theoryofqueer

[theoryofqueer]

Not Mexican Enough (The In-Between)

“I mean, my dad’s parents were born in Mexico. They live in a small little house in East LA and they speak no English and own a little restaurant. It’s like my mom and dad created a whole new world for themselves. I live in their new world. But they understand the old world, the world they came from—and I don’t. I don’t belong anywhere. That’s the problem.” — Dante Quintana

This quote hits harder than any other quote should. Dante isn’t confused about his identity, he knows exactly who he is but he’s suffocating in the gap between what he’s told he is and what he feels like he can claim. It's honest, raw and a bit gut-wrenching, especially if you live or even relate to that feeling of, "I know but am I allowed?"

That tension—the feeling of floating between spaces—is something Gloria Anzaldúa writes about as nepantla, the in-between space where you don’t fully belong to any one world. You’re stuck in translation: culturally, linguistically, emotionally. And for queer people of color, that feeling is doubled. You’re not just trying to navigate ethnicity—you’re navigating queerness inside that identity.

Dante doesn’t speak Spanish. He doesn’t relate to his Mexican grandparents. His parents made a new life, but he doesn’t know how to live in either one, his world and the one with his grandparents. It’s not that Dante isn’t Mexican. It’s that he’s something more complicated—something untranslatable.

That complexity isn’t a flaw. It’s the whole point of this book. It doesn’t flatten identity—it lets it be layered, contradictory, and painfully real. Identity isn't a stereotype but it sure is hard to tell if one should fit in the box or not.

[theoryofqueer]

Tenderness is a Political Act

“I got to thinking that poems were like people. Some people you got right off the bat. Some people you just didn’t get—and never would get.” — Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

Dante kisses Ari. It’s soft, it’s awkward but it means everything. Ari doesn't respond back to the kiss with affection but he doesn't explode in anger either, he denies what it does to him but it changes him nonetheless.

This is a story where that tenderness is revolutionary.

Dante’s queerness is soft from the start. He cries, loves his parents, writes poetry, draws birds and admits when he’s hurt. These aren’t just character quirks either—they’re acts of courage in a world that often tells boys, especially queer boys, to be silent, guarded or even hard. (maybe a little like Ari is)

But Dante exists unapologetically.

José Esteban Muñoz writes that queerness is about reaching toward a future that doesn’t exist yet—a horizon. Dante is that horizon that Muñoz was speaking of. Dante doesn’t just express queerness—he embodies the hope, the future, that queerness can exist openly, without fear.

Ari, on the other hand, is still performing for safety—through silence, distance, anger. His refusal to reciprocate Dante’s tenderness at first isn’t just fear; it’s a reaction to everything he’s felt that a boy like him is allowed to be, his way of also protecting himself from feelings or being different. Self-preservation.

So when Ari finally, and unabashedly, does open up—when he protects Dante and when he allows himself to love him—that act is powerful but not because it’s loud, because it’s soft and it's tender.

Tenderness isn’t weakness, this book manages to make it a form of resistance against what is expected or pushed on.

[theoryofqueer]

The Art of Not Saying it

"And it seemed to me that Dante's face was a map of the world. A world without any darkness." - Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

Ari's emotions spilling out like a faucet in internal thought, is one of my favorite things about this quote.

Ari doesn't talk much, especially about his feelings and prefers to keep quiet - Talk about his brother? no. Talk about his internal struggles? no. His build up of feelings when he looks at Dante? no. But the silence he holds isn't “teenage boy having attitude” - it's a form of self-preservation.

In Aristotle and Dante, this silence from Ari is his protection against vulnerability, queerness, and the idea that if he speaks he won't be a "real" man - or a “real” Mexican-American man. This overwhelming silence from Ari is his own language: built up by shame, cultural expectation, and a version of masculinity where softness equals weakness.

I’m reminded of Judith Butler’s work on identity and gender performativity. We’re all performing repeated acts based on social norms. Ari’s performance is silence, denial and even stoicism that he, himself, doesn’t even know he’s doing. Until Dante. Dante comes into his life and is open, emotions and all - love, art and pain - and it gives Ari the realization that there’s another way to live, another world outside his own where he doesn’t have to feel repressed or have to keep silent.

Again, that quote where Ari is spilling out, is a moment where he lets himself feel something without trying to hide it, even if he can’t say it out loud. Queerness spills even through repression.

Aristotle’s journey isn’t about falling in love with Dante - it’s about learning and realizing that he doesn’t have to be silent anymore.