third gender: from spirits + History
For as long as I can remember, gender has felt ambiguous within this body. As a child I learned — from a book about bones — how the Biblical story of Adam and Eve has led some to believe that males have one fewer rib than females (on account of Eve being made from one of Adam’s ribs). This fascinated me, so I would lie awake at night trying to count my ribs to find out if I was a boy or a girl — surely the skeleton cannot lie, I thought. Invariably I always lost count, left frustrated that I would never know the truth of my gender. Beyond my own questioning, others have inquired about my gender since birth. From an ambiguous birth name to androgynous features, being asked “are you a boy or a girl?” began long before I even knew about gender variance and what it is to be transgender or third gender.
‘The Sacrifice’ 2023, digital - an ancestor makes a sacrifice of blood and virility to The Great Mother.
As I’ve told in Spirits We Are, I identify as part of a collective being: the product of trauma and a thread connected to our ancestors. This experience of multiplicity and ancestral connection has everything to do with our shared and individual relationships to gender and the body. As we’ve begun the process of healing within, I’ve simultaneously been on a journey to rediscover the queer history of my ancestors. My twin spirit has been my primary guide on this exploration, as they are the one tied to our ancestors most deeply. They expressed clearly our ancestral connection to persons with male genitalia who would partially or fully castrate themselves, whip their bodies to bleed, dancing ecstatically to tambourines and the clashing of knives. In time, I was able to uncover a name for these people: the Galli.
The Galli were just one of several spiritually connected gender variant peoples in the ancient Mediterranean world. Throughout the region male, female, and intersex bodied people (male-bodied being most written about) would take on the role of the opposite sex or a third gender for cultural and spiritual purposes. Only a few of these variant identities continue to exist in some form today, many having been erased with the expansion of Abrahamic religions. The Feminnielli of Naples, Italy is one such identity which traces their origins back to the Galli and the cult of Cybele.
Discovering that my ancestors have an ancient heritage of gender variance felt like opening a door I had been unable to see, but knew must exist. It was an even greater feeling of comfort to see my experience of gender reflected in people living today in the land of my ancestors — a rare vestige of an ancient cultural gender identity. Although my body’s ancestry and our ancestral connections do come, in part, from Southern Italy — because I am third generation, raised in the United States, I feel it is not my place to claim a cultural identity as Feminniello. Instead I claim an identity of third gender, as this reflects a generic cultural gender identity, something more specific than non-binary or gender variant. The cultural piece — though diasporic — is significant for me and for us as a collective. For us, gender has ceased to be an individual matter — it’s connected to ancestral spirits and to the very fabric of our spiritual beliefs. It is not so much a personal desire to be between as it is a duty to our ancestors. This life does not belong to one person. This life begs to remember for our descendants what our ancestors were forced to forget.
This month is LGBTQ+ Pride Month in the US and in sharing this I wish to express a sort of pride for a gender experience that isn’t often mentioned in the European-American cultures. Our collective roots have been cut so long ago that many have forgotten the tap root we all once shared, now that we are left with thin fibers tangled at the surface. But some of us are compelled to dive deep into the soil, to recover the withered remains of that deep wellspring of culture that recognized (imperfectly) the varied genders of humanity within Europe. Perhaps, if enough of us can twine our roots together, regrowth and renewal can come forth; opening the way for healing within and between cultures. Perhaps, in reviving our queer ancestors we can provide foundations for our queer descendants to grow upon. For this some of us must find our genders in the past — digging in the dark recesses to recover the blood an bone — while others must find them in the present or future. Many strands wound together become stronger than a single thread can ever be.
Can you imagine my excitement, then, to learn about a documentary on self-discovery and the Feminniello called Summer Within? Here is another descendant from Southern Italy, also raised in the United States, who is seeking connection to their queer ancestors and modern people whose gender exists between. Once again I felt a sense of reflection and relation. Though our paths and stories are vastly different, we share a commonality; we walk parallel to each other on the margins.
The digging into the deep recesses has felt like my/our path. As we explore our ancestral connections to spirit and gender, the distinction between “self” and “other” becomes increasingly blurred. To be trans and third gender in this life is not just about a desire to be a singular “me” — it is about being someone my great-great-great-great grandmother could not be. It’s about healing the misogyny of many generations of grandfathers. It’s about reviving ancient ways that my blood and bone hold memories of. It’s a way to honor the mother-fathers of the deep past where words no longer hold meaning. It’s about living for those who came before us and those who will come after us. It’s about the thread that ties us to the spirits of our ancestors and the old gods the once called by name. It’s about honoring this life as a gift, even when that gift is named a curse by the society we live in.
What more can we do — those of us who are queer by label or identity — than exist, live, breathe, love, and sing as we are. So that we may reflect in each other’s eyes and feel a sense of momentary belonging. There are some of us who must be seen in order to speak to the hidden ones, “you are never alone”. With such variety of human experience — of gendered experience — there must be such a kaleidoscope of bodies existing in the glorious light of day and glistening in full moon light.