I once heard bell hooks ask, “Where do black people go?” Hearing her ask this question set me down a path of deep contemplation. I live in Nigeria, and here black people are somewhat free to exist without the threat of racist violence. So I did not contemplate where black people go, but I considered where a different group (queer people) go. Particularly queer people who live in Nigeria. When I think of all the violence and assault queer people in Nigeria face daily, I wonder why any queer individual would even think of leaving their house. Upon deeper contemplation, I realized that for many queer people in Nigeria, even the home is not a safe place for them to exist in, let alone live authentically.  

Queerness has many complexities. While queerness is often essentialised as homosexual or homosexual behaviour, it goes way beyond the heterosexual/homosexual binary. It is important that we are cognizant of this so we understand that it isn’t a simple matter of disclosure or non-disclosure. Queerness takes many forms; the queer scene is full of diverse identities and expressions. If we want to proffer solutions to queer issues, we mustn’t take a monolithic approach; we must instead embrace intersectional approaches that examine the complexities of living as a queer person. We must think very critically about how various things intersect to form queer oppression.  

Queerness in Nigeria is particularly complex. For a lot of queer Nigerians, simply moving out and living alone is not enough. Many of them are unsafe living by themselves in their own homes where they pay the bills, as they are often policed by neighbours and people around who constantly invade their private space to monitor their lives and make sure they aren’t engaging in queer acts. I once sat with a queer friend who had expressed that whenever they had friends of the same sex come over to their home and perhaps spend the night, their neighbours would beam flashlights into their room to make certain they were not having sex. I spoke about this with a person who is learned by academic standards, and their response provided me insight into the cis/heteronormative patriarchal consciousness and imagination. They shared that because my friend is queer—and conspicuously so—they are not entitled to privacy because they may be carrying out illegal sexual practices. This response made it clear to me that in the mind of cis/heteronormative patriarchy, “legal” equates “right” in so far as it does not make them uncomfortable or transgress what they deem normal. 

Very regularly, I encounter queer people who have lost hope and the will to live in a world that constantly antagonises them. Many times, I meet these wonderful people while they are contemplating suicide. Just by listening to them, I could tell that they used to be hopeful and grateful for the opportunity to wake up and exist in the world but they have been crushed by systems that oppress them, systems that make room for their oppression. Many eventually choose to live or are forced to live by the same systems that make it difficult for them to exist. For some, they perpetually struggle to completely move beyond the point of considering suicide. The persistent longing to disengage from the human experience remains with them. Some others go on living without the desire to die, but they develop a  queer realist perspective some may describe as cynical. They develop a dry dark humour, appearing to not care about anything or anyone too much. People with this disposition are often demonised by the popular culture. Their stories are overlooked and marginalised in favour of narratives that appear to have a happy ending. 

During the Second World War, Abraham Wald coined the term survivor bias, a term that I think conceptualises the way popular culture reacts to people whose stories and experiences do not have the “I came out with joy” endings. We must learn to understand and acknowledge that for many people the experiences they go through will alter their disposition. Especially queer people.

For many queer people, the way to resist the Cis/heteronormative patriarchy is to be brutally honest to themselves and others about what they face and how they see the world. To them, this is a form of ammunition. Knowing that the world does not favour them, and being realistic about the amount of change possible in their lifetime, is an act of resistance. For many queer people, resistance is knowing and saying, “ I don’t care about the glass, it being half empty or half full is irrelevant because the glass isn’t mine. I should instead be aware that the glass can be weaponised against me at any moment.” Many may see it as an act of resignation but in many ways, it is a form of self-preservation and that, in itself, is resistance. 

About the Author:

obed hailsham is a Nigerian researcher whose work intersects cognitive linguistics, gender studies, queer theory, and biblical studies. With a dedicated focus on marginalized communities, obed advocates for perspectives from the margins, challenging mainstream narratives and adding layers of complexity to societal lenses. Their deep fascination with the role of language in shaping our world drives them to meticulously examine how linguistic structures influence our perceptions.

*Feature image by Oladimeji Odunsi on Unsplash