Growing up in Lagos, Nigeria, I was always known for my vivacious spirit and infectious laughter. I had a close-knit family, and they cherished me for who they believed I was. But I carried a secret that had burdened me for years.
From a young age, I knew I was different. I had felt it in the deepest corners of my heart. I knew I was a lesbian, but the weight of society’s expectations pressed down on me, making it impossible to reveal my true self. Nigeria, like many places, often viewed LGBTQ+ identities as taboo, and the fear of rejection loomed large.
One day, as I sat in one of the gardens at Unilag, watching couples stroll hand in hand, I felt an overwhelming longing for the same kind of love and acceptance. I had recently befriended a fellow student, Ada, who was openly gay. Her courage and self-assuredness inspired me to confront my own truth.
As my friendship with Ada deepened, so did my understanding of the vibrant LGBTQ+ community in Nigeria. I felt a growing sense of belonging and the need to embrace who I truly was. So I planned to come out to my family. They love me, how bad can it be?
When I spoke to Ada about coming out to my family, understandably she wasn’t thrilled. She thought my village people had taken over. But after calming down we had a good talk about it. She said it is not necessarily a bad thing and neither is it a definitely good thing. She said it is something you do when you are absolutely ready. She also advised that I do not feel pressured to come out to everyone if I do not see it going well. So instead of coming out to my whole family, I decided to just come out to my sister.
It was a Saturday, and I was helping her with the dishes in her house, kids were watching TV. I casually said, “Tobi wasn’t my friend”. She paused. I took her pause as an opportunity to go on, assuming she didn’t understand me.
“Zee wasn’t my friend either. Tolu from secondary school wasn’t just my friend either”.
She burst out laughing. Her reaction was quite surprising to me. She said she had always known but she thought it was best to have me come to her first. It was such a relief to finally have this secret out in the open. It was nice to have an ally in my house, someone who loves me and who truly cares for me.
I told her about my initial plan to come out to everyone in the family. Her reply, “Wow, slow down, madam. That’s way too risky.”. I guess I understand where she’s coming from. My Yoruba mother and my Igbo father’s reaction can be unpredictable. I am not ready to upend my life before finishing school.
I don’t know if I’ll come out to my whole family eventually, but I am happy where I am – basking in the positive vibes of living authentically in front of someone who is related to me and loves me dearly.
About the Writer
This writer has chosen to remain anonymous.