From a ‘living saint’ accused of having sex with a priest and a nun in the 1700s, to a transgender performer who had her baptismal records altered by the Catholic Church in the 1970s, long before the legal right to change gender was possible.

These are among the stories that explore Malta’s attitude towards the LGBTIQ+ community in the first book of its kind.

Breaking the Silence – Homosexuality in Maltese History is considered important not only because it traces evolving patterns of same-sex desire in a small island-state, but especially because in doing so, it provides a “study of the mores of Maltese society, past and present, from an unorthodox standpoint”, said Konrad Buhagiar.

He edited the book, a project by Allied Rainbow Communities aimed at general readers and academics, together with James Licari.

In it, traditional and novel views on sex and gender serve as a “springboard to an understanding of the complexity of the Maltese mindset”, Buhagiar continued.

“From fear of the outsider to tolerance of diversity; from the comfort of tradition to the seduction of innovation; from pagan feasting to religious fervour,” he said the book provided, “from the vantage point of homosexuality, an intriguing insight into the ambivalent worldview of the Maltese”.

Speaking of the importance of a debut publication on homosexuality in history, Buhagiar acknowledged that in most cultures, the clandestine and closeted nature of same-sex encounters and bonding has left little or no trace behind.

“Hard as one tries to discover and document the presence of homosexual love in history, one invariably comes up against an impenetrable wall of silence,” he pointed out.

But Breaking the Silence contains exhaustive research by Giovanni Bonello, as well as little nuggets of gossip about amorous adventures, or illicit sex, many of them recorded confessions from the archives of the Inquisition.

The book moves from Neolithic representations of non-binary bodies to the opening of the first gay party venue in Xemxija.

Composed of a series of essays by different authors – from historians to archaeologists to anthropologists – the book also puts in the limelight those “invisible characters” who inhabited the margins for centuries, irrespective of their position in society.

Although most of the essays are in-depth studies of the phenomenon of homosexuality in the context of a Maltese society, they also provided glimpses of unorthodox tales.

The story of a pioneering transgender

Licari’s story of pioneering transgender Brigitte Bond is “exceptionally fascinating”, according to Buhagiar.

It is the “irresistible” story of a young, timid boy from Sliema, hitting a cultural whirlwind upon reaching the metropolis.

Bond was a symbol of the overlap of two contrasting worlds: “isolated, ultra-Catholic, homophobic Malta immediately before independence, the conservative episcopate of Michael Gonzi and his efforts to come abreast with the developments advocated by Vatican Council II on the one hand,” Buhagiar explained.

“And, on the other hand, the swinging sixties in Soho, where Brigitte performed, ska music and the miniskirt, the invention of the pill and sexual revolution and the first gender reassignment operations performed by Dr Burou in Casablanca.”

Bond started life as John, nicknamed ‘is-Sissy’ on account of his effeminate ways. The minute he could leave, the transgender performer made her presence felt on London’s music scene of the 1960s, where her persona was born.

An intriguing insight into the ambivalent worldview of the Maltese

It was thanks to a photographed iconic dance move with Jamaican singer-songwriter Prince Buster that Bond caught the attention of the world in 1964, earning her the title of the ‘Queen of Bluebeat’.

In 1974 ‒ decades before the legal right to change gender was possible in Malta after 2015 ‒ the Curia changed her baptismal certificate and records from male to female, leaving Brigitte, who later married an Italian man, proud of the part she played in this milestone of the history of sexuality in Malta.

A saint, a nun and a priest

Much earlier in history are stories that were scarcely recorded, or incompletely handed down from generation to generation, or simply documented drily and succinctly in criminal records or proceedings of the Inquisition tribunal.

Bonello describes how, in 1744, Deli Manset, a slave working at the Order’s bakery, made overt advances to a young clerk, Alessio Lauron. On being rejected, Manset brandished a knife. He was hanged publicly that very day, by direct order, without trial.

In 1702, 31-year-old Anna Zammit from Żebbuġ, who enjoyed a reputation of a living saint, ended up in front of the Inquisitor’s tribunal accused of a bisexual relationship with the priest Don Bartolomeo Bonnici and with his sister, the nun Suor Rosaria.

“Zammit was charged with having intimacy with both, together and separately, caressing, masturbating and touching the intimate parts of her body with those of Don Bartolomeo and with Rosaria. Anna justified herself that those threesomes would free them from the evil passion of lust.

“Suor Rosaria, on her part, said she had such unshakeable faith in Anna’s sanctity that it did not occur to her that they were doing anything sinful,” Bonello writes.

The Inquisition had to deal with another case of lesbian ardour in 1755. Anna Vassallo from Balzan was concurrently having sex with three unmarried women, Catarina ta’ Navarina, from Valletta, Vittoria, daughter of Giuseppe ta’ Misbalna, also from Balzan, and Maria known as ta’ Ittruscia.

She had been told that such ‘dishonest touchings’ were not sinful and so saw no reason to stop her same-sex practices.

‘Good old days of the ghettos’

The book tackles the haunts that gave queer identities a safe place in post-war Malta, namely in Valletta’s Strait Street and Floriana’s Balzunetta.

Author Joseph Chetcuti, in his chapter on ‘The Wasteland: Homosexuals in Malta during the 1970s and 1980s’, mentions how the withdrawal of the British Navy left the bars in these areas bereft of their habitual clientele, causing them to close and leaving queer performers without a home.

“The good old days of the ghettos were fast disappearing. The servicemen were gone. The cabarets, bars, brothels and restaurants lost their best patrons” and as the sites that had offered shelter and some anonymity faded, foreign drag artists looked to greener pastures for work.

A milestone for the LGBTIQ+ community?

The book also describes the ongoing struggle of the LGBTIQ+ community to achieve recognition against the backdrop of an island-nation succumbing to rapid changes on every front, whether social, economic, cultural or environmental.

“LGBTIQ+ rights, though hard-won, often feel insecurely built on shifting sands, vulnerable to erosion by the currents of political change and societal attitudes,” Buhagiar said.

Especially in these times where political sympathies in Europe swing ever more towards the far right, vigilance against the tide of regression is of the essence, Buhagiar warned.

“We should learn from what history has taught us: that by celebrating diversity and fostering open conversations, societies can continue to dismantle discriminatory structures and create spaces where all individuals can live an authentic life.

“It is not hard or difficult to be different. Only people make it so.”