us a steady gig with the possibility of permanent hire. Ben and I rode in comfortable silence. When the noise level on the bus became boisterous I whispered to him, “Is Annie really your sister?”” He smiled and winked. “Did you really work in Texas?” he asked me. I smiled and winked back. As we approached the plant I saw picket lines barricading the entrance. Then I understood—we were hired to break a strike. “Scabs!” the shout went up the moment we got off the bus. It was hard to catch my breath in the frigid air. Ben stood at my side. “I don’t want any part of this,” he said. I heard a woman’s voice shouting through a bullhorn. “We’re gonna hold this line. We’re not going to let a single scab through. ’m ready to do whatever I have to do to defend our jobs and our union! Are you?” The union women and men roared their agreement. The cops flipped the visors down on their riot helmets and held their clubs horizontally across their chests. Those billy clubs were almost as thick and long as baseball bats. The cops were ready to attack in order to bring us in as scabs. 196 = Leslie Feinberg Another temp bus arrived. The men who got off that bus gravitated toward us. We formed a group of sixty men. I looked around at the guys I rode in with. The oldest of the men announced loudly, “The devil can’t buy my soul!” “Well, I need a job, goddamn it. I got a family to feed,” someone behind me yelled. “T’m no scab,” Ben shouted. “I never crossed a picket line in my life and I never will. And I’ve got no respect for any man who does.” He took his UAW catd out of his wallet and held it aloft so the picketers could see. Several of the other men pulled out their union cards and held them up proudly, too. I clenched my fist and pumped the air. The strikers cheered us. Less than a dozen of the temp laborers agreed to be escorted by police into the plant. Most of the guys got on the bus again and asked the driver to take us back to the agency. I listened to the men talk to each other as we rode. This bicentennial year was supposed to be filled with patriotism, but the guys were sounding more and mote like Theresa used to talk. “There’s more hard times coming, mark my words.”

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  Because I am ill, your translation will be the last until I can publish a notice about translation agreements online. Illness is forcing me to resort to group communications. If I were in better health, I would have asked if I could write an introduction to the Serbo-Croat readers of Stoun Bué Bluz. Instead, I send this message of introduction to readers of Stoun Buc Bluz, as best I can write at this time: Message from Lesli Fajnberg: I am proud that the Kolektiv Queer Beograd published Stoun Bué Bluz XBaJia yHo! I feel respect for the activists of Kolektiv Queer Beograd because they confront racism and fascism with direct action. Please allow me to make this brief introduction of my own relationship in the U.S. to today’s struggles in Serbia, Croatia and Kosovo. In the Spring of 1999, I took part in protests 344 Leslie keinberg against the merciless two-month U.S./NATO blitzkrieg of cities in the multi-national Socialist Federation of Yugoslavia, which were ordered by the Clinton administration and other imperialist powers. The peoples of Jugoslavija fought back valiantly and steadfastly, against such overwhelming military technology. On June 5, 1999, I joined thousands of people who matched from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington to the Pentagon. We demanded: “Money for jobs and education, not for war against Yugoslavia!” I spoke at that June 5 rally, concluding: “Zivela Jugoslavija!” EXPOSING ‘BIG LIES’ OF WARS OF PROFIT The monopoly media tried to claim that Pentagon and NATO forces, and the Kosovo “Liberation” Army (KLA) they armed and uniformed, were “liberation forces.” The imperialists don’t care about the rights of nationalities. Domestically, the imperialist countries are prison-houses for peoples who are oppressed based on nationality, immigration status, sex, gender expression and sexualities. One of the “Big Lies” of the monopoly media was the claim that the U.S./NATO bombing was “Justified” in order to “stop mass rape of women.” As a revolutionary journalist, I wrote the following articles that document how mass rape was taking place in a lucrative sex-enslavement industry set up after the NATO occupation. In occupied Kosovo—NATO, UN admit women are enslaved: http://www.workers.org/ww/2000/ kosovo0525.php ‘Big lie’ and breakup of Yugoslavia. Lavender & red, part 114: http://www.workers.org/2007/world/ lavender-red-114/ Wars, lies and ‘mass rape’ charges. Lavender & red, part 115: http://www.workers.org/2007/world/ lavender-red-115/ In May 2000, I wrote in Workers World newspaper about how the Kosovo “Liberation” Army—covertly armed by Germany and the US.—was a mercenary army. Many of its leaders traced their roots to a fascist unit set up by Italian occupiers during World War I. (New York Times, March 28, 2000) I joined protests when former Yugoslav President Slobodan Milosevic was tried for “war- crimes” in The Hague. Milosevic was forced to stand trial because he would not surrender Yugoslavia to the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank. Instead, the Pentagon and NATO generals should be tried for war crimes.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  The ball fell with a plop, right into Grant’s glove. It was the third out, so there was no reason to throw the ball to first base—but she did. The ball landed in my glove with a whack. I braced my arms as I extended the ball and the glove towards Boney’s nose, which was rapidly approaching me. There was a little snapping sound as his nose hit the ball. The game was officially over. We’d won. I didn’t have to kiss Jim Boney, who was now bleeding all over first base. I would’ve claimed it was an accident, but no one asked. I caught sight of Jack glaring at me—always the foreman, even at a picnic. His menacing look chilled me. But I let it go because almost all the guys from the other team came over and slapped us on the back and said they were glad we won. I realized these guys had just lost to a team of he-shes—tright in front of their wives and girlfriends—but they didn’t seem sore about it. The butches were happy about winning, but they hung back a bit. I knew they were kind of peeved at me. It was a cocky challenge I had hurled at Jim Boney. It could’ve turned into a defeat for all the butches on the job, and they knew it. It was Jan who broke the ice. “All’s well that ends well, right, kid?” She put her arm around me. “T think P’d have died before I’d let you kiss that guy.” I looked shocked. “You didn’t think I would’ve kissed him if we’d lost, do your” Tommy ran up, out of breath. “Good game,” he extended his hand. My expression was frozen, but I shook his hand. “Look, Pm sorry, OK?” he told me. I shrugged. “You're not a bad guy, Tommy. But in front of the other guys you sink like a stone. I just don’t trust you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Jan and I walked away. “You were pretty hard on him,” she said, “but I’m sure you had a good reason.” “Attention everyone! Can I have your attention!” It was Tommy, on top of a picnic table. We all came closer. He had Jim Boney’s prized baseball mitt in his hands. “On behalf of the losing team, Pd like to award the winning team this first baseman’s mitt. “Well,” he stammered, “first-base mitt’’ He tossed the glove to me. “You all won it fair and square.” Edna waited till Jan walked away from me before she came over. I saw the same deep pain in her eyes as she watched Jan from a distance. I wished a woman loved me that much. As Edna approached me, her Stone Butch Blues 95 mouth twisted into a teasing smile. She held my face lightly in both of her hands. “Good game, butch.” I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Aw, Edna, you know.”

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xvi. [xv.] 1, 2) Or take this explanation: The Jews were influenced by a kind of human sympathy for John, whom they were reluctant to see made subordinate to Christ, on account of the many marks of greatness about him; his illustrious descent in the first place, he being the son of a chief priest; in the next, his hard training, and his contempt of the world. Whereas in Christ the contrary were apparent; a humble birth, for which they, reproach Him; Is not this the carpenter’s son? (Mat. 13:55) an ordinary way of living; a dress such as every one else wore. As John then was constantly sending to Christ, they send to him, with the view of having him for their master, and thinking to induce him, by blandishments, to confess himself Christ. They do not therefore send inferior persons to him, ministers and Herodians, as they did to Christ, but Priests and Levites; and not of these an indiscriminate party, but those of Jerusalem, i. e. the more honourable ones; but they send them with this question, to ask, Who art thou? not from a wish to be informed, but in order to induce him to do what I have said. John replies then to their intention, not to their interrogation: And he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ. And observe the wisdom of the Evangelist: he repeats the same thing three times, to shew John’s virtue, and the malice and madness of the Jews. For it is the character of a devoted servant, not only to forbear taking to himself his lord’s glory, but even, when numbers offer it to him, to reject it. The multitude indeed believed from ignorance that John was the Christ, but in these it was malice; and in this spirit they put the question to him, thinking, by their blandishments to bring him over to their wishes. For unless this had been their design, when he replied, I am not the Christ, they would have said, We did not suspect this; we did not come to ask this. When caught, however, and discovered in their purpose, they proceed to another question: And they asked him, What then? Art thou Elias? AUGUSTINE. (in Joan. Tr. iv. c. 4) For they knew that Elias was to preach Christ; the name of Christ not being unknown to any among the Jews; but they did not think that He our Lord was the Christ: and yet did not altogether imagine that there was no Christ about to come. In this way, while looking forward to the future, they mistook at the present. And he said, I am not.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  90 Leslie Feinberg Jan shook my hand. Duffy clapped me on the back. “Atta girl’ Sammy, the truck driver, patted my shoulder. “He’s a jerk.” Walter, the repairman, caught my eyes and nodded his head once in my direction. “Alright,” Jack yelled as he turned the machinery back on, “get back to work, all of you.” None of us would have attended the union picnic if it wasn't for Duffy. It was his idea that I should organize all the butches to come. “And you can bring all your girlfriends,” he added. “Jess, do you have a girlfriend?” The look on my face answered him. I knew he was just trying to get to know me better, but that was not a great place to start. “Jess,” he said, “did I say it right? Gzr/friends, 1 mean.” I laughed. “You’re alright, Duffy.” The other butches weren’t all that wild about coming, but Jan understood it would be a breakthrough and she promised her lover, Edna, would come as well. Once Jan said yes, the other butches agreed. We brought our baseball equipment. Once Abba’s reopened in the spring we had formed the Abba Dabba Do’s softball team. Jan and Edna and I sat under a tree. Duffy brought us bottles of beer. “I like him,” Edna said, after he left. I smiled. “I do too.” Jan patted my shoulder and told Edna, “The kid’s becoming a real union organizer.” “Aw, Iam not,’ I demurred. “Hey, kid,” Jan told me. “We can use all the unity we can get. You been doing real good on this job trying to hold everything together. Take a few bows, OK?” I swelled with pride. Edna stood up. “I need a cup,” she said. I studied Jan as she watched Edna walk away. Her face was filled with pain. ’d unconsciously noticed the weight of Jan’s sadness lately, but I hadn’t really thought about it. Jan looked at me, and she let me see a little further into her eyes than usual. I tried to show her how much I cared about her before I spoke. “You OK?” I asked her. Jan shook her head slowly. “TI think I’m losing her,” she said. My stomach clenched. Jan slapped my thigh. “T’m gonna get another beer, you want one?” I stood up with her. “No, but,” I rested my hand on her arm, “if you ever need to talk, you know ...” Jan smiled and walked away. Duffy sat down next to me. “Hey, Jess, you’re the only one I know who I could ask this question.” I felt flattered. “T wanted to ask you about Ethel and Laverne,” Duffy said. I looked around. “Are they here?” Duffy shook his head. “Too bad,” I told him, “TI always wanted to meet theit husbands.” Duffy spoke carefully. “What’s the story with Ethel and Laverne? Are they lovers?” “Naw, they’re both married. You know that.” Duffy fumbled for words. “Yeah, but aren’t they butches?”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  A studio could churn these relatively inexpensive films out in volume, and even if they were only moderate hits, they would ensure a steady flow of income. This thinking went against the grain of the blockbuster mentality of the late 1970s, but who could argue with the undeniable profits Eisner had generated for Paramount? Eisner immortalized this formula in a memo that soon spread around Hollywood and became gospel. But after so many years of sharing the limelight with Diller at Paramount, trying to please corporate CEOs, and pushing back against marketing directors and finance people, Eisner had had enough. If only he could run his own studio, unfettered. With the formula he had created and with his relentless ambition, he could forge the greatest and most profitable entertainment empire in the world. He was tired of other people piggybacking on his ideas and success. Operating on top and alone, he could control the show and take all the credit. As Eisner contemplated this next critical move in his career that summer of ’84, he finally settled upon the perfect target for his ambitions—the Walt Disney Company. At first glance, this would seem a puzzling choice. Since the death of Walt Disney in 1966, the Walt Disney film studio seemed frozen in time, getting weirder with each passing year. The place operated more like a stodgy men’s club. Many executives stopped working after lunch and spent their afternoons in card games, or would lounge about in the steam room on site. Hardly anyone was ever fired. The studio produced one animated film about every four years and in 1983 produced a meager three live-action films. They had not had a single hit film since The Love Bug in 1968. The Disney lot in Burbank almost seemed like a ghost town. The actor Tom Hanks, who worked on the lot in 1983, described it as “a Greyhound bus station in the 1950s.” Given its dilapidated condition, however, this would be the perfect place for Eisner to work his magic. The studio and the corporation could only move up. Its board members were desperate to turn it around and avoid a hostile takeover. Eisner could dictate the terms of his leadership position. Presenting himself to Roy Disney (Walt’s nephew and the largest shareholder of Disney stock) as the company’s savior, he laid out a detailed and inspiring plan for a dramatic turnaround (greater than Paramount’s), and Roy was won over. With Roy’s blessing the board approved the choice, and in September 1984 Eisner was named chairman and CEO of the Walt Disney Company. Frank Wells, the former head of Warner Bros., was named president and chief operating officer. Wells would focus on the business side. In all matters Eisner was the boss; Wells was there to help and serve him. Eisner wasted no time.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  If you are producing a digital translation that meets the above requirements, you the translator and/or publisher will send your name and contact information, and a digital link to, or a digital version of, your translation of Stone Butch Blues, to me at the address posted on http://wwwilesliefeinberg.net/ If you are producing a print translation that meets the above requirements, you the translator and/or publisher will send your name and contact information and 2 copies of that print version to me at the address posted on my web site.. I will also post a link to your print edition information at http:// wwwilesliefeinberg.net/ For more information about translations, visit http://www.lesliefeinberg.net NO “INTRODUCTIONS”! For many decades, as I grew up, the only publications about people who were oppressed based on their sexes, gender expressions, and sexualities were books that had psychological/psychiatric “experts” writing about those lives. The words of the oppressed individual then became the “patient narrative” that was stretched or chopped, as if into a Procrustean bed of torture, to fit the theory of the “experts.” Stone Butch Blues speaks in its own voice and needs no expert between reader and protagonist. I accept that translators into other languages may want to provide translator notes about overcoming specific difficulties in translating this novel. But—please do not introduce the novel to readers! This novel can introduce itself to readers, and so can Jess Goldberg. Stone Butch Blues is the voice of someone who is living the oppressions, resistance and pride. Let the reader hear Jess Goldberg’s own words. Stone Butch Blues 359 ABOUT LESLIE FEINBERG —Managing Editor of Workers World newspaper (on EESTIE FEINBERG medical leave since 2007) —Proud member: National Writers Union/UAW, Local 1981, and Pride @ Work/a constituency group of the AFL-CIO —Co-founder, Rainbow Flags for Mumia Abu-Jamal Feinberg speaks in support of Abu-Jamal at Madison Square Garden, 2000 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zV4rxNZaF9M —Co-founder, Rainbow Solidarity for the Cuban Five Feinberg says ‘Free the Cuban Five!” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jd66WBOyitk From Lavender & Red: 120-part series http://www.workers.org/lavender-red/ 360 = Leslie Feinberg More information about Leslie Feinberg: http://www.transgenderwatrior.org/ http://www.lesliefeinberg.net/ A resumé of struggle: http://www.transgenderwarrior.org/references.html A list of books: http://www.transgenderwatrior.org/books.html A partial bibliography of writings, compiled by M.R. Cook: http://www.transgenderwarrior.org/references.html A social biography: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leslie_Feinberg Palestinians mark Land Day with protests by Leslie Feinberg Sakhnin, Occupied Palestine, April 8, 2007 http://www.workers.org/2007/world/ palestine-0412/ Photo credit: Leslie Feinberg ‘Land Day,’ Palestine, 2007 Stone Butch Blues 361 On October 21, 2007, I was felled by illness while traveling. I have been mostly at home dealing with an acute health crisis since that time. See: “Casualty of an undeclared war” These are my research notes on the U.S “Lyme/+ wars” http://www.transgenderwatrior.org/ For updates: http://www.lesliefeinberg.net/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ groups /155129424499130/ 362 = Leslie Feinberg Photo credit: Vanessa Edwards Foster ‘Leslie Feinberg honoring Sylvia Rivera’ 2002 Memorial, New York City ‘FREE CECE! Photo credit: Billy Navarro Jr. Photo credit: Billy Navarro Jr. ‘Leslie Feinberg tagging the County Jail’ ‘Leslie Feinberg arrested’ Minneapolis, June 4, 2012 Minneapolis, June 4, 2012 Stone Butch Blues 363

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  remain in power long enough to realize great projects. But as you get older, the authority you established can become rigid and stodgy. You become the father figure who starts to seem oppressive by how long he has monopolized power, no matter how deeply people admired him in the past. A new generation inevitably emerges that is immune to your charm, to the aura you have created. They see you as a relic. You also have the tendency as you get older to become ever so slightly intolerant and tyrannical, as you cannot help but expect people to follow you. Without being aware, you start to feel entitled, and people sense this. Besides, the public wants newness and fresh faces. The first step in avoiding this danger is to maintain the kind of sensitivity that Elizabeth displayed throughout her life, noting the moods behind people’s words, gauging the effect you have on newcomers and young people. Losing that empathy should be your greatest fear, as you will begin to cocoon yourself in your great reputation. The second step is to look for new markets and audiences to appeal to, which will force you to adapt. If possible, expand the reach of your authority. Without making a fool of yourself by attempting to appeal to a younger crowd that you cannot really understand, try to alter your style somewhat with the passing years. In the arts, this has been the secret to success of people like Pablo Picasso, or Alfred Hitchcock, or Coco Chanel. Such flexibility in those who are in their fifties and beyond will give you a touch of the divine and immortal— your spirit remains alive and open, and your authority is renewed. The Inner Authority We all have a higher and a lower self. At certain moments in life, we can definitely feel one part or the other as the stronger. When we accomplish things, when we finish what we start, we can sense the outlines of this higher self. We feel it as well when we think of others before ourselves, when we let go of our ego, when instead of merely reacting to events, we step back and think and strategize the best way forward. But equally we know all too well the stirrings of the lower self, when we take everything personally and become petty, or when we want to escape reality through some addictive pleasure, or when we waste time, or when we feel confused and unmotivated. Although we most often float between these two sides, if we look at ourselves closely, we have to admit that the lower half is the stronger one. It is the more primitive and animal part of our nature. If nothing impels us to do otherwise, we naturally become indolent, crave quick pleasures, turn inward, and brood over petty matters. It often takes great effort and awareness to tame this lower half and bring out the higher side; it is not our first impulse.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  doesn’t understand is that I have the brains of Duke Galeazzo and I am as brilliant as he!” As she waited for their response, she knew she controlled the situation. Her only fear was that her husband would surrender and betray her, or that the August heat would make her too ill to wait it out. Finally, sensing her resolve, a group of cardinals came to the castle to negotiate, and they acceded to her demands. The following morning, as the drawbridge was lowered to let the countess leave the castle, she noticed an enormous crowd pushing close to her. Romans of all classes had come to catch a glimpse of the woman who had controlled Rome for eleven days. They had taken the countess for a rather frivolous young woman addicted to clothes, the pope’s little pet. Now they stared at her in astonishment—she was wearing one of her silk gowns, with a heavy sword dangling from a man’s belt, her pregnancy more than evident. They had never seen such a sight. Their titles now secure, the count and countess moved to Forlì to rule their domain. With no more funds coming from the papacy, Girolamo’s main concern was how to get more money. And so he increased the taxes on his subjects, stirring up much discontent in the process. He quickly made enemies of the powerful Orsi family in the region. Fearing plots against his life, the count holed himself up in their palace. Slowly Caterina took over much of the day-to-day ruling of their realm. Thinking ahead, she installed a trusted ally as the new commander of the castle Ravaldino, which dominated the area. She did everything she could to ingratiate herself with the locals, but in a few short years her husband had done too much damage. On April 14, 1488, a group of men, clad in armor and led by Ludovico Orsi, stormed into the palace and stabbed the count to death, throwing his body out the window and into the city square. The countess, dining with her family in a nearby room, heard the shouts and quickly shuffled her six children into a safer room in the palace’s tower. She bolted the door and from a window, under which several of her most trusted allies had gathered, she shouted instructions to them: they were to notify the Sforzas in Milan and her other allies in the region and urge them to send armies to rescue her; under no circumstances should the keeper of Ravaldino ever surrender the castle. Within minutes the assassins had broken into her room, taking her and her children captive. Several days later, Ludovico Orsi and his fellow conspirator Giacomo del Ronche marched Caterina up to Ravaldino—she was to order the castle’s commander to surrender it to the assassins. As the commander she had installed, Tommaso Feo, looked down from the ramparts, Caterina seemed to fear for her life. Her voice breaking

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I shook my head in amazement. “Won't you get in trouble if you don’t punch in?” Theresa smiled and patted my cheek. “Would Stone Butch Blues 141 you cross a picket line?” she asked me. “Come into the kitchen, I want to show you something.” I made coffee while Theresa unrolled something she’d brought home. “Which of these posters do you like better?” Theresa asked me. I held one up. “Do you know what this looks like?” Theresa nodded. “That’s what it is.” I did a double take. “Aren’t there laws against that?” Theresa laughed gently. “What a prude! What about this one?” It was a picture of two naked women wrapped in each othet’s arms. I read the words out loud: “Sisterhood—make it real. What does that mean?” Theresa smiled. “Think about it, Jess. It means women need to stick together. Can we put it up on the wall?” I shrugged. “Sure, I guess. You’re really getting into this women’s lib stuff, aren’t your” Theresa sat me on a kitchen chair and plopped down on my lap. She pushed the hair out of my eyes. “Yeah,” she said, “I am. I’m realizing a lot of things about my own life—about being a woman— that I never even thought about until the women’s movement.” 148 = Leslie Feinberg I listened to her. “I don’t feel it so much,” I told her. “Maybe ’cause I’m a butch.” She kissed my forehead. “Butches need women’s liberation, too.” I laughed. “We dor” Theresa nodded. “Yes, you do. Anything that’s good for women is good for butches.” “Yeah,” she said. “And another thing.” I sighed wearily. “Uh-oh.” Theresa smiled. “When a woman tells me, ‘If I wanted a man I’d be with a real one,’ I tell her, ‘?m not with a fake man, I’m with a real butch.”’ I beamed with pride. “But,” Theresa added, “that doesn’t mean that butches can’t learn a thing or two from the women’s movement about how to respect femmes.” I slid Theresa off my lap. “Hey, what are you talking aboute” I got up and started washing dishes. She turned me around by my shoulder. “I mean,” she continued, “that it’s time for women to start looking at how we treat each other. Femmes need to work on it with each other, too.” It was a momentary reprieve, but I took it. “What do femmes need to learn?” Theresa thought for a moment. “How to stick together. How to be loyal to each other.” “Hmm.” I weighed the information. “OK, what do butches need to learn?” Theresa pushed me back against the sink. “The next time all you butches are sitting around talking at the bar, listen to how many times you hear the words chicks ot broads or hooters or headlights.” Theresa leaned her body against me.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I understand what he was driving at. “Well, they’re he-shes, but they’re not butches.” Duffy laughed and shook his head. “I don’t get it.” I shrugged. “There’s not much to get, really. I mean they look like Spencer Tracy and Montgomery Clift, but they really seem to love the guys they married.” Duffy shook his head. “But they’re inseparable. Don’t you think maybe they’re lovers and they’re afraid to let people know?” Stone Butch Blues 91 I thought about it for a moment. “Jeez, Duffy, it’s not like they’re getting off much easier by being married—they’re still he-shes. They’ve gotta deal with the same shit butches do. Imagine Laverne going into the ladies room at the movies. Or Ethel at a bridal shower. I don’t think people who give them a rough time give a fuck who they sleep with. It’s probably harder for them, too,” I added. “They don’t have a place to go like we do—I mean like the bars. All they got is their husbands and each other.” Duffy smiled and shook his head. “The way Ethel and Laverne are with each other, I was sure they were lovers.” “Oh, they love each other alright. You can see that. But it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re hot and bothered for each other. They really understand each other. Maybe each of them just likes looking in the other’s mirror and seeing a reflection that smiles back.” Duffy put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me. “You’re very smart about people,’ he said. I blushed with pride and pulled away in embarrassment. “I’m gonna get some food.” I heard Grant’s voice rising before I saw the confrontation. She was shouting, nose to nose, with 92 Leslie Feinberg Jim Boney. “What do you mean you don’t want no fucking girls on your team?” she yelled. Boney shouted in the direction of the other guys, “Cause we want to win, don’t we, guys?” He smacked his fist into his first-base mitt. “Hey Boney,” I called out as I strode toward them, “you talking about softball? We'll kick your ass!” A silence fell over the picnic. For one thing, everyone knew this was about a lot more than a softball game. On the other hand, baseball was sacred to these guys. The thought of playing against girls bordered on heresy. If they won, where was the victory? If they lost ... it was too humiliating for them to consider. Even the butches stared at me with a horrified look on their faces. But it was too late, my boast hung in the air. “C’mon, Boney,” I said. “We'll challenge you to three innings, and we'll whip you, too.” Boney sneered. “Bet you won’t, Goldberg.” The way he said my name made me realize how much he also hated me as a Jew.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  I am destined. Grandiose leaders often try to give the impression that they were somehow destined for greatness. They tell stories of their childhood and youth that indicate their uniqueness, as if fate had singled them out. They highlight events that showed from early on their unusual toughness or creativity, either making such stories up or reinterpreting the past. They relate tales from earlier in their career in which they overcame impossible odds. The future great leader was already in gestation at a young age, or so they make it seem. When you hear such things you must become skeptical. They are trying to forge a myth, which they themselves probably have come to believe in. Look for the more mundane facts behind the tales of destiny and, if possible, publicize them. I’m the common man/woman. In some cases grandiose leaders may have risen from the lower classes, but in general they either come from relatively privileged backgrounds or because of their success have lived removed from the cares of everyday people for quite some time. Nevertheless it is absolutely essential to present themselves to the public as highly representative of the average man and woman out there. Only through such a presentation can they attract the attention and the adoration of large enough numbers to satisfy themselves. Indira Gandhi, the prime minister of India from 1966 to 1977 and 1980 to 1984, came from political royalty, her father Jawaharlal Nehru having been the first prime minister of the country. She was educated in Europe and lived for most of her life far apart from the poorer segments of India. But as a grandiose leader who later became quite dictatorial, she positioned herself as one with the people, their voice speaking through her. She altered her language when speaking in front of large crowds and used homely metaphors when she visited small villages. She would wear her sari as local women wore them and would eat with her fingers. She liked to present herself as “Mother Indira,” who ruled over India in a familiar, motherly manner. And this style she assumed was highly effective in winning elections, even though it was pure stagecraft. The trick grandiose leaders play is to place the emphasis on their cultural tastes, not on the actual class they come from. They may fly first class and wear the most expensive suits, but they counteract this by seeming to have the same culinary tastes as the public, enjoy the same movies as others, and avoid at all costs the whiff of cultural elitism. In fact, they will go out of their way to ridicule the elites, even though they probably depend on such experts to guide them. They are simply just like the common folk out there, but with a lot more money and power.