My Femminiello Wedding Story

a slice of Neapolitan life as a femminiello born in America

When I got back to the States last April, I had just spent nearly three months in Napoli after not having been there since before COVID. Over those three years that I was away, I had finished Summer Within and also was awaiting the release of Italian Trans Geographies, a book I co-edited with Danila Cannamela and Marzia Mauriello with SUNY Press. I participated in this project because when I began my journey of discovering my ancient queer blood ancestors in 2016, there were no resources available yet in English to those of us who wanted to learn more about the third gender tradition of Naples. And when I was approached by Danila to collaborate on Italian Trans Geographies, I knew this was an opportunity to pay forward the valuable information that I had found and share it. Since then, though, I have deepened my connection to femminiello culture in Naples, because instead of just reading or spectating, I was a full participant.

I knew that I wanted to write another book about my experiences with the femminielli and my deepening relationship with my Neapolitan ancestors, and in order to do that, my research needed to deepen as well. I had heard about a writing spell that you can do to attract a specific outcome: by writing a journal entry as if the thing you are desiring actually happened. So I wrote a journal entry about being a femminiello bride. And then this happened… (an excerpt from a collection of essays)

After being in Napoli this time around for nearly 3 months, Angelo had become my best friend and my lover. I shared everything with him - he had become my main source of intimacy and love. About a month prior to this “wedding day” an acquaintance of his saw us strolling arm and arm down the Main Street of the historical center of Napoli giddy from our collaboration. This friend stopped us to give us hugs, kisses, and news.

He spoke in a mixture of Italian and Neapolitan dialect, which I understand little of, even though I grew up listening to my grandmother speak it. Ciccio explained that he was looking for a gay couple to participate in the spusalizio, or a traditional farcical wedding featuring a bride, played by a feminine male known as a femminiello, and her groom, another male. The wedding would resemble a real traditional wedding, with a horse and carriage, and vows, and rings, and an elaborate proposal called the serenata. As Ciccio spoke excitedly about his idea, eyes mainly on Angelo, I watched undulations of excitement, then doubt, then fear sweep across Angelo’s face. He had concerns about the logistics. Would this guy Ciccio really be able to pull this together on his own, or would we need to contribute a lot? Angelo also had been married before, legally, and had his own emotions coming up around that. I had been stunned from the sheer serendipity of this, and had gotten lost in my own world of imagination. I was speaking and understanding fluent Italian at this point, but Ciccio’s Neapolitan required a lot more of my focus to be able to truly follow everything being said. After the two men tossed and turned around these points for a while, they both turned to look at me. “Che dici, Summer? What do you say?” All I could say was si.

When I started researching the femminielli lineage six years ago, it was because I happened to be visiting southern Italy on a tour of sacred sites of the Black Madonna. Seeing my natural femininity expressed through my male body, several Neapolitan men and women there expressed their attraction to my androgyny. A word that I heard myself being called in different spaces was “femmenell’” or, little woman/man. The collective desire and acceptance that I received from this world had brought me deeper and deeper into the research of the customs and history of this iconic figure of southern Italian identity and culture, the same culture that my maternal grandmother, my Nonna, had emigrated from in the 1950s.

I had learned about the spusalizio wedding ritual from watching YouTube videos of femminielli getting fake married, with all the “girls” dressed as different wedding archetypes: the over excited mother of the bride, the slutty cousin, the priest, all campy as fuck, and hilarious. So campy and theatrical that, sure, on the surface, if you’re not paying too much attention, you might be able to suspend disbelief that these weddings were real. But, if one was to stick around long enough, they would see that the bride has a deep voice and the shadow of a beard, and she’s carrying on in true absurdist fashion. The tradition comes from a performance related to La Canzone di Zeza, a Commedia dell’Arte classic from the 17th century, and made its way to the vicoli of Napoli as a way to make local femminielli feel welcome and a more integrated part of the heavily Catholic culture which placed high emphasis on the sacrament of marriage and breeding more Catholics. Femminielli, being into only men, would never be brides for the church, but they could pretend.

I had known all of this information for years that night on the street that I said yes to being ‘a sposa (the bride). It was the equivalent of being asked to be the lead in my favorite musical, except the plot was being rewritten by me! There was something different though in my “fake” wedding: I was actually in love. 

I will be offering a hybrid in-person and virtual lecture/practice in January. If you have any interest at all, RSVP here and stay tuned for coming deets! In the meantime, enjoy these amazing videos from my proposal and wedding in Napoli.

Stay engaged <3

With love, con amore,

Summer