Dear Africa,
You know how crazy we all got this year when the Akinfessi photos
splashed everywhere. Everyone suddenly became ‘Akinfessi’. And then the Orlando
shootings happened! Oh God! 2016 seemed a dark year. Who did not cry? Who was
not angry? But coming from this we also stepped into a miracle, the gay
conversation. More than any time in Nigeria’s history, same-sex affection has
been written about, spoken of, mentioned, and dreamt about. More people were
attacked and arrested. More people are being harassed in their homes and on
social media. But as opposed to it just being the unfair ratio of Nigeria
against the sexual and gender minority community, it has become a growing and
substantial fraction of Nigeria at an amala table with the rest of it. Some of
the homegrown incidents of this conversation are the star-studded Nollywood film Hell or High
Water(which I’m still dying to see) and the breath-taking anthology Blessed
Body.
I got a copy of Blessed Body a few months ago, and it shared
my bedside with school work and extracurriculars. But yesterday, I finished it!
Africa, Blessed Body is a fierce one!
Its birth has Unoma Azuah and Queer Alliance(a Nigerian
LGBTI non-governmental organisation) in the mix. Its pages are bedazzled with
fabulous contributors from all over the world with one thing in common,
Nigeria. Aze Ebira to Kennedy T.Chidi, Godwin Sodi, Kenny Bademosi, Pamela Adie
to Gamal Turawa, the list goes on. From lips that are so ordinary and among us,
it is hard to ignore. From hearts that beat so within us, it is difficult to
walk away from. 37 unapologetically and fiercely written auto-biographies!
Africa, they are telling stories. Stories of us. They write
that we were here from the beginning and are still here. They write that we sat
and still sit in the class rooms of primary and secondary schools, to learn.
That we got drenched in the rain. They write that we prayed, cried and
travelled both the dusty and glazed paths of healing homes, churches, shrines
and airports. That we got raped and disowned. That we bore the pregnancy of our
children and our dreams loathing in faith and self-hate. We made mistakes.
Mistakes that leave scars that may hurt for ever. Who knows? But they write of
victories that are so imminent that faithlessness is foolish. They also write
of the sweet journey that being you has cursed us with.
What I find most striking about Blessed Body is that it goes
beyond the clichés of ‘the community’. The clichés that those who are most like
us are the safest. They are presumed to understand the most and will be the
first source of protection. From where I am standing it, Blessed Body seems to
warn that not everything or everyone that is familiar is a safe space, not even
if there is a common sexual orientation or gender identity. This anthology
exposes that even within the community there are predators to be weary of.
But also, the stories acknowledge the gift and curse of
strangers. People and things on the other side of our phones, towns, faiths,
realities and world. People whose affection can either poison or nourish us. People
and things into whose arms our life as minority forces us. In some hilarious
light, we see that heart’s tendency to flirt is universal. And that even in the
most dire of circumstances, it still finds the stamina to love, trust and
desire. Breath-taking is what Blessed Body is, it is difficult to say what gay
story stands out the most, because they are all valid facets of the big one.
Blessed Body isn’t so much an ‘Akinfessi tale’ but it has
given the Nigerian ‘gay conversation’ more weight and texture than it has ever
had. Africa, this book is a smack of most of the things Nigeria, and even you,
should know about our minority children, travellers, preachers, parents, and
lovers. I guess it is safe to say that this is our point of departure, and it
only gets better as to be understood one must be heard, then listened to; seen,
then read. More importantly, to be understood, we must ourselves understand.
As always, I love you. Even while you scar me, I haven’t a
reason to be scared of you. This is my painful truth.
Blessings,
Nnanna
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