This piece was written for The Rustin Times’ #OurStories column by Nigerian Writer, Ado Aminu
Nigeria is a homophobic country. The country has laws and codes that prohibit both homosexual relationship and homosexual sex. I grew up watching viral videos of people like me—gay people—being humiliated in the southern region of the country. I also grew up reading stories of gay persons being killed in the North, stories crafted by southerners whose only impression of the North is of an African Pakistan. But the reality of gay people in Northern Nigeria is different and more complex than these stories. I grew up knowing that there were queer people—the very flamboyant kind—thriving as much as is possible to in ‘90s Kano. Then Shari’ah came, and with it came persecution.
When we speak of living out and proud, a vast majority of Nigerians imagine that it is only feasible for queer people in the Southern region where they figure is more liberal and hence less homophobic. I spoke to 5 queer persons living and thriving in Kano and Kaduna, out and proud to everyone that matters – family and friends and in one case neighbours too. Mostly to highlight a reality most Nigerians don’t know, but also to document where we are despite the loud Islamist rhetoric that grabs and holds on to the attention of the media.
Nasir, male, 29, Kano.
I discovered my sexual orientation at age 11. I had my first sexual encounter at 13 with a much older guy, and by much older I mean 5 times older; he was in his 70s. There were some tumultuous times when I struggled with self-acceptance, but in all that time, and through it all, I never entertained the idea of coming out to anyone least of all my mother. When she found out—walking in on me on top of a man, ploughing into him like my life depended on it and moaning like my soul was leaving my body—I thought, for sure, I was done for. I couldn’t imagine a way back from that. I was sure she would denounce me and, at least, throw me out. Worse still, I thought, she would hand me over to the Shari’ah police – Hisbah, and let me face my fate.
Her reaction baffles me to date. She walked back out of the room quickly muttering, “Next time you’re having sex in a room close the door from inside!” she said ‘sex’, that was what kept ringing in my head, not homosexual sex, there is a word for that in Hausa that is especially grave because it is associated with the mortal punishment of the people of Soddom and Gomorrah – Luwadi.
We avoided each other for the next 3 days, and when we talked there was a quiet acceptance in her demeanour and speech. She didn’t preach to me; my mother isn’t very religious. She just reminded me of the Qur’anic verses against homosexuality, the hadeeth and Islamic rulings against it, and pleaded that I reconsider what she called, “This way”. I was 22 years old when this happened.
The hardest part was the following 6 years when my mother casually asked at every chance she got when I would marry. She wasn’t the only one. I am a first child, the oldest of 3 boys. My immediate younger brother is married with a child. Every time there is a family gathering, I have to endure the snide remarks about how I am yet to marry when my younger brother already has a child, I am not moved. It is my Mom’s snide remarks that hurt the most because she knows, but at 28 I’ve learnt to take things as they come. I remind her now and then that this is who I am, and it isn’t changing, but I think she is adamant about being dense when it comes to that. We move.
Hajara, female, 24, Kaduna.
I didn’t even have a word for what I was when my mother found out and immediately escalated to my Dad. I was 13 and was exploring something neither I nor my then best friend, and what I will come to understand to be my first love, knew to be ‘wrong.’ We were kissing for the first time. It felt right in every way. I loved her so much and it felt only natural. Neither of us felt worried about being caught, we were kissing in the sitting room. My mom walked in, and her scream was jarring for many reasons.
For a while after that, the phrase “Innaa lillahi wa innaa ilaihi rahi’un” took on a new disturbing meaning. My beloved mother was crying and repeating it for hours after walking in on me kissing my 14-year-old friend. I couldn’t fathom why.
She chased my then friend away and my bewildered self was crying and asking what she did. It didn’t occur to me that I was also in the wrong. It was when my dad was back from work and informed by my Mom that I discovered there is a name for what I did and who I am—lesbianism and lesbian.
I think this is why, for years even after coming to terms with my sexuality, I couldn’t associate myself with that tag.
A lot has changed in 11 years, I now know. My mother has become my strongest ally, and I desperately need that. Being a woman means that many decisions will be made for me by men and older women, and that includes the decision to marry. I was under pressure to marry at 18, my Dad being the loudest advocate for it, most definitely because of the issue when I was 13. My Mom was initially in his camp, loudly pushing for me to marry so I will quit ‘lesbianing’. Until one day when she found me unconscious with an empty sachet of cyproheptadine that I took in hopes that I will slip easily into death. I had written a letter explaining how I felt betrayed and unloved by her. She became a new person after that.
She knows my current girlfriend and asks about her now and then. Every time someone talks about marriage now, she is the first to tell them to mind their business, and that includes my Dad who remains baffled at the sudden flip. I can never get over her first statement after I attempted suicide, “I don’t care who you sleep with Hajara, but don Allah don’t ever scare me like that!”
Ahmad, male, 26, Kano.
I don’t know if I am bisexual, but I am married to a woman I can confidently say I don’t love. We have been married for 7 years, with a child. In all those years we have only had sex what? Maybe 5 times. The second time made my baby, who I love fiercely. She knows I am into men, as do my parents and 3 siblings. Funny thing is while they know I am into men, and forced me into this marriage I am deeply unhappy about, they thank almighty Allah every day that I am married and saved from ‘that debauchery.’
I have had a heartfelt conversation with my parents about my queerness a week to my forced marriage, so I am sure they are not unaware that I still sleep with men. In my Mom’s words, “Whatever you do, at least the public is unaware.”
I don’t know if that is true, because my rightly disgruntled wife has told everyone who cares to listen that I don’t sleep with her. My ‘best friend’ is a 23-year-old effeminate single guy. I think putting two and two together can’t possibly lead to a 5. People know I am gay, but they can’t discuss it or approach me about it. It helps that I now live in the less conservative Nasarawa state, I can’t imagine what my situation will be if I still live in Kano.
Usman, male, 25, Kano.
I’m still broken 2 years later. I could be laughing and gisting with friends and suddenly I’ll be a teary mess because my Mom’s face, words, and her two days crying fit are all that my mind can picture. She repeatedly mentions how she regrets giving birth to me, and how I should be ashamed of myself bringing disrepute to my just deceased father. All this over allegations that I sleep with men. She didn’t even catch me sleeping with anyone!
For a while, I waited for an apology, but when it wasn’t forthcoming 3 months later, I moved on. She confronted me almost a year after the fact to confirm whether or not I’m in fact gay, and I defiantly told her I am. I’d already suffered enough, so it was more a “do your worst” dare. I guess she had also expended her angst because her response was, “you know you won’t end well if you don’t repent, right?”
She isn’t the only one who knows either, my entire extended family does. Being the oldest child of my Dad’s means my family is forever embarrassed. I should be representing him in family affairs now that he is deceased, but no one rates me, so we are mostly excluded from family affairs. I’m fine with that. I don’t know if my younger sisters are.
I’m just happy I no longer have to pretend when I’m around my Mom and siblings.
Zainab, female, 22, Jigawa.
I’ve been married for 3 years, to a man I do not love. The only thing that has sustained me is my girlfriend who is always there for me.
The marriage was a hastily arranged one after my Dad caught me kissing my then-girlfriend. Until that day, he never just walked into my room—no one does. I kept thinking later that he must have suspected something for a while. My girlfriend—her name is Amina—had been to the house many times, and I guess he put two and two together because we would always stay in my room for hours.
When he told my mom, she cried like she was mourning my loss. She begged, prayed and lamented about me being a lesbian. I think what really wrecked me was how she spat the word out like a curse. I couldn’t resist the arranged marriage after that, so I made of it what I could.
I have a substance dependence just so I can endure sleeping with my husband. When I’m with my current girlfriend, who I met online 2 years ago, I’m sober and happy. As happy as can be in any case. Any time else, I’m high on codeine. I don’t know how long I will be able to sustain this. One day at a time, I guess.
