Nosa’s manager found out he was gay after he was kitoed* and his abductors contacted people in his contacts for money. When he returned to work, things felt different with his colleagues and manager. About a month later, he was let go, with the reason given as team downsizing, even though he was the only one affected.
When he interviewed for another job and his potential employer contacted his former manager for a reference, his former manager revealed his sexuality to his potential employer and suggested not hiring him to avoid damaging their company’s image.
Reflecting on this Nosa shares, “My kito ordeal appeared to serve as the conclusive evidence he sought regarding my sexuality. He consistently voiced grievances about my choice to wear nail polish, weaving jests about my mannerisms, likening them to those of a woman. In team meetings, he humorously referred to me as Agbani Darego, eliciting laughter from my colleagues.”
In Nigeria, a country deeply rooted in a binary perception of gender, the day-to-day activities of gender nonconforming individuals, whether it’s taking public transportation, going to work, or merely existing, are fraught with the looming spectre of violence.
Tarela, a 28-year-old Program Implementation Specialist and Product Designer, has long been cognizant that her society didn’t provide room for her or her chosen presentation. Reflecting on her university experience in deeply religious Northern Nigeria at the age of 15, she recalls sporting a low cut, baggy trousers, and oversized slippers. This distinctive style drew attention from lecturers, who perceived it as a visual representation of irresponsibility and uncouth behaviour for a young woman. Teasing from course mates followed, as they held the belief that only boys should dress and indulge in the things she liked, often leading to deliberate misgendering with people labelling her as a man instead of a woman.
Nigerian Society strongly adheres to the belief that men should conform to a specific appearance, as should women, despite the absence of any prescribed rules governing the visual expression of a particular gender. Any deviation from this norm raises an assumption of homosexuality.
Therefore, it’s unsurprising that queer people like Nosa and Tarela who are gender nonconforming in their presentation might face the inquiry, “Are you a man or a woman?” in contexts where such information is entirely irrelevant. The workplace stands out as a key arena for the policing of gender and sexual orientation as numerous organisations enforce stringent dress codes rooted in assumed gender norms, leading nonconformists to face hurdles right from the interview stage.
“During the interview for my first job, the recruiter looked at me pointedly and stated, “If I don’t fuck you, you will never work here.” It appears that men get annoyed when confronted with my choice to present myself in a manner that aligns with my comfort rather than conforming to their expectations. Their initial impulse is often to challenge my masculinity, attempting to instruct me on how to dress and behave according to their perception of femininity. On that particular day, the recruiter went beyond making remarks about my dress sense and gait, boldly asserting that a sexual encounter with him would supposedly reveal the beauty in Atampa*.” Tarela vividly recalls this unsettling encounter.”
Pere, a queer woman presenting with a more masculine appearance and employed as a marketing and strategy professional, notes that she hasn’t faced negativity during job interviews due to her presentation. She acknowledges this might be because she consistently applies for positions at multinational companies, which tend to be more circumspect in displaying overt homophobia.
“While there could be situations where a job opportunity slipped away due to the interviewer’s personal biases, they often refrain from vocalising such prejudices to avoid repercussions from the global community.”
Gender nonconforming individuals who successfully pass their interviews must then navigate the preconceived notions their coworkers may hold about them due to their presentation.
“My first job was in the military where it was practical to dress like I did thus sparing me from negative remarks about my appearance. Transitioning to an international organisation and now working remotely has further minimised in-person interactions, decreasing the chances of unfavourable comments. Although I occasionally face uninformed remarks, they typically stem from individuals resistant to expanding their perspectives. Thankfully, those making such remarks haven’t wielded significant influence in my career progression.” Tarela adds.
Tarela’s experience is in sharp contrast to the Experience of Arinze, a 33-year-old openly gay man residing in Lagos, Nigeria. Arinze serves as an eCommerce manager and has never encountered challenges in securing employment based on his appearance or perceived sexual orientation. He attributes this to his ability to project a conservative image initially, often passing as heterosexual due to his demeanour and dress sense.
He says:” I am a bit effeminate but I am not flamboyantly femme so people still assume I’m straight, until they get to know me better or employ me and discover I’m rainbow underneath.”
For people like Arinze who “pass” , navigating the workplace is still somewhat complex. Even though Arinze has been with his current company for five years, the journey of openly expressing his sexuality at the workplace began only two years ago. This decision was carefully timed, as he gaged his team members’ responses during office discussions on sexuality. Fortunately, his line managers prioritise the quality of his work over his sexual orientation, fostering an environment where he excels. Yet, with upper management, he adopts a more reserved approach, deliberately maintaining an air of mystery about his personal life to mitigate any potential biases.
“In my workplace, there’s a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell vibe when it comes to matters related to someone’s sexual orientation and gender identity. For instance, my colleagues have seen LGBTQ content on my WhatsApp stories, yet it’s never been a topic of discussion. However, during Pride Month, when I displayed the pride flag on my desk, my line manager suggested I remove it, as the company doesn’t align with a pro-LGBTQ stance.” He says.
Pere, previously mentioned, reveals that despite working for a multinational company, she perceives her presentation as a hindrance to professional growth within the company. This challenge extends to navigating personal interactions with colleagues. “Suggestions to wear more feminine clothing are frequent, and I’ve been told by colleagues I resemble a man. While heterosexual colleagues freely discuss their relationships and marriages, assumptions about my single status persist since I’m unable to openly talk about my partner at work. Jokes about my unmarried status are commonplace, although my relationship has outlasted some of their marriages. Additionally, female colleagues tend to overly explain their interactions with me to avoid being perceived as queer by others.”
Due to the challenges encountered while navigating the corporate work environment, many gender nonconforming individuals opt to sidestep these spaces altogether. Instead, they choose to seek employment within creative or artistic industries, celebrated for their more open-minded culture that allows for greater freedom of expression. Regrettably, not every queer or gender nonconforming Nigerian can pursue a career as an artist or join international organisations. Hence, fostering an inclusive atmosphere is paramount through small, everyday actions. Prioritising a person’s work ethic, skills, and talents over their outward appearance plays a pivotal role in shaping individuals’ perceptions of equality and belonging in specific spaces.
*Kito: Kito is a Nigerian slang term describing the act of extorting money or valuables from queer people through threats of exposing their sexual orientation to families, friends, or communities. This form of homophobic violence serves as a means to control and intimidate queer individuals.
*Atampa: Colourful traditional fabric for women in northern Nigerian.
N/B: Names have been changed to protect the identities of those interviewed.
