FIGHTING TO SEE THROUGH DARKNESS.
Nigeria. Religion. Murder.
Some like the darkness and some like the light. In the dark, nothing is noticed. You have no idea where you’re heading. In the light, everything is clear. You see your future right in front of you. I’m one of those who prefer the light, but I don’t blame others who choose the darkness. They find safety hiding from everyone’s gaze that they forfeit the ability to aim for greater things because, let’s face it, there’s only so much you can see in the dark.
Many Nigerians grow up being draed to church every Sunday or a mosque every Friday. Many Nigerians would tell you that the country is religious, but despite all our prayers, we’re still backwards in almost everything – it’s a shame, isn’t it?
When it comes to homosexuality, I’ve heard people say that “it isn’t our culture”. They insist that homosexuality is the Western mindset, but they forget that it was the British that brought Christianity to Nigeria. That said, if the Western world tells you killing people for loving the same sex is wrong, it’s wrong. However, my people are more stubborn now. They believe they know it all. They use the Bible that they were given and spit out words like ‘sodom’ and ‘gomorrah’ whenever you talk about homosexuality. The part of the Bible that says “Love your neighbour as yourself” sieves through their mind.
Nigeria is a country where people are so frightened of the unknown. So scared of being different. A place where you get gawked at and judged just for standing out from the crowd. A place where you get yelled at for speaking up against what it is wrong. I grew up thinking that homosexuality didn’t exist in Nigeria. I read about it and I heard about it, but I never actually saw it happen. It wasn’t until I studied in England that I experienced gay freedom. It wasn’t until I moved to England that I learnt to love myself. It saddens me to think of the times I wasted, with tears rolling down my cheeks as I sat in the toilet stall, silently being God to change who I was. Being God to take my life because if I was being bullied at school for being effeminate, then the world would most likely murder me.
Most Nigerians spit the word gay like it’s a curse. They say it’s abnormal to sleep with your fellow man. Several people have been disowned by their family because of being who they are. Several people have been compelled to marry the opposite sex – somebody they aren’t even remotely attracted to because of the people’s fear of the unknown. The fear that our child must not be different from others.
The truth is that we are all the same. We are all human. Our sexuality only plays a minor role in our lives. I remember when the anti-gay law was created, it was almost as if the people forgot there were other issues in the country beside homosexuality. Everyone was more interested with getting rid of the gays that they turned a blind eye to the corruption in our government. I remember videos I saw online of a group of men gathering to attack two men for being gay. Right in front of adults and children they murdered these men. I remember another video of men who forced two men to have sex with each other as humiliation while a group lifted their phones up and recorded. I remember thinking to myself that this isn’t where I should be. This isn’t my home. Home is meant to be peaceful, so why is there so much hate? The crazy thing is most of these people don’t have a solid reason for their hatred for the gay community, but they say it’s the Bible that told them to hate us. Several gay Nigerians have also adopted this mindset and they battle with chronic internal homophobia.
When the anti-gay law was created, I was applying for a UK visa with hope to seek asylum without my parents knowledge. Unfortunately for me, my visa was denied and I felt doomed in a country where every second felt like my last. A few months after my visa was denied, I made the bravest decision I’ve ever made. I decided to view this country as my home so I came out to my mother at the risk of getting kicked out or disowned. It was a strule, but I succeeded in getting my mother to love me for who I am. From there I came out to other family members and did my best to educate them of my sexuality. I guess I was lucky because most people won’t listen.
Imagine what it felt like for me – being at work and listening to people say hateful things about homosexuality. I had gay friends who I met online but I was so scared of meeting them in person because one of us could be homophobic. One of my friends sent me an article and to my surprise it was a news about the death of another friend I knew from a gay app – his body was found in a hotel room, besieged by a pool of blood. The story claimed that he checked into the hotel with someone who he claimed to be his brother.
That was the threshold of my gay rights activism that continues today. I felt like I needed to speak up because someday I might be next. I wrote for various online journals and I ranted on social media. People from other countries showed love and support, but what did I get from my fellow Nigerian gays? I got a warning. I was told that I was wasting my time. Repeatedly they said that Nigeria doesn’t need gay rights. I was told that Nigerians don’t want gay marriage. They claimed they were happy hiding in the dark and using faceless pictures on gay apps and being worried that whoever they were about to meet online could be their doom.
I know many guys who have been kidnapped and some raped by strangers. Some have been robbed. We don’t have a gay club in Nigeria that I’m aware of but I know those who host gay parties and I’ve also read articles of the police arresting homosexuals from such gatherings. The country has advanced over the years and we have two gay clinics in Lagos, and that’s the only progress I know of. The saddest thing is we can’t report hate crime cases to anyone because even our sexuality is a crime. I know how often I have been condemned by other gays online for being out to my family. Something that should be admired was mostly frowned upon. Some might like their darkness and some might like the light. For me, I do hope someday we LGBTQ Nigerians will have a bright future.