Spectra Speaks
Last year, I attended a conference about Africa’s development. In a session about African identity, we explored the question of whether one could claim to be African without being fluent in their mother tongue. Some said yes. But many said no. For this, I blame colonialism… and Sesame Street.
When I woke up to International Women’s Day celebrations today, the first thing on my mind wasn’t politics, but the personal connections I didn’t know I would forfeit the minute I stopped wearing skirts, traded in my long hair for a frohawk, and fell in love with a woman. In light of international women’s day, I can’t help but note how often my masculinity is used to exclude me from accessing the same sisterhood that nurtured my unwavery dedication to every woman’s empowerment.
This is my last post for 2012. I’ve been back in the states for almost two weeks, struggling with what words to send you in closing of my Africans for Africa new media training project. I’ve started about a dozen posts and letters, and have scrapped them each time. But I’ve settled for this stream of consciousness, this simple offering of gratitude. Thank you, for now, will have to do.
As a group that is routinely judged, shunned, and fighting for acceptance, we as LGBTI (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex) people are often pigeon-holed into playing the role of educator to the people that inflict the most pain on us, our friends and family. But it doesn’t always have to be that way. Give the gift of media, and absolve yourself of being the “go-to LGBT person” for the Holidays.
I didn’t sign into Facebook that morning. I knew what I’d see; a timeline of status updates and cropped purple photos for Spirit Day; a timely performance of empathy. I knew, too, that my Facebook feed, practically segmented into Lists, including one for “Nigerian”, “College” and “Queer” would vary in hue, with barely any purple love coming from the Nigerian feed, and my white, queer, progressive community in Boston leading the way. I wanted to have nothing to do with it.
An articled called, “An End to Self Care” was recently published, in which an activist proposed bringing an end to all the individualism behind “self-care” and, instead, called for sustainable community care. His piece (and some of its praise) reminded me why I’ve made it a point to stay away from activist spaces: the martyr complex, and its groupthink masquerading as a kumbaya camping circle. Here’s my emotionally drained, sleepy, and over it response.
I have witnessed the daily grind of empowerment of black South African lesbians, watched them sink and wade through the cultural stigma that surrounds them like a mist, clouding the world’s perception of their lives as ordinarily human. Thus, I have come to re-affirm my belief that we must also celebrate our proud perseverance, our steady survival, just as fervently as we do our big, bold acts of bravery.
Second post for my Love and Afrofeminism series for BITCH Magazine: “That my girl could mindlessly shimmy onto a dance floor even as a gay woman and enjoy the simple pleasure of a dance, go out with her straight friends to bars and not be stared at or called names, etc., while everything about the landscape, from the “Ladies free before 11PM” sign to the man-woman dance partner pairings made me so angry all of a sudden. And, I didn’t know how to handle it.”
Love Is My Revolution: A few weeks ago, I shared a short photo essay about my best friend, ChiChi. We’d been estranged for four years due to my sexuality and her Christian faith. Recently, we reunited to find our friendship changed for the better. Given the ongoing battle between religion and sexuality, what ChiChi has shared re: her faith, journey to deeper connection with God, her Love of me, and even her own exploration of her sexuality — not in spite of, but because of her faith — is nothing short of brave.
Growing up in Nigeria, the idea that improving the lives of women was a cause worth fighting for didn’t just come from organizations, or brochures, or formal programming; I had strong women around me who constantly put this into practice in the every day, including my own mother.
About Me
Meet Spectra: Queer Nigerian Afrofeminist Writer and Media Activist. Social Entrepreneur Nurturing Principled Diaspora and Women's Philanthropy in Media and Tech. Self-Care and Self-Love Evangelist. Idealist Warrior Woman. Big Dreamer. Big Thinker. Big Doer, Too.
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