New Alexandria: An Alternate History

This whole post came out of a misremembering of the poem on the base of the Statue of Liberty, a sonnet written by Emma Lazarus called "The New Colossus":

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Well, despite the fact that even the title references the Colossus of Rhodes, my dumb ass remembered the first line as, "Just like the blazing lighthouse of Greek fame" because it was 6:30 AM, the coffee hadn't kicked in, and I was listening to a podcast about Cleopatra ("Timesuck" if anyone is curious)

So I was thinking (until two hours later when I remembered the poem is literally called The New Colossus, for fuck's sake Nym) that it was a reference to another wonder of the ancient world - the Lighthouse of Alexandria.

And it occurred to me that, in a way... it wouldn't exactly be incorrect to say New York City is sort of a New Alexandria. I mean, not for nothing, but certain areas of New York wouldn't look out of place in the classical world:

Alexandria and New York City both have reputations as multicultural metropolises (metropolii?) by the water, but what particularly sells it for me is the fact that Alexandria was one of many ancient cities named for Alexander the Great. And in a way, New York City has its own Alexander the Great in the form of Alexander Hamilton, who was so associated with this city even in his lifetime, that his enemies (Jefferson and his cronies) nicknamed it Hamiltonopolis. (And not for nothing, but I think that makes John Laurens Hephaestion, which is weirdly fitting, all things considering.)

I'm sure Amsterdam and York are both great cities, but perhaps it's time to associate NYC with another city entirely...

I know this was a short, somewhat silly post. But it's food for thought, isn't it?
-Nymicus Lesbianicus

P.S. There's a novel idea in here somewhere, something with Cleopatra as mayor of NYC and Marc Antony and Gaius Octavian both running for governor, but I'm probably not gonna write it anytime soon.

The Museum Girls Visit Rock Hall Museum

On this past Sunday, a group of friends and I went out to Long Island to visit Rock Hall Museum, a historic house from c. 1767 that none of us had ever heard of.

It was so worth the trip, you guys.

From getting to pet chickens to learning about some more Revolutionary War history to conspiracy theory conversations at a kitschy German food hall to having to climb into a building through the window, one thing is for sure - it's never a dull day when the Museum Girls get involved!

NYC's Gay Culture of the 1920s, and the Invention of 'The Closet'

A group of lesbians at NYC venue Webster Hall [Public Domain]

In the popular imagination, most people imagine that gay culture in New York City started in 1969 with the Stonewall Riots. This has always kind of pissed me off as a gay person, if only for the reason that if you even try to bring up the idea of anyone having a gay life before the 60s people just assume it couldn't be possible. As if we as LGBT folk didn't exist until the late 60s as anything other than the occasional person hung for sodomy or something. Condescendingly, many straights imagine that the gays of yore must have become self-loathing and passively spent their entire lives in the closet until Stonewall happened. Not that the Stonewall Riots weren't tremendously important, of course - that's not at all what I am saying - but gay clubs didn't get their start with Stonewall and Julian's and the Duplex, and the systematic suppression of the LGBT community was not due to some age-old, unchanging social antipathy, nor was it a sign of passivity by LGBT people. Anti-gay forces created the closet in the early 20th century.

Believe it or not, there was actually an earlier gay subculture in NYC - and it wasn't some hidden illicit thing! Granted, of course many straight people disapproved, but people were open about this subculture, and it was even written about in papers! And when else could this have happened but in the era of, as Cole Porter (a gay man himself) put it, "Anything Goes" - The Roarin' Twenties?

This was an era of, after all, the breaking down of pre-WWI social norms, as well as cultural experimentation and an overall irreverence for authority. Greenwich Village and Harlem in particular had a huge number of speakeasies that catered to gay men and lesbian women. One such club was known as the Hamilton Lodge. (It wasn't named directly after Alexander Hamilton, but after the neighbourhood of Hamilton Heights where it was located, which was named after Hamilton.)

An Authentic Hindu Temple in Queens

If you measure the importance of an institution by the height of its buildings, Wall Street has it over religion here in New York City. (Considering that the New York region was originally colonised by Dutch merchants rather than English Puritans, this makes some sense.) Still, New York is a vibrant quilt of religious ideas and practise - a diverse, tolerant (for the most part), disunited, immigrant-energised phenomenon that grew up under the eye of mercantile sensibility. And one of the places where this is most evident is the enormous Hindu temple in Queens.

So... I actually went to this location way back in October and meant to write about it then but got the awful news about my nephew's death before I could. Still, I recently found my notes I'd taken when visiting and figured it was still worth recapping. SO.

Queens is probably the most diverse borough in New York City - the 7 Train has been nicknamed "the international express" due to the fact that it passes through neighbourhoods primarily populated by immigrants from Thailand, Mexico, Tibet, China, Korea, India, and more. And if you get on the 7 Train, and get off in the Flushing neighbourhood, you'll find yourself in the centre of one of the most authentic Chinatowns in New York.  That's worth visiting in and of itself, but if you walk out a little further (it's about a 15-20 minute walk from the 7-Train), you'll spot - rising above apartment buildings and bodegas - an intricately carved Granite structure that looks as if it's been airlifted from the heart of India. (It is actually built of granite imported from India, so that's not entirely inaccurate.)

This is the Hindu Temple Society of North America, commonly referred to as the Ganesh Temple as Ganesh is its primary deity. It was the first Hindu temple in the United States, it's definitely one of the larger religious structures in NYC (though there are churches that are larger), and it's an experience like no other.

Top 10 Romantic Excerpts of Letters Between Hamilton and Laurens

I sincerely doubt that, within my lifetime, there will ever be a definitive answer to the question “did Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens have romantic feelings for one another?” Their letters certainly do seem to suggest so to some people. Even if one takes into account that men were a lot more outwardly affectionate with one another in the 18th century, the way these two spoke to each other was unusually romantically charged even for the time.

This may or may not end up a controversial post. I hope it doesn’t but inevitably when one brings up the possibility that anyone involved in the founding of this country was anything other than ultra hetero, it makes certain people ultra upsetero. But guess what - I don’t give a fuck. I’m almost 30 and frankly I’m done caring what straight people think when I speculate.

Also I’m not alone in this speculation - the theory that John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton May have had feelings for each other that were way more than friendly is not a new theory! I know some people want to pretend that this is something teenage “Hamilton” fans on tumblr made up (and even if it were, fuck off? Let teenagers - literal children - have fun while they try to find representation for themselves?) but this is actually a legitimate scholarly debate that’s been going on for years. There is a long-running gay veteran's club in San Francisco named after Hamilton, the New York City LGBT sites project lists Hamilton Grange in its LGBT historical sites list, so this is clearly a legacy that means a lot to a lot of people, regardless of whatever the general consensus ends up being. Even mainstream Hamilton biographer Ron Chernow had this to say about it, even if he was slightly “no homo” about it:

As the war progressed, Hamilton wrote to Laurens with such unbridled affection that one Hamilton biography, James T. Flexner, has detected homoerotic overtones in their relationship. Because the style of eighteenth-century letters could be quite florid, even between men, one must tread gingerly in approaching this matter, especially since Laurens’s letters to Hamilton were warm but proper. It is worth noting here, however, how frequently people used the word feminine to describe Hamilton – the more surprising given his military bearing and virile exploits... Hamilton had certainly been exposed to homosexuality as a boy, since many "sodomites” were transported to the Caribbean along with thieves, pickpockets, and others deemed undesirable. In all thirteen colonies, sodomy had been a capital offense, so if Hamilton and Laurens did become lovers – and it is impossible to day this with any certainty—they would have taken extraordinary precautions... At the very least, we can say that Hamilton developed something like an adolescent crush on his friend.

[... ]

For Hamilton, the news [of Laurens’s death] was crushing. ‘Poor Laurens, he has fallen a sacrifice to his ardor in a trifling skirmish in South Carolina,’ he wrote sadly to Lafayette, the other member of their war triumvirate. ‘You know how truly I loved him and will judge how much I regret him.’ The death deprived Hamilton of the political peer, the steadfast colleague, that he was to need in his tempestuous battles to consolidate the union. He would enjoy a brief collaboration with James Madison and never lacked the stalwart if often aloof patronage of George Washington. But he was more of a solitary crusader without Laurens, lacking an intimate lifelong ally such as Madison and Jefferson found in each other. On a personal level, the loss was even more harrowing. Despite a large circle of admirers, Hamilton did not form deep friendships easily and never again revealed his interior life to another man as he had to Laurens. He became ever more voluble in his public life but somehow less introspective and revelatory in private. Henceforth, his confessional remarks were reserved for Eliza or Angelica Church. After the death of John Laurens, Hamilton shut off some compartment of his emotions and never reopened it.

Historian Thomas Foster writes this about it:

Virtually all other biographers ignore the love between Laurens and Hamilton. One author, for example, mentions every aspect of Washington’s sexual scandals, however untenable, and thereby highlights his virility, but makes no mention of the controversy around how to read the Laurens correspondence or the fact that some historians for decades have been using it as evidence of same-sex love. Indeed, the book, which highlights “intimacy” in the Founders’ lives, limits itself to that shared between men and women, despite the fact that the author’s conceptualization of intimacy is not solely sexual and include bonds between parent and daughter and platonic, if flirtatious, male-female friendships. The decision to leave aside intimate bonds between fathers and sons and also between men leads perhaps to Laurens’s being cast as a participant in a decidedly heterosexual relationship. 

As to what I believe... well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a definitive answer myself. I do think John Laurens probably was gay. He definitely was depressed and seemed to seek death, and before Hamilton he flirted with Francis Kinloch. Yes, Laurens married a woman, Martha, but it seems to have been out of duty rather than romance. Tumblr user john-laurens makes a far more detailed and convincing argument for John Laurens’ sexual orientation. As for Hamilton, of course as a gay I want to believe that one of my favourite historical figures was bisexual. I don’t want to say that he was or was not for sure, but, as “The X-Files” would say, I Want to Believe

Either way it’s fun to speculate. And hoo boy once you read some of these letters I wouldn’t be surprised if you were speculating too. Besides, just speculating doesn’t hurt anybody. I mean both guys involved are long dead, I doubt they really care what some lesbian with a blog says. It’s not like I would EVER say anything about this at the Grange while giving a tour. (Not unless someone asked me directly, I am a professional.)

Without further ado, I present to you words actually written by John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton (mostly Hamilton as he wrote more) that, to be honest, would not look out of place in a love letter.

Jazz It! Or a Night on the Town with Sarah

Bill Saxton, King of Harlem

My love for the 1920s is very well documented on this blog, and those who know me in real life know it all too well. I wore my hair in a bob for years because of a life-long flapper fascination, and my outfits for both my High School Prom and my 10-year High School Reunion were 20s-inspired looks, both complete with strings of knotted pearls. I am constantly looking for ways to infuse my daily life with a bit of that irreverent 'Anything Goes!' 1920s flair.

Luckily for me, I live in New York City, where it's not as difficult as it would be if I lived in, say, Cleveland or something. (No offense to those of you in Cleveland; I have family there which is why I picked it.) Yes, I've been to the Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governor's Island. Yes, I've been to a few speakeasy-style bars, and I even have a favourite. (The Red Room, if you're wondering. The Back Room also has a cool aesthetic - it was used in the episode of "Broad City" where Abbi's alter ego "Val" performs - but it tends to be too overcrowded, at least the times I've been.)

And a couple weeks ago, Sarah and I went to one of the most authentic jazz experiences in the whole city, up in Harlem. I have a couple other upcoming posts that touch on this a little more (one in my LGBT history series, one in more conventional listicle form) but in 20s New York City, Harlem was one of the places to be. (Greenwich Village was another place to be.) Clubs in this area from this time are iconic, legendary performers like Cab Calloway and Josephine Baker were entertaining the masses, and 133rd Street in particular had so many speakeasies that private homes on the street actually had to put signs on their doors stating that they weren't speakeasies.

Of course, it wasn't some perfect ideal. Even in Harlem, which had a primarily black population, society was deeply segregated. The Cotton Club was themed after a slave plantation (isn't that just awful) and while black people - who had invented jazz music and many of the popular 20s dances, mind you - could perform there, they could not go as club patrons. (Those of you who've seen "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" are inevitably gonna draw comparisons to the Ink and Paint Club where Jessica Rabbit performed - that allegory was intentional in that movie.) That's not an aspect of the 1920s I'm looking to bring back, I just like the fashion and the music and the overall irreverent attitude of the time.

So Sarah and I wanted to theme our night out as follows:

• Dress in jazz age inspired looks. (I would have loved to go out in full flapper dress but it was raining so I had to wear rain boots. Thus my look actually skewed more 1930s.)
• Eat at a black-owned establishment with retro inspired vibes
• Finish out our night at a real Harlem jazz establishment

These Gay WWII Soldiers Will Break Your Heart

I apologise for the clickbait-y title but as soon as I read about these two earlier this week I knew I wanted to cover them on the blog. I've been on a bit of a kick lately about proving that LGBT history didn't start with Stonewall (there are three other half-finished posts in my drafts involving LGBT figures during the American Revolution, the Regency period in England, and the 1920s) because I'm so tired of the straightwashing of history, you guys.

But I saw a post about these two men on facebook (one of those 'Did You Kno?' graphics with very little information and no sources - my sources are from BBC news and the Oswestry Town Museum) and was immediately curious enough to google everything I could in an attempt to learn more.

What I learned was that, in the notoriously homophobic 1940s, British soldiers Gilbert Bradley and Gordon Bowsher (THEY EVEN HAD THE SAME INITIALS YOU GUYS!) fell in love. I present to you all the tale (and excerpts from the letters) of Gordon and Gilbert.

Single Again

Out of respect for the other human involved, I have decided not to post any of our couple pictures. Instead have this stock photo of an emoji

The thing about a whirlwind romance is that it's nice in theory. In reality it moves way too fast and leaves pain and heartbreak in its wake.

Look, I'm almost thirty. One issue with being a lesbian in a heteronormative world is that it's very common for us to start way too late. Things that straight people get in their teens, we don't experience until our twenties, because our teen years are spent dealing with figuring out we're different and then struggling to learn not to hate ourselves when all our classmates use "that's gay" derogatorily so that we feel like we must be as awful and trashy as whatever they deem "gay".

At least, that's how my teen years were spent.

But I digress. The point of this post is to announce... I am single again. My relationship with the incredible person I met in August did not work out. And, hard as it may be to believe, I am the one that ended it, even though I didn't want to.

Happy (Belated) Birthday Alexander Hamilton

Two days ago I braved the bitter cold and a government shutdown cancelling half the events to attend the AHA Society's Hamilton Birthday celebration with my friends Nicole (who is a member of the society) and Lindsey (who I've written about before on this blog many a time because I absolutely adore her).

In honour of the man's birthday, our group of me, my friends, AHA Society members, and onlookers curious enough to join, walked a (electronic) candlelight procession up Broadway from the Alexander Hamilton Customs House (named after the man), through Bowling Green park (a park that dates back to the 1730s), to Trinity Church Cemetery to gather around his grave.

We facetimed (ah, the wonders of modern technology) a group in Nevis (the Caribbean island where Hamilton was born) and we all sang "Happy Birthday" to the grave. Then we sang "Silent Night" - because, believe it or not, that carol's debut in the English language was at Trinity Church.

Of course, the irony of me, a heathen Jew, singing a carol about baby Jesus in a church cemetery, was not lost on me. (And honestly it was a little cheesy, but in a sweet way.) Then again, Hamilton had a Jewish education in early childhood even if he himself was not Jewish, so, like... I like to think he'd appreciate the irony?

Afterwards, we headed over to Fraunces Tavern, a restaurant that existed during the Revolution, one where Hamilton ate multiple times (including a week before his death), and also one of my most favourite places in New York City. I can think of no better place to end the day's festivities, with hot cider and pub food and good friends and friendly people I had just met that day and a lot of history-based jokes and puns.

I have been pulling back from my Hamiltonian studies lately because I have actually been focusing more on other historical periods in preparation for what I hope is the next big chapter of my life. But part of me still feels some affection for the man, considering how - even though he died centuries ago - my life really did change a lot due to things he did when alive. I'm not some "marry me Alex!" fangirl, and I'm not saying he did no wrong (to some extent all of the founding fathers, Hamilton included, were petty assholes and hypocrites), but I'm still endeared by the man. Kinda like a beloved uncle who's a little backwards in some of his views but he's so charismatic and endearing that you can't help but love him? Idk, I don't have to explain myself to y'all on my own blog.

And as such, it was meaningful for me to be able to celebrate the man in this way, with other people who feel that same weird affection for him.

(Oh, and as it was cold, yes, someone did make the "Brrr"/"Burr" joke. In case you were wondering.)

So happy birthday, Hammy. See you at next year's celebration.
-Nym