Dec14
When I read a paper by an African
researcher that insinuates that Africans learnt homosexuality from Europeans
(and/or Arabs), I do not go to my happy place where only thoughts of first love
and first kisses rule. Rather I think about waking up in the dead of
the night to a ghostly white female figure hovering over my bed.
The white woman that
all African lesbians, bisexual women and women who sex with women know
intimately, because after all we learnt this from Europeans. In this cult of
gayness that the Europeans started, we are taught our colonial heritage and to
venerate Margherita dos Santos, the first very bored, very gay Portuguese
colonist wife who successfully seduced a young African woman in the
16th century thereby making homosexuality an African identity.
The above sound ridiculous? Well ridiculous is
what I find Africans who go out of their way to argue how “unAfrican”
homosexuality is. Africans who write lengthy “logical” papers, disputing various
sources and references, all while ignoring the real lives of LGBTIQ Africans
today. Their efforts are not only silly but dangerous to me and I probably
wouldn’t spit on them if they were on fire. I recently read one such paper, but
this one left me totally disheartened because I initially thought it was
pro-African queers. The paper in question is “A name my mother did not call me:
Queer contestations in African Sexualities” by Taiwo Oloruntoba-Oju. Perhaps
when I saw this title I zoned in on the “queer contestations in African
sexualities” part and for some reason believed that it was arguing for the
presence of homosexuality in pre-colonial African history. Little did I know
that the paper was written by someone who finds it “agonising that disputation
about the status of homosexuality in Africa is often equated with “homophobia”
even when some of the disputants have close and friendly relations with known
homosexuals” and who believes that “the imputation of homosexuality as an
African identity must of necessity generate [antagonism]”.
I happily settled down to read the paper, and it
started innocently enough but the more I read the paper, the more my face fell
and now days after reading it, I find that I am still angry with it. But I can’t
stop thinking about it and need to let my jumbled thoughts out in this post.This
paper evoked all sorts of feelings in me so this post may be lengthy, I’ve
broken it down to sections based on what I found problematic in the paper, so
you can leave and return easily. If I sound angry, I most likely am.
Africa as a monolith
Africa is such a big country, and what happens in
one part of Africa happens in the other part. So you come from an ethnic group
that has apparently never known what homosexuality is yet manages to somehow
consider it an abomination, this must be the same all across the village that is
Africa. It does not matter that your ethnic group numbers in the millions, and
that different regions have always had different customs in spite of sharing a
similar language (which turns out is not so similar considering dialects). In
one corner of the continent, homosexuality is considered a deviance so this must
be the same across the African continent. This ignores the diversity in which
disparate African philosophies viewed homosexuality, while in some societies
gays, lesbians and transgendered people were key to society’s psychic balance
(as among the Dagara of Burkina Faso), in others there were witches who were
exiled (see Izugbara O. Chimaraoke, “Sexuality and the supernatural in Africa”,
pp. 533-558, in African Sexualities: A Reader, ed. Sylvia Tamale). The
antagonists towards homosexuality as an African identity will do well in
remembering this.
Western terms and African
sexualities
When the antagonists argue that homosexuality did
not exist on the African continent before the advent of the Europeans and/or
Arabs, do they mean same-sex love or same-sex sex. Were Africans waiting to
learn how to develop feelings for a member of the same sex from the European
and/or Arab gay bogeyman? Or did queer Africans never practice any form of
sexual activity before the foreigners taught them to? Then again the Europeans
and/or Arabs supposedly taught our ancestors a lot, they civilised us, they
brought complex religious systems and the One True God, they taught us manners,
they taught us how to wear clothes, they taught us how to build civilisations,
they taught us how to maintain personal hygiene, they taught us medicine…and
they taught us how to develop feelings for the same sex and how to sexually act
on these feelings.
Truth is many Africans today are disconnected
from the sexuality our ancestors knew. We do not know our philosophies, or argue
that African philosophies do not exist. In the paper, the issue of
“woman-to-woman marriage” is brought up, and Oloruntoba-Oju argues (rightly so)
that this institution was not necessarily proof that the pre-colonial African
societies that practiced them accepted homosexuality and lesbian marriage. The
institution was probably not created to facilitate lesbian marriage, although it
did develop for varied reasons depending on region. Western scholars and
researchers have no right to impose their ideas of gay marriage on a society
where a woman marrying another woman was a show of wealth. But who is to say
that one lone African woman did not use this institution to her advantage and to
be with a woman she loved? Maybe the antagonists have the ability to read
through the minds and memories, and look into the houses and bedrooms of the
female husbands and their wives. Apparently no researcher is yet to have asked
women married to other women if there had ever been a sexual component to their
“social” arrangement (see Amory P. Deborah, ‘“Homosexuality” in Africa: Issues
and Debates’).
There is still not enough research into
African history outside of Egypt
The majority of African history remains shrouded,
under-researched, in the shadows or honestly ignored. Majority of us do not know
history outside the racist colonial lens and are surprised to read that our
ancestors engaged in complex
medical procedures or evenwrote
in indigenous script. Without this knowledge of pre-colonial African
history, along with the reality that there is even less research on African
sexuality in history, how can someone know for sure that “homosexuality” was not
practiced before the Europeans and/or Arabs introduced it? That it wasn’t an
identity?
Linking to the point below, the fact that most of
African histories are oral as opposed to written makes no difference. How many
Arabs, for example, would argue that homosexuality is a “Western deviation”
today despite the fact that there is written evidence to the contrary.
The activities of medieval Arab lesbians were well documented in studies from
the 9th century by philosopher al-Kindi and
physician Yuhanna ibn Masawayh. Written history can be destroyed and silenced
just as oral histories can.
The role of colonialism
Africans tend to dismiss the ways in which
colonialism (both European and Arab) damaged institutions and our view of self
and history. Most of what we insist today as “tradition” is in most cases not,
and I sometimes imagine our ancestors being shocked at some of the things we
claim as tradition. For example, views on marriage, years ago I read a paper
that argued that homosexuality would be strange to Africans because we have
always placed a high value on marriage. I am sure I cannot find that paper now,
in my
recent readings on Igboland I’ve seen that there were actually several
people in this pre-colonial African society who never married. The sex
workers, the priests and priestesses (all wives of Gods and Goddesses), the
slaves. I will not be surprised if there were more societies like the
pre-colonial Igbo in this respect, it may be more accurate to say that high
value was placed on children or that emphasis on marriage was reserved for
certain classes of people.
There is no way one can discuss pre-colonial
Africa, or in fact pre-colonial Asia, the Americas, Australia, while belittling
the role of colonialism. One cannot ignore that colonialism drastically changed
mindsets, as people adopted Victorian mindsets and mannerisms eschewing the
“barbaric” ways of their ancestors.
The role of language
Oloruntoba-Oju is Yoruba, in the paper they argue
that Yoruba people have no words, sayings or proverbs that indicate that they
knew what homosexuality was. Yoruba is a colourful language, and can be quite
explicit in detailing heterosexual sex emphasising the penis and the vagina, so
Oloruntoba-Oju believes that it should have been the same for homosexual sex. At
the same time, a saying “apparently” hidden deep within the Yoruba divination
cult was produced by a Nigerian scholar and says obinrin dun ba sun ju
okunrin lo (“it is easier to sleep [have sex] with a woman than with a
man”). This saying is dismissed as an isolated example, Oloruntoba-Oju drives
home their point by demonstrating how metaphorical Yoruba is, something that all
Yoruba speakers know. In praising twins, one says “twins, kindred of Isokun,
born of an ape” however this clearly doesn’t mean twins are apes or monkeys.
Perhaps this “isolated” saying refers to something else entirely, yet somehow
the sayings which reference penises and vaginas are not metaphorical. Not to
mention this widely popular saying, okunrin o se ba sun bi
obinrin (“you cannot sleep with a man as with a woman”) which is to be
taken at face value because it is “more established”.
Context is ignored, the former saying seems to be
coming from the perspective of a woman, while the latter from a man. If a Yoruba
woman who has sex with other women, says “okunrin o se ba sun bi
obinrin” is it not impossible that her next sentence would be “obinrin
dun ba sun ju okunrin lo”.
It seems the antagonists prefer to find a term
that directly translates to “lesbian” in Yoruba language. However what happens
if this term is vague or unrecognisable, it could have been simply “witch” as in
a recent Yoruba film I watched, Enisoko Soja, in which a man’s mother
was branded a “witch” after his wife dreamt she “made love” to her. Most terms
associated with lesbians in other languages are from the action of tribadism. In
Arabic, the roots of words linked to “lesbianism” and “lesbian” (s-h-q) means
“to pound” or “to rub” (see Amer Sahar (2009), “Medieval Arab Lesbians and
Lesbian-Like Women”, Journal of the History of Sexuality, Vol. 18, No. 2). And
in Urdu words which refer to female homosexual activity are rooted in words
like chapta which means “flat”, chapatna “to be pressed flat”
and chipatna “to cling to” (see Vanita Ruth (2004), “Married Among
Their Companions”: Female Homoerotic Relations in Nineteenth-Century
Urdu RekhtiPoetry in India, Journal of Women’s History, Vol. 16, No.
1). African languages may be unique and different, or they may be similar, some
antagonists may be searching for words they expect to clearly spell out
L-E-S-B-I-A-N while ignoring words other words like “pounders” or “clingers” or
even “witches”.
In addressing the difficulties of investigating
lesbian women in history Judith Bennett introduces the term “lesbian-like” to
cover those women who in the past lived lives that may have offered
opportunities for same-sex love, or lived in circumstances where they could
nurture and support other women. Rather than referring to such women outrightly
as lesbian, Bennett suggests “lesbian-like” to extend over those women in the
past who felt emotions towards other women, even if they never acted sexually on
this; women who never married; women who cross-dressed or assumed masculine
roles and mannerisms; as well as women who resisted established cultural norms
of sexual propriety (see Bennett M. Judith, “Lesbian-Like” and the Social
History of Lesbianisms). “Lesbian-like” recognises that not all societies had
constructed terms for women who had feelings for or had sex with other
women.
Oloruntoba-Oju mentions ‘yan ludu, a
term that means sodomy in Hausa and is derived from Arabic. ‘Yan
ludu literally means “people of Lot” and apparently the fact that Hausa
people refer to sodomy with this term “exposes its modern and post-contact
origin”. But what exactly does it expose? That the word is not indigenous to the
Hausa, or that sodomy isn’t? Considering the tone of the paper, I’ll go with the
latter. Notice the assumption that all gay men engage in anal sex, there is also
no mention of language appropriation. Today some Yoruba people call
milk, miliki, a term that clearly has roots in English, so I guess
Yoruba people did not know what milk was before Europeans introduced it. Moving
farther yet closer to the topic on hand, in Japan today, lesbians are referred
to as レズ (rezu) fromレズビアン (rezubian) which of course comes from English,
lesbian. レズビアン is a foreign word in every way, even down to the characters that
form it, this must mean that that there were no lesbians in Japan before
European intervention, an estimation that is laughable considering how well
documented same-sex relations are in Japanese literature and art history (although
the bulk is on men loving and sexing men because this is HIStory).
What constitutes “gay
behaviour”?
When I was growing up, it was a common to see two
men holding hands while walking down the street in parts of Nigeria. Now, maybe
a decade later, this scene has become rare because two men holding hands is
“gay”.
Oloruntoba-Oju states “it is true that even in
contemporary times, a good number of Africans go through an entire lifetime
without coming into contact with gay behaviour either in the rural areas or even
after having passed through such “high risk” urban locales”…with nothing to back
his claim except for this footnote; “A colleague reading this article recently
drew my attention to a forum observation by an apparently gay white fellow who
had been in Nigeria and had noticed that straight Nigerians apparently do not
have what he called a “gaydar”, hence a lot of gay sex does take place without
them being aware. If this observation is true it may well be a further curiosity
that these Africans seem not to have developed a gay sensitivity over the
centuries”. This falls back to several of my points above, especially the one on
imposing Western definitions on Africans. Oloruntoba-Oju argues elsewhere in the
paper against Western hegemony but fails to see how contradictory it is to then
attach relevance to this “white fellow” who believes that Nigerians do not have
a gaydar. There is no consideration that what constitutes gay behaviour in
Nigeria and how gay Nigerians single each other out may be different from what
this white man is used to. I mean how many straight people in the country this
white person comes from possess a gaydar? Does this suggest further curiosity
that these white people seem not to have developed a gay sensitivity over the
centuries?
Oloruntoba-Oju then continues, “many may have
“heard stories” but these are mostly about gayness being a “foreign import” and
occurring in proximal geographical locations where foreign contact has occurred
over the centuries”…again with no references. Oloruntoba-Oju mentions “logical”
reasons in being an antagonist to this preposterous idea that homosexual
identity is African but it is really debatable whether their paper exhibits
logic.
Conclusion
Oloruntoba-Oju argues that it is speculative to
debate that there was “homosexuality” in pre-colonial Africa. In my humble
opinion, it is just as speculative to argue that there was no “homosexuality” in
pre-colonial Africa. While majority of these African researchers do not like
stating whether they are talking about same-sex emotions, or same-sex sexual
activity, I am referring to both. I am not speculating when I state that some of
my African female ancestors must have developed feelings of attraction to other
women. Whether my female ancestors acted on these feelings may be
speculation, yet in societies were initiation ceremonies and sexuality training
schools involved women touching, massaging and pulling breasts and vulvas,
usually under the guise of “training” in order to please future male partners,
it is not inconceivable that my female ancestors physically loved the women they
adored. Maybe they did this secretly, maybe they were in the open and society
did not mind because it recognised that these things happen (getting speculative
here).
Albeit confusing, the paper was at times well
written and even convincing, I can agree that Western hegemony should not be
imposed on queer African identities but every other point was like someone
inserting needles in my skin. I suggest that heterosexual African researchers
leave criticisms of homosexual labels and identities to African queers
themselves. We are not as close-minded as you, and this is not an insult, a
privileged heterosexual worldview is limiting.
Homophobic African antagonists, yes homophobic,
fail to realise that part of their antagonism is attempting to wipe the
thousands of Africans who engaged in same-sex relationships, whether sexual or
not, from history. Oloruntoba-Oju positions as being largely for queer Africans
stating that “a synchronic focus on today’s sexuality realities in Africa may
well offer safer grounds of analysis of queer representation…” but then rounds
up with “…than the frequently strained colonial
imaginaries on pre-contact African
sexualities”! This is someone who finds the pain of being labelled
as a homophobe (because homosexual friends!) greater than the pain of LGBTIQ
Africans who have to face homophobia daily. Oloruntoba-Oju, in this paper,
completely ignores and, pardon the colourful language, shits upon the feelings,
thoughts and experiences of queer Africans. It could be that the paper is
addressed to the West and Western scholars, hence the mention of “colonial
imaginaries”, but this further emphasises my point on Oloruntoba-Oju completely
ignoring that queer Africans will find their presented historic picture
problematic.
I would like to end with a call to the queer
African women reading this, especially if you have a link to histories in some
way, even if it is access to the elders or ancestors. We need to gather the
stories and voices, keep them in a safe space where people can access this
information. Perhaps now or in the future, one woman will appreciate that there
was a woman who loved another woman in 13th century West Africa.
Amer Sahar (2009), “Medieval
Arab Lesbians and Lesbian-Like Women”, Journal of the History of Sexuality,
Vol. 18, No. 2 Vanita Ruth (2004),
“Married
Among Their Companions”: Female Homoerotic Relations in Nineteenth- Century
Urdu Rekhti Poetry in India, Journal of Women’s
History, Vol. 16, No. 1
