This is my first “issue”, so to speak, of A o re “queer”?, with a roundup of South African queer blog activity in the past week or so.
But you know what else has no place there? Queers with disabilities, without fancy clothes to fit the brief, money to purchase the alcohol and even non gender conforming black feminists. If you imagine Pride to be a place where every queer, despite their racial, cultural and class background, finds refuge and relief from a hostile world through whose heteronormative eyes they are bizarre
Pride will be returning to Johannesburg soon and Sipho Maga provides reasons why we need to reconsider its meaning in light of what happened two years ago with the 1-in-9 activists and its thorny issues of class, race and gender. It is also worth reading because he avoids the puritanical shaming of sexual expression and superficiality at pride events to make his point.
The convoluted nature of postcolonial reality is revealed when draconian anti-homosexuality laws, which harken back at puritanical anti-sodomy laws, are being created by Africans to oppress fellow Africans in the name of a colonial Jesus. The messiness of postcolonial life is also revealed at burials where priests and church leaders preside over mutilated bodies of African lesbians in South Africa but fail to link the church’s hatred of homosexuality and the consent it generates for the murders of African lesbians. The Christian obsession with people’s sexuality and “how” homosexuals have sex knows no boundaries, to a point where gay pornographic videos are shown in church.
Scott exposes the hypocrisies of anti-gay movements that claim to preserve “African culture”. He laments the unbearable irony of African countries being “rough drafts” (damn!) of Western countries in governance and the inability to recognise that Christianity is, strictly speaking, un-African but it is mixed up with questionable ideas of a queer-free pre-colonial Africa to condemn non-heterosexual people.
Scott imagines how queer identities could provide a template for fashioning new post-colonial African identities. He suggest that with the little that African queers have to draw from in creating their identities, they are able to create something new, especially in defiance of Christianity and therefore, the colonial legacy. In that sense, they are authentically moving beyond colonial influences, possibly more so than leaders the anti-gay Afrocentrist rhetoric.
Elsewhere, Scott says:
In the tirade against homosexuals many are oblivious or look the other way at African men and women who are not ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ but engage in what sociologist would call situational homosexual sex. This is the sex between people of the same-sex that would occur in prisons, in boarding school, in the mines, and in woman only spaces, not because these people necessarily identify as homosexual but the opportunity for same-sex sex presents itself. With this then I would echo Michelle Foucault’s assertion that people are not really affronted about homosexual sex per se but are unsettled by the audacity of people to actually love each other.
What figures “failed” to achieve “full” personhood? In my cursory reading (okay, some quite extensive), a few figures keep cropping up. One study claims that bachelors could exist because their married status depended on the economic status, but that “spinsters” were unthinkable. Other work singles out loners as “cursed people.” While yet other work speaks about people with disabilities. In an African studies still dominated by the importance of communitarianism and kinship, we might ask about the figures who fail to appear on genealogical trees and the figures who fail to repopulate those trees. Paying particular attention to how diverse communities organize their senses of self and community, confer personhood and status, we might look for those figures excluded from these designations.
This post is complete with fully cited references, so we mean business, y’all. Macharia is in pursuit of an African Queer Studies that sets itself apart from the mainstream Queer Studies and the Black Queer Studies done in the African diaspora.
He describes the scholarship on African Queer Studies and is clearly exasperated by the repetitive mentions of how “homophobia, not homosexuality, is a Western import”. I suppose he would concede with Lwando Scott to a certain extent that it is necessary to point that out. However, he asserts that scholars need to look beyond the idea of homophobia based on the more Western classifications of “gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, intersex”. The more perceptive ethnographies in Africa do show that these are not reliable classifications and so may not enable us to describe a specifically pre-colonial African type of marginalisation that can be distinguished from the kind of homophobia brought in by Western colonisers.
He proposes that we ask the question of queer existence in relation to African conceptions of “personhood” – akin to Ubuntu – identified by studies of African metaphysics as a prevalent feature of African thought found across the continent. Personhood, in simple terms, is the fulfilment of one’s role as a member of the community, including their duty to bear children. In a scenario where a queer person does not fulfil that aspect of their personhood, what can that tell us about how queer people fit into African society? Are queer people also those figures that do not fulfil their personhood?
A conclusion then would be that if there is or was marginalisation, homophobia would not be the best descriptor for it and that even though colonisers brought homophobia, we may need to describe a pre-colonial version of anti-queer marginalisation.
Let us work with Macharia’s proposition that we relate queer identities to the concept of personhood. If these two are not at ease with each other, they could be integrated and so there is potential for creative African queerness that Lwando Scott argues for in his post.
There is so much to grapple with here, I suspect this post will reappear in the future.
I learned that homosexuality was just the first avenue to address a lot of other injustice committed in the name of Islam. And now you’d be amazed at the amount of straight people that are attracted to our organisation. So I realised that I’d taken on something big. I’ve taken on the patriarchy that sits behind Islam. It’s not easy, and it requires a good amount of faith to do that work. But thankfully, I am in the business of faith.
Hendricks’ approach does not isolate his sexuality as an issue but also connects it with other aspects of Islam as an institution that need confrontation. His work strikes me as courageous and humane, especially in the face of such intense backlash from his community.
On Sunday morning when I had doubts about whether to go ahead with this project, this came up on my Twitter timeline. I had doubts about it because I could foresee reaching a point in the future where my synthesis of entries gets repetitive. The immediate uniqueness to me of this entry, however, speaks for itself. Perhaps the novelty of a Muslim perspective highlights how either my experience with queerness is rarely presented from a Muslim point of view or that I personally need to seek it out where it may be lying in abundance.
I’m not here for the mainstream gay rights movement, because it’s not here for me. It’s not here for my trans* siblings, my asexual and polysexual peers, people of colour, or the working class. The reason why I identify as an intersectional feminist is because this movement aims to end oppression of all kinds: it aims to support people oppressed based on their race, gender, sexuality, abilities, language, nationality, culture, religion, ethnicity, and so on.
Sorry, gay cisgender middle-class white men, but I’m not going to call myself a part of your movement if you don’t have my back.
This entry from Sian Ferguson is a few months old but I thought it needed to be put on here because it succinctly takes homonormativity to task and points out the problems with the idea that LGBTI people having to assimilate with the rest of society for acceptance. She identifies the similarities between the gay rights movements in America and South Africa, and how both try to attain standards of heteronormativity while avoiding issues of intersectionality, like how it plays out in the phenomenon of corrective rape.
Expect No. 2 in a week or less.
If the post seemed a bit lengthy (around 1600 words) for what it tried to achieve, do let me know if you feel it needs to be shorter in the comments.