In Naples, there is a unique tradition that doesn’t quite fit into typical Western categories of gender or sexuality – the “femminiello.” This term refers to a man who expresses himself with feminine mannerisms, gestures, and speech, yet carries a long history of acceptance and respect rooted in local folklore and belief. The femminiello embodies a social identity that transcends labels, existing somewhere between male and female, natural and sacred.
Historically, the femminiello has been woven into the fabric of Neapolitan life – from religious rites to street games, communal rituals to gatherings in the city’s alleys. Their presence connects to ancient traditions, with some tracing its roots to pagan myths of dual-gender or intersex beings. These beings were thought to carry a special power due to their combination of masculine and feminine energies, and such ambiguity bestowed upon the femminielli a peculiar kind of reverence in a city that has always embraced contradictions. The femminiello was never an outcast – he was an integral part of the community.
In working-class neighborhoods, a femminiello might be greeted with familiarity, teasing, or gentle mockery – but rarely scorn. Often regarded as lucky, they were sometimes asked to hold newborn babies, believed to invite good fortune into the child’s life. During social gatherings, femminielli were entrusted with calling the numbers during tombola (a bingo-style game), adding humor, innuendo, and drama to make the game more lively, turning it into an occasion of shared intimacy.
Beyond games and superstitions, femminielli played an important role in local festivities. On February 2 – the day of the Candelora – many would go on a pilgrimage to the Santuario di Montevergine as part of the Juta dei Femminielli. The procession combined popular faith and ancient rituals, carrying forward memories of old pagan practices integrated with Christian devotion. This ritual, filled with dance, music, and exuberance, is a vivid example of the deep-rooted presence of the femminiello in Neapolitan culture.
Another ritual connected to the femminielli was the “figliata,” a mock childbirth ceremony in which a femminiello, draped behind a veil, simulated giving birth – a practice intended to ward off evil and bring luck. In some towns around Naples, particularly near the Vesuvian area, there was also a symbolic “wedding” during Easter, with femminielli parading in wedding attire, accompanied by music, dancing, and festive meals. These rituals turned social norms on their head, subverting expectations while celebrating difference.
The role of femminielli became even more significant during the Four Days of Naples (Le Quattro Giornate), a period of resistance against Nazi forces during World War II. In September 1943, as German troops retreated, Neapolitans rose up in a historic uprising. In this time of intense turmoil, femminielli were seen as symbols of resilience. Many participated in the insurrection, contributing to the resistance alongside ordinary citizens. In a city where defiance and survival were ingrained in its people, femminielli were not bystanders – they actively fought to reclaim their city.
Their involvement went beyond logistical support, as femminielli helped maintain morale during the uprising. In a time of fear and uncertainty, their participation represented a refusal to remain invisible and a statement of solidarity with the oppressed. Fighting side by side with other Neapolitans, they played an essential role in the liberation of Naples from Nazi forces. The femminielli’s actions during the Four Days highlight how marginalized communities can make significant contributions during moments of national crisis.
The story of the femminiello is not static. Over the decades, especially from the mid-20th century onward, massive social changes transformed neighborhoods, customs, and the rhythms of popular life. The tight-knit quarters, the “bassi” (ground-floor housing) where long-standing communal rituals unfolded, began to dissolve under pressure from urban development, economic hardship, and changing social attitudes. With new generations and the rise of different identity categories, many of the traditional meanings shifted or faded.
Still, the femminiello persists – sometimes reinvented, sometimes quietly tucked away, sometimes re-emerging with renewed sense and purpose. Some became part of the queer community, while others remained rooted in traditional Neapolitan identity. The story of one prominent figure – a woman who called herself “the last femminiello of Naples” – illustrates both the fragility and resilience of the identity. She survived ostracism, marginalization, and post-war struggles but continued to claim her space and dignity.
The legacy of the femminiello bridges past and present, demonstrating Naples’ capacity for inclusion, fluidity, and complexity. He embodied cultural tolerance long before modern discussions on gender identity, giving voice to lives that didn’t fit strict binaries. Whether through tombola nights, mock childbirth ceremonies, Easter weddings, or pilgrimages to Montevergine, the rituals surrounding femminielli once turned social differences into communal celebrations – making visible what might otherwise have been hidden.
Today, with renewed interest in queer history and local identities, the femminiello remains a living symbol of Naples: unpredictable, vibrant, and full of humanity.
