It was a June afternoon and I had just gotten out of the shower. My hair was still drying, but I simply wrapped myself in a towel before my brother Tim decided to use the bathroom we shared. I quickly locked my bedroom door behind me, as I started brushing out my long brown hair. I looked at the clock, since I had a phone conversation scheduled with Mr. Henderson’s brokerage firm today and I always tried to be punctual. I picked up my phone and dialed his number. He picked up right away.
“Good afternoon, Miss Peterson,” greeted Mr. Henderson pleasantly. “How is your summer going?”
“It’s going very well. How are you?”
“Frankly, I’m stunned. I know I advised you to not go hard on Apple…but my god, it’s nearly doubled since December! I took a big risk in forwarding that transaction, and it’s astounding how well it is doing. How did you know?”
I smiled. “I was reading an article about Steve Jobs in my economics class,” I lied, “and I’ve been hearing whispers about a new system being released, and worth the announcement of the iMac last month, well, I know it's going to be a hit. They’re just so colorful.”
“I don’t think I would have even considered going through the buy for such a large amount, since it’s so reckless, if you hadn’t proven yourself. Still, if it had failed my firm would be in some serious trouble. In fact,” I heard him shift to a more neutral tone, “if Apple keeps up this trend, you’re going to have to transition to a larger firm.”
“I thought the same. But we can discuss that later. I only have a few tweaks, otherwise it’s holding positions as usual.” I relayed very few instructions I had to relay to him, which were carried out quickly. I thanked him for his time, and said I would be in touch in two weeks.
I hung up the phone, continuing to brush out my hair at my full length mirror. As I regarded my reflection, my mouth twisted into a smile as I set my brush down. Making sure my door was locked, I slipped out of the towel to look at my body in the mirror. Lately I enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror like this. Years of cheerleading gave me a toned body with a nice hourglass figure and soft, smooth skin on every inch of my body below my ears. Even my boobs were round and firm; at times having size D's were a bother, but over time I just got used to their outrageous presence on my chest. I was very pretty, if not beautiful, and I was far less shy of admitting it as I got older.
After seven years of living as a girl, it was difficult to remember what being male was like. In fact, remembering Matthew's life in general was difficult. It was a good thing I had written out so much into the Butterfly Manifesto years ago while it was still fresh in my head. There were instances when his memories would flash into my head after being triggered by something, but at moments like this when I was admiring my naked body there was a total disconnect between my life and Matthew’s life as a man.
After running my hands slowly across my skin l one last time, I stepped into my white bikini bottom as I wiggled into it. I then took my bikini top, stuffing and securing my breasts into the triangle cups, taking my time doing so. I posed a little in my swimsuit before covering myself with a light sun dress. I was heading to a pool party at a girlfriend’s house this afternoon, and my boyfriend Jake was going to be picking me up any moment. Since I was going to be a senior in the fall, this would be the last carefree summer I would have. After all, a year from now I would be an adult, and if things went according to plan I would be quite occupied. I was determined to have as much fun as I possibly could this summer.
That’s how the majority of my summer was; there were visits to the lakes, social events, and plenty of dates with Jake. It seemed like every day I was out with friends or attending a party, and I suppose that was the life of a popular high school girl. It was like that until cheerleading started in August, when Erin was naturally chosen as captain. We began in earnest to start perfecting our chants, and Erin drove us quite hard. I was one of her staunchest supporters, and it was up to me and a couple more of the girls in Erin’s inner circle to keep the ranks in line.
When my senior year started after Labor Day, I realized quite quickly how high on the social totem pole the varsity squad was especially since I was dating the star receiver on the football team. On top of that, now that I was a senior on the student council and I was president of my Investment Club I was one of the most prominent students at Northview High School. It was no shock when I was nominated for homecoming royalty, though I had to admit I felt a little embarrassed about it. From Matthew’s memories, I remembered him watching homecoming royalty events and being bored and put-off by the emphasis on school spirit, to which he had none.
As Maya however, I had been in the thick of it for years and was actively involved at school. I didn’t have the reputation that a lot of the so-called popular students had. I was still on friendly terms with students from the old Computer Club, and some of them joined the Investment Club. In addition, while I ended up hanging out with a lot of the athletes since Jake was on the basketball and football teams, my friends on the student council weren’t, so I sort of navigated both cliques effortlessly. When it came down to it, I was the antithesis of the stuck-up cheerleader type since I got along with everyone.
Our school had a morning coronation ceremony in the gymnasium the same week we had the homecoming pep rally. The six boys and six girls who were nominated all wore suits and gowns, and they walked the carpet to the stage where the king and queen were announced. Mom and I chose a shimmering red gown for the event, and she even sprung for a full makeover and hair appointment the day before. I had to wrap up my hair the night before and I barely got any sleep trying to keep from laying on my made-up hair.
I tried to play it nonchalant as we lined up to walk the carpet in front of the student body, but my stomach was full of butterflies. Sure, I told myself it wasn’t a big deal if I won – it’s not like you could put it on a college application and half the school actively disliked homecoming events anyway. I had to admit though, as I modestly walked the carpet with Jake as our respective biographies were read over the loud speaker, I wanted to win. Matthew never could have become king, but Maya had a chance at being queen!
The candidates for queen all sat arrayed on the stage, while our respective candidates for king stood behind us. The guys went first, and the way it worked was they each got a wrapped box which they opened, and if a balloon was inside, they were king. I held my breath as I watched Jake tear open his gift, and sure enough a blue balloon popped out. I think I squealed a little bit when it happened.
Next, us candidates for queen gingerly stepped forward in our respective dresses, and I couldn’t help but notice that they specifically handed me a certain box. Suffice to say, I wasn’t shocked when I tore open the paper and a white balloon flew out. I tried to play it cool, but I was a blubbering mess by the time they placed the tiara on my head and the crowd cheered. I tried not to look like an idiot when I posed with Jake, but I’m sure my eyes were red and puffy when they snapped my picture for the yearbook.
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That week flew by like a wonderful dream. It was gratifying to know I had been voted queen, and I must have thanked everyone I knew at least three times. I did insist on being referred to as “her majesty” that week in the investment club, and if I wore the tiara while we discussed short-selling, well, I could do whatever I wanted since it was my club! And don’t even get me started on the homecoming ball; Jake and I got to share the first dance, and everything was just perfect.
Well, it was perfect until the next week started and life moved on. Another week of classes, another week of clubs, and another meeting with my counselor Mrs. Donovan. She greeted me warmly as I entered her office, and congratulated me on being homecoming queen the week before.
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Donovan,” I replied cordially as I sat across from her in her office.
“Well, let’s get started then, shall we Miss Peterson? I know we discussed Chicago colleges in the spring, and I assume you still want to go in that direction?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m still going to apply to other colleges; Loyola, De Paul, UIC, just for safety schools. But I think the University of Chicago is my first choice.”
Mrs. Donovan nodded. “I think that’s a very good idea. Though, if you ask me, with your grades and your achievements at school, I think you would be an excellent candidate for the University of Chicago. It’s very impressive that you decided to start your business club, and that sort of initiative will go very well for you when applying. I’m more than happy to get the application materials together, and I believe the key part of their application package is their essay prompt.”
I tilted my head. “Essay prompt?”
“Oh, I read that the University of Chicago admissions department has unusual topics for admission essays. It’s less ‘why do you want to come to our school,’ but more like philosophical questions. I’ve even heard they may ask questions like ‘what does a paper clip, a forgotten musical instrument, and Shakespeare have in common?’ They like to see what kind of thinking their prospective candidates bring to the school.”
I placed my fingertip on my lips thoughtfully. “Well, I’m sure I can think of something interesting to say.”
***
Weeks later, among many of the application packages I started to receive, I got my University of Chicago packet. It was funny how in 1998 nothing was done digitally and you were required to submit everything by hand. Matthew hadn’t had half of the brochures that I had received, and I recalled the drudgery of filling in college applications; something I didn’t relish doing all over again. Still, I had relived middle school and high school, so I suppose it wasn’t as bad. I was curious about the essay prompt, so it was the first thing I searched for as I searched through the packet. I curled my legs underneath me on my bed as I carefully read it.
"’The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.’ – F. Scott Fitzgerald.
In an essay, argue that the next generation of societal architects must possess this capacity not merely for intellectual agility, but as a prerequisite for ethical leadership. What are the two most essential, yet contradictory, perspectives needed to solve the great challenges of the 21st century?”
It was a good thing that I had gotten a month-early head-start on my college applications, because this prompt was a real poser. There was a lot I wanted to say, especially considering that I was a person who knew the future of the upcoming 21st century. Or at least a version of it, since my mere presence has already had ripples on this timeline. Since waking up in the past, the future was always on my mind, as were the changes I had planned to make.
I thought about it for days, scribbling thoughts into my notebooks during class and in between practices. I wanted to make it profound, but not to alert anyone that I knew way more than any seventeen year-old should know. It was over a week later when I sat in front of my computer, pajama-clad with a cup of tea in hand, as I started to write my response.
True intellectual capability is not merely measured by technical proficiency; it is a critical prerequisite for ethical leadership in the coming century. The capacity to internalize and operate from opposed ideas is not just a sign of intellectual agility; it is the very foundation of foresight. The true genius of the next generation will lie in its capacity for synthesis. The two most essential, yet contradictory, perspectives needed to solve the great challenges of the 21st century are the Male Perspective and the Female Perspective. The ability to fully comprehend and internalize the mandates of both social realities creates the only reliable path to pragmatic progress.
The great failure of the single-focus mind is its assumption that its own priorities are universal. The perspective conditioned by the traditional Male Mandate is one of unburdened freedom; society grants permission to succeed by prioritizing only technical utility such as in finance or engineering, while viewing all other experience as optional. This mind is allowed to meander through life, free from the external pressure to engage with social cohesion, aesthetics, or emotional labor. This very freedom, while ideal for pure intellectual work, often breeds a profound and corrosive apathy, resulting in a failure to engage and under-actualized potential.
Conversely, the perspective conditioned by the traditional Female Mandate is one of compelled complexity. Societal expectations demand that this mind achieve competence across every axis: excelling in objective studies and mastering the subtle, subjective challenges of decoding emotion, optimizing social cohesion, and maintaining a polished presentation. This mandate grants no license for apathy. Instead, it forces the intellect into a state of universal engagement. Therefore, the highest measure of a successful mind is its will to synthesize these two opposed mandates, integrating the intellectual freedom of one perspective with the necessary, holistic competence of the other. The leader of the future must be the first person to realize that true excellence requires the relentless application of rigorous intellect to all human endeavors.
If it was a little too on the nose about my own personal experience of changing genders or my plans for altering the future, so be it. I had the unique experience of remembering a full life as a male as well as starting my life as a young woman. Perhaps it was more about my determination to “do things right” this time and less of the expectations put on me as a female, but I thought it would be an interesting essay. I went to bed that night still thinking about the rest of my essay, and after brushing my teeth I went to bed with nothing but the smooth sheets against my naked skin.
Maybe I was that perfect blend of the male and female perspectives. I certainly loved being female, but I also appreciated having the humility and focus that I inherited from Matthew. Did that make me equipped to be a leader in the next century? Could my plans and intentions for the future, written in an unassuming butterfly notebook, truly be benevolent? Would it even work in the first place? I still thought about how much I failed in Oklahoma City, despite how many times I told myself I did everything I could.
As I idly ran my finger across myself in the darkness, I knew one thing for sure. I was going to try, and I was going to enjoy the process. Things were going to be better.
