Disco Inferno
Meditations on Dante, Queerness, Catholicism, and the Party Waiting for Us on the Other Side
Satisfaction came in a chain reaction (Burnin')
I couldn't get enough, so I had to self-destruct
The heat was on, rising to the top
Everybody going strong, and that is when my spark got hot
I heard somebody say
Disco inferno
(Burn baby burn) burn that mother down y'all
Apologies for the long break between newsletters, my friends!
I realize I’ve been a little inconsistent with my monthly missive this summer. In my effort to finish edits on a certain long-term, white-whale of a project, I resolved to temporarily set aside my short form writing. But sometimes inspiration strikes, and one has no choice but to pick up the pen!
In my preparation for an Italy trip next month, I decided to pick up the only unread text by an Italian author sitting around my apartment: Dante’s Inferno.
I came into possession of this classic poem when I found it on my grandmother’s bookshelf after she passed away. Whether she or my grandfather spent time making notes in the margin I can’t be sure. Both were very religious in their day and had many books on faith. Inferno was the only one I snagged while clearing out her home, because it’s fiction rather than scripture or philosophy. I also figured the stylistic value alone would make it worth a read.
Inferno follows Dante as he is guided by Virgil through the nine circles of Hell. He is destined to make this journey for ~reasons~. Only after passing through Hell in its entirety may he go onto Purgatory and eventually Heaven where the love of his life Beatrice awaits him in the final book of Dante’s The Divine Comedy. Inferno is part one of the trilogy and arguably the most famous. Jury is out on whether this is because it features the best poetry or because we as a society can’t resist gore.
I am still only halfway through the first book, but let me begin by saying Inferno is FUN. It reads like a horror novel and has the same melodramatic tone that made Bram Stoker’s Dracula such a blast. I’ve been learning all the gossip about who brought disgrace to their families in 1200s Florence. Dante has a habit of throwing everyone he’s ever feuded with in a different circle of hell and comes up with especially creative punishments. I admittedly have not been approaching Inferno with reverence these past few weeks. How can you expect me to be serious when people are getting stung by wasps so that pus and blood can drip from their wounds to feed a bed of maggots for all eternity?
I’m sorry, but if you’re not treating it like a Stephen King novel, you’re doing it wrong!
Two central themes of the writing project that’s been keeping me away from you are queerness and Catholicism. They’re both thorny parts of my identity that I’ve embraced or denied at various moments in my life. For the purpose of this conversation let me clarify that I am currently choosing to identify with both of them. I’ve gone on the self-discovery journey, done online quizzes in middle school, been attracted to women, and am absolutely positive I am queer. I am also, for better or worse, a sporadically practicing Catholic.
Throughout my read of Inferno, I’ve eagerly awaited the section on Sodomites,1 who are stuck among those that have “sinned against nature” in Circle Seven.
My first introduction to Inferno was watching Ben De La Creme’s “Inferno A-Go-Go” in 2016 at the Laurie Beechman Theater. This cabaret drag show followed Ben De La Creme as she retraced and mocked Dante’s journey through each circle. It was a fabulous show and fitting introduction. I’ve never forgotten her vision of the Sodomites’ section2 as a bunch of gay guys clubbing at the beach. Having finally reached Canto XIV of Inferno, let me say this description is entirely accurate.
When Dante first sees the Sodomites, he describes them in passing by saying, “Here I saw many herds of naked souls… some of them were moving round and round.” Naked souls in constant motion on “compacted sand” sounds like a slutty summer dance party to me. I pictured these folks partying it up to “Disco Inferno” and grinding on each other for all eternity.
Satisfied with this image, I set my book down thinking that was all the description I would get. I moved on with my day, not giving Dante’s estimation of the queer afterlife much thought. Only later once I moved onto the next Canto did I realize what I’d missed.
In Canto XV, one of these Sodomites recognizes Dante. This man, Brunetto Latini, is a Florentine writer who was Dante’s close friend and mentor in life. Dante and Brunetto are delighted to see each other. Since Brunetto cannot stop moving, the pair walk together along the sand discussing Dante’s destiny and the legacy of Brunetto’s writing on earth. According to my 700th anniversary edition, translated by J.G. Nichols, Dante tells Brunetto:
“If all my prayers were answered utterly… ...you would not yet Have been excluded from humanity; For still I have in mind, to my great pain The dear kindly, the paternal image Of you who in the world, time and again Taught me how a man becomes eternal: while There is breath in me, my gratitude for that Is something that my language must reveal.”
Eventually, Brunetto must rejoin his group of sinners, but before the Canto ends, Dante watches him depart and comments,
“Then he turned round, and looked like one of those Who race to win the green cloth at Verona, Across the fields; and looked, among all these, Most like the winning, not the losing, runner.”
Now… I write to you at twenty-four years old feeling like I’ve got a pretty good handle on existing with both my queer and Catholic identities as well as the fraught ways they sometimes intersect. I was prepared to see my community sentenced to eternal damnation. As I’ve said, my reading of Inferno had been thus far deeply unserious. I know some people believe that homosexuality is a sin, but to me that idea is completely ludicrous. I see no reason why their views or Dante’s should have any bearing on the way I see my life (or afterlife).
And yet… upon reading this passage I felt wounded. I was prepared for fire, whips, and bodies pulled apart limb from limb. But tenderness? Friendship? Triumph?
To understand the significance Dante’s reaction to Brunetto, we must look to Dante’s treatment of others in hell. A lot of Inferno is fire and brimstone, but there’s a few key places where his empathy gets the better of him.
In Canto III when Dante enters the gates of hell, he is told to steel himself for the horrors ahead. Virgil chastises Dante for offering too much sympathy early in his journey. The footnote for this chapter in my grandparents’ text, as translated by John Ciardi,3 states, “As he [Dante] descends, pity leaves him and he even goes so far as to add to the torments of one sinner. The allegory is clear: we must harden ourselves against every sympathy for sin.”
The objectively best place to be stuck in Hell is the first circle, also known as Limbo. Limbo is meant for unbaptized babies and those who didn’t have the option to know God, since they were alive before the establishment of the Church. Members include all the great thinkers of Ancient Greece and Rome who worshiped multiple (false) deities. The description of Aristotle’s hang out in Limbo is so incredible that Dante is awestruck by it. It’s obvious why Dante carves out this safe space for Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, and Virgil. No one wants to see the man who created Rome’s most iconic historical epic fed on by harpies.
After these figures, the sodomites have the best fate by far. Yes, they’re in constant motion, but that’s small potatoes compared to the wasps and maggots and drowning in a boiling river of blood.
Dante greets his old friend with more tenderness than any other figure he encounters in hell. One of the most famous snippets of Inferno is Dante’s romantic description of the “lustful” in Canto V. He is so moved by the story of star-crossed lovers Paolo and Franchesca4 that he faints after hearing their story. The lovers are swept to and fro by the winds of their passion, but their fate is designated as pitiful and tragic. Dante explicitly states they cannot enjoy their eternity together because they are so overcome by their guilt. He certainly doesn’t see them as victors by any sense of the word.
In my scholarly reading on the subject, I found no definitive take as to why Dante takes this approach with the Sodomites. Various authors pointed out that homosexual figures also appear and are treated with respect in Purgatory. Some have even argued the presence of homosocial tension between Dante and Virgil. Plenty of debate exists about whether Dante intended to punish the act of sodomy rather than homosexuality itself, but this feels like splitting hairs to me.
It’d be easier if it were something callous. Something dated, homophobic, and ridiculous that I could shrug off and move on from. Dante’s care toward the queer community feels like a bittersweet consolation prize. Scraps from the feast of heaven that none of us can ever reach. Inferno may not be a theological text, but it does hold an important cultural relevance in our view of Catholic ideology. No one remembers how queer people are treated in Dante’s hell, only the fact that we’re there.
Usually, I relish queer representation in classic literature - everything from Sappho to the lesbian couple in The Count of Monte Cristo. Still, I cannot bring myself to celebrate Dante’s merciful attitude towards a queer friend. I feel it’d be an admission of guilt. Reading the text picked at a scab I like to forget I have. A thirteen-year-old girl’s righteous anger at the church. The feeling that I was accepted by the religious institution I grew up in… but only up to a point. Even now in 2024, as the church, the pope, and many religious individuals inch forward in support of the queer community, they withhold complete acceptance as soon as it doesn’t suit them.5
These days, being queer feels inherent to me. I can analyze and dissect it, but it’s part of myself that I love. I couldn’t change if I wanted to. And why would I want to? It’s joyful. It’s brought so many great things into my life, and the community is one I’m easily proud6 to be a part of.
On the contrary, it takes so much work to continue being a Catholic.
There are endless negotiations and critiques. Historical horrors to make peace with and present-day politicians propping up the religion to strip away human rights. At times, it’s embarrassing. Now that I’m an adult, six years out of high school, it’s my choice to stick with it. No one’s thrusting it upon me. The exit is there any time I’ve had enough. Catholicism is a faith-based religion, meaning you must continually choose to have faith to be a member. Dante specifies in Inferno, everyone in hell has chosen to be there. I found the line so fascinating and noted it as part of Catholicism’s core theology in the margin.
The concept that anyone no matter their sins can be granted salvation is as captivating and paradoxical an idea as that of an all-powerful, all-knowing, and always benevolent God. Early in life, I was taught to seek out religion for answers. As I age and return to these ideas on my own terms, I find there are only more questions.
I think the questions are why I keep coming back all. I feed on them in my writing from a scholarly perspective and a personal one. As long as there’s space to interpret, reinterpret, and discover a new angle, I believe there’s something to be gained from letting religion into my life. The room for interpretation allows me to hope that I might one day make peace with it all. In spite of the clashes, disappointments, and shortcomings, I still hold out foolish hope the religious identity that will forever be a part of my past can find a place in my future.
Oh, Catholicism. I wish I knew how to quit you. <3 7
A Few Recommendations for This Era:
“Disco Inferno” by The Trammps
Dante’s Inferno
Saved (2004)
The West Wing Season 2 Episode 22 “Two Cathedrals”
“Disco Inferno” as sung by Tina Turner
Ken Russell’s The Devils (1971)
A visit to Sagrada Familia in Barcelona
The End of the Affair by Graham Greene
The Prince of Egypt (1998)
The Christmas Tree and Neapolitan Nativity Scene at the Met
I am using the word “sodomites” even though technically it could refer to anyone engaging in oral or anal sex because that is Dante’s preferred term. Though the topic has been debated, the clear implication of the text is that Dante is referring to gay men. There are hardly any women encountered in Inferno outside of those who’ve sinned within romantic relationships with men. Therefore, I don’t know where all the lesbians are meant to end up. I’m choosing to believe they’re also in the desert!
The Sodomites do not have their own circle. They share it with the lesser murderers and the suicide forest. (That sentence is hilarious but it’s true).
I’ve tragically had to throw out this book after getting caught in the rain with it. It started growing mold like it was a prop on The Last of Us.
Who were murdered by Franchesca’s jealous husband who ALSO happens to be Paolo’s brother.
Earlier this year I wrote about “Dignitas Infinita,” which was recently released by the Vatican. In it, the church doubles down on a limited transphobic idea of gender expression.
hahaha - But yes, I actually am.
