Queering African Heritage this Africa Day

African history can be a very dangerous thing, especially when reading with an exclusionary worldview. Culture, by extension, as an historical and contemporary asset to nations, can also be a valorizing thing when approached with an exclusionary mindset.

When one thinks of the things that make up African history and culture, they might be seduced to only hear or see or feel or understand them from the perspective of those who had the hands to draw, write, carve, or weave them; the voices to speak them, or the fellowship to have others do these things on their behalf.

Think of the pyramids of Egypt, the lambas of Madagascar, the Iya in Nigeria, the Chongoni rock art in Malawi, or the chorus of women who received Ruth Khama with song in Serowe.

All these creations and happenings have been chronicled in one way or another. Some preserving themselves against the odds of collective amnesia for generations of Africans to inherit and learn about the societies of the times they took place in. These are all moments of art, culture, and tradition in practice.

What then might not strike the contemporary learner of these artistic, cultural and traditional histories of Africa as strange is that there seems to only be mention of the heterosexual members of the societies.

While the people didn’t define themselves as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) or otherwise, the indubitable truth is that non-heterosexual ancestors exist. The existence of these non-heterosexual ancestors (whom I shall refer to as ‘Queer’ for ease) means that they too have shaped African history, art, culture and traditions.

So, as the African Union theme for Africa Day 2021 (May 25th) is: “Arts, Culture and Heritage: Levers for Building the Africa we Want”, I am pressed to challenge us to consider that these levers and the ‘we’ in question are not devoid of Queer representation, commemoration and celebration.

States and citizens of these states have a responsibility to keep (and in most cases make) their collective artistic, cultural, and traditional histories as inclusive as possible.

Africa, and the imaginary of Africa, has been slowly distilled and conflated into a palatable broth through colonialist history telling, and post-independence myth making. This broth, while still possessing the properties if an apothecary’s elixir, has been fed from generation to generation, diluted with each pass, to the point where Africa’s Queer ancestry has been forgotten.

In the case of Botswana, our historic preservation has been a parallel practice. The dual existence of oral histories and those that have been scribed means that a selective editorial exclusion can be made at any point in time.

What is required for reparations to be done is for the custodians of these histories to be given the space to tell each of their versions and a public debate to be using comparative analysis.

It should not be about defining Botswana’s artistic, cultural or traditional histories based on feelings and opinions, but on fact. This will be the only way that we can leverage the power of our uniqueness.

Botswana’s Queer ancestry too needs redress. This might include tracing within each of our familiar histories and submitting our findings to a central bank of memory.

Some might call this breaking skeletons out of the closet, however, worshipping that proverbial closet is what hinders our diversified growth. Shame is like a ship’s anchor that has been cast – it pulls you down and keeps you from moving into the greater seas of life.

For too long, generations of Africans have been whipped, beaten, and shamed into denying existence of our Queer histories and the contributions made to our cultures and traditions by our Queer ancestors; yet I believe that this Africa day is an opportunity to shed that weight.

When Botswana decriminalized consensual same-sex sexual activity in June 2019, this was the court’s contribution to allowing some of the shame we bear to be shed.

This ruling, however, does not mark the start of the making of Queer history in Botswana, and to believe otherwise is to delude oneself. Batswana have raised their children on a diet of Brenda Fassie’s music for decades, and to this day she is a beloved voice from Africa.

Brenda’s Queer identity is never brought into the celebration of her talent, but it cannot be denied either. This Africa day, as we celebrate our arts, culture and heritage and the potential they present for crafting the Africa we want, may we pay homage to our Queer ancestry too for getting us this far.