I experienced my first kiss in JSS1. It was with a girl and she was my roommate. After the kiss, I worried incessantly about how the entire world, especially my family, would feel receiving the news of my sexuality. Attempting to be open was not even a choice as both my secondary school and my dear country had staunch anti-gay rules. I also understood that at some point, I would be expected to get married and have children.
Despite my feelings, I reasoned that I could make it work by getting married to a man even if I yearned to also be with women. I told myself that I would ‘seriously date’ men, while my sexual experiences with women would remain on the sidelines. I thought I had it all figured out.
It was not until I was truly ready to confront my internalized homophobia that I understood I was doing myself and the women I came in contact with a huge disservice. I was so busy rejecting the feelings I knew were inside me to satisfy an arbitrary societal expectation. There was also my longing for the validation that male affection provided and being desired by men that also made me prioritize and over-emphasize the attention of men.
Even the harm being done to me in my relationships with men could not dissuade me from placing their meagre attention above the pure connection I felt with many women in the past. While same-sex relationships are not automatically devoid of harm, all women are socialized to diminish and ignore the ways in which men in our lives constantly harm us. When we are not downplaying harm from men, we are internalizing it and finding fault within ourselves as a justification for why we have been harmed.
I have been seeing my girlfriend, A*, since last November. Being my first serious relationship, I ensure, to be honest, and open about my feelings for this woman as it is of the utmost importance to me. Being with a woman means confronting on a somewhat day-to-day basis the unlikelihood of our relationship ever being able to move forward or rather, achieve the markers of what is considered to be a ‘successful’ relationship under a compulsory-heterosexual lens.
It is valid to note that in heterosexual partnerships, there is an ease with making future plans. In the very beginning at least, long-term expectations are surveyed in order to facilitate relationship building. There are soft, intentional kisses shared in public and romantic dates that are not treated like mere ‘girl’s night-out by the general public. There is the hope of one day meeting the other person’s family, being introduced as their partner and becoming even more familiar with the significant others’ world. There are milestones to signify important dates, such as anniversaries. On Valentine’s Day, there are gendered cards and red hearts with chocolates inside. There are public proposals to envy and wedding pages filled with different ideas for engaged couples. In the office, there are colleagues who are familiar with your partner and you share relationship tidbits with. This reality unfortunately does not exist for queer people in Nigeria.
While my mother has met A*, I had to introduce her as a friend. When she meets people in my life I am not out to, it is even more pertinent to draw a shroud and shield our relationship from them.
I feel insecure as a result of the lack of ‘binding’ we have towards each other in our relationship. I may console myself with the idea that these markers of successful partnerships are all set up by the nuclear-family industrial complex, but it is extremely hard to divest from the feeling of playing a back-seat in my own lovers’ life.
In an ideal world, all queer people would make future plans with their loved ones; the only probability being a willingness to commit and not an entire homophobic law hanging over our heads. We could hold hands in public or introduce our partners in a romantic context to family and friends. We would have the option to rent a house together, adopt if qualified and be each other’s legal next of kin. We would love boldly without shame or fear. However, the current reality is so far away from this it hurts. So many queer people are less than eager to create meaningful partnerships as a result of the looming evil that homophobia presents. This leads to a world of hurt people, as many of us might desire strong connections and even begin to foster them, then become dissuaded fearing blow-back. While we might want the encompassing affection that we share for one another to be enough to break against all odds, reality reminds us that this is wishful thinking.
The fight against queer-phobia is a feminist fight indeed, as many of our identities intersect not only with women but also in our sexualities. Embracing my sexuality as a bisexual woman has taught me gentleness, an innate appreciation for women and also helped me become even more committed to being a better feminist overall. Seeing as leaving the country is not a feasible option for so many, it is redundant to keep bringing it up in conversations about LGBTQ oppression. For now, many of our relationships remain non-conventional. This means that we should be encouraged to celebrate these connections as we please. Commitment ceremonies, two-month anniversary celebrations and anti-Valentine’s Day are welcome fun ways to push back against hetero-normativity. Being intentional with my relationship means making efforts to enjoy ourselves, even in the smallest of ways and fighting queerphobia to the best of our abilities.
