Awhile back I made a friend on social media who risked her freedom and privacy by opening up to me. What initially caught her attention was a photo I posted at a local pride event. So many of us effervescently don our rainbows and glitter as a statement of true liberation, but do we take the time to remember those left behind? This piece is not only an ode to bravery, and a reminder that the fight isn't over. " Coming out" is commonly painted as the main arc of queer stories, despite the fact that coming out is a privilege that everyone is not afforded. We will call my friend " M" and her lover " Dj". They both reside in Senegal Africa. The two were introduced by a friend, and falling in love was as easy as breathing. M was then faced with her first dilemma; deciding between staying with her current boyfriend, or honoring her true feelings. With this being M's first experience with a same sex relationship, the decision held a heavy weight. Senegal is known for having some of the harshest anti lgbt legislation in Africa. The social stigma of public displays of " homosexuality" could end in harrassment, jail-time, sexual violence, ostracization from one's family and even death for the individuals involved. Government officials often use anti gay rhetorics to fuel their campaigns, ensuring re-election, while maintaining and heightening intolerance among the public. The goal here is not to evolve toward acceptance of all people, but to weaponize hatred as a power play. M comes from a devout Muslim family, while Dj comes from a Christian one. Both of these factors would lead to their own unique challenges. Dj was more open with her expression of their love, while M was forced to be more modest. Despite this, it was almost instinctual for Dj to reach for her hand in public or want to snap a quick picture freezing their happiest moments . This often caused friction in their relationship. The balance between survival and bliss was not always easy to maintain. Dj ( who was out to her parents) couldn't fully grasp the burden of fear that M was constantly holding onto. When asked how M thought her own parents would respond, she mentions that her mother would probably murder her before killing herself with her father's reaction mimicking the first one. The conversation sang happier tune once I asked M to tell me about one of her favorite memories of the relationship. " My birthday". M's sister and friends helped Dj plan a surprise night for the both of them. Dj gifted M with a pretty dress to wear as they danced in a room filled with rose petals and candle paths. For one night nothing else mattered, time didn't exist, and they were able to lose themselves in each other. My final question was, " What dreams do the two of you have for the future?" M mentions getting married and possibly fleeing to a far town that is known for having less strict laws for lgbt people. This would require M leaving her entire family behind without the possibility of returning. America needs to realize people are watching us, wishing they could live the same lives we take for granted everyday. While interviewing M & crafting this piece, I was forced to look into my own past fishing through the painful parts, while being thankful for how far the relationship between me and my own mother has come. Below is an article that highlights Senegal specifically, and can give the reader a better sense of what everyday life entails for their LGBT+ people. https://www.reuters.com/article/senegal-lgbt-rights/feature-fighting-for-survival-senegals-gay-community-is-on-its-own-idUSL8N1W454T
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Author- A pro black queer feminist writer and poet from Alabama. I write to inform and to open the doors of people's minds. The fact is that I am a minority living in a state more red than Donald Trump's scalp under his bird nest toupee, and this fact helps me to give a different perspective than the status quo. Dive into the waters of my mind and don't forget a safety raft. Archives
June 2019
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