By Ayodele Olofintuade, Dolapo Osunsina, Alexandra Maduagwu and Chiamaka Dike
“Love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” ― James Baldwin.
On a chill Wednesday morning, I made my way to the heart of Lagos Island to hFactor homes, preparing for a dynamic experience with three remarkable individuals who have dedicated their lives to advocating for safe spaces and building communities for queer Nigerians. This wasn’t just any conversation; it was an opportunity to witness the profound humanity and resilience of those who navigate life on the margins, driven by love and a vision of a more inclusive world.
What comes to mind when you hear queer people? Often, the image is of a marginalised group threatened by every social construct in the world — religion, government, and their environments. You think of arrests, kito incidents, conversion practices, and deviation from what society classifies as ‘the right kind of love.’ But beyond these challenges, they are so much more. They are like Alex, who advocates for queer rights as an activist. Or Dolapo, a community builder helping others find safe spaces to understand their sexuality. And a writer and researcher like Ayodele, who brings the reality of queer lives to light through the written word.
They are people allowing the power of love to ‘take off their masks,’ just like you and me.
As the creative team set up around the location, the beauty and humanity of these vibrant individuals who have dedicated everything to elevating the lives of queer people in Nigeria captivated me. Ayodele Olofintuade, a celebrated non-binary writer, researcher, and journalist, has published works on lesbianism in Nigeria globally, as well as pieces on Yoruba spirituality. Alexandra Maduagwu is a non-binary creative who seeks to create meaningful experiences that change people’s behaviours. They are a performer, creative entrepreneur, storyteller, and human rights activists with TIERS. And Dolapo Osunsina is a community organiser and legal advocate at hFactor, one of the leading collectives and organisers of the ballroom scene in Lagos. She prides herself as a body linguist, spiritual activist, and lesbian.
As they took turns as interviewer and interviewee, they generously offered a glimpse into their lives, revealing the beauty and resilience that lie within the humanity of queer people. With courage and vulnerability, they shared their stories, dispelling stereotypes and illuminating the richness of their experiences.
In their stories, we see not just their struggles, but their triumphs, dreams, and the undeniable essence of their humanity. We see individuals who are more than their queer identity, individuals who embrace their full selves and inspire others to do the same. They remind us that love, in all its forms, is the force that dismantles masks and brings us closer to our true selves. Their journey is a testament to the power of authenticity, community, and the relentless pursuit of a world where everyone can live freely and fully.
In 2014, they passed the SSMPA Bill, which we’ve been fighting for years, and we had to come out. They were saying, “There are no gay people in Nigeria.” But excuse me, I am gay. – Ayodele Olofintuade.
Journeys of resilience and navigating being queer in Nigeria
Alex, Dolapo, and Ayodele highlight their paths from societal pressures and personal challenges to self-discovery, creative exploration, and activism within the context of their queer identities in Nigeria.
Q: What has been your journey growing up in Nigeria?
Alex: I’m coming from Enugu State. My family lives there, and I am the first of four kids. I went to school in Owerri and Enugu and then moved to Lagos. I went to a boarding school in Owerri, but that’s not why I’m gay. Before boarding school, I had crushes, so I was already wondering. I knew I could feel attraction, but I didn’t know what was “wrong” or “right” according to society until I went to secondary school.
Then it became a big deal because there was the added layer of temptation which was masculine. When you present the idea of being masculine as someone who isn’t a man, people automatically assume that you’re a lesbian. Some people were not gay and were masculine, but they also put them on the list of lesbians to punish. This was even though I hadn’t fully manifested my sexuality yet.
However, the victimisation that arose because of my presentation also formed how I was thinking and moving through the world, which was in a very repressed manner. I always felt wrong about something.
When I went to university, I felt a bit more free. I could explore myself, and explore what I liked and didn’t like. Coming from a place of repression, you know what you like and what you don’t like. You can’t even voice that out. At university, I was exploring my sexuality. I started dancing — something I wasn’t supposed to be doing besides my already problematic presentation, as well as the feelings I was having. That was another layer of wrongness to the whole thing, but it didn’t matter as much anymore.
I felt like I had a bit more agency. I was studying Biochemistry, which was in itself, another suppressive and restrictive environment. It felt like they had to impose dress codes, and some morality ideas into people who were scientists. I don’t know where they got the idea that ‘sciences should be moral,’ and artists should be immoral. But what even is moral and immoral?
If I am wearing a skirt, and you’re wearing trousers, and you’re sexually harassing me because you have power over me as a lecturer (which was something that happened a lot in that university), what then is moral? You’re saying that I need to wear a skirt to be moral, and you’re harassing me, and you’re still the one telling me what is moral and immoral?
Those confusions also still coloured my experience in university and made me a bit more averse to society’s definitions of morality. It was not adding up. But it gave me room to figure out what morality was for myself, and what I wanted out of life. I wanted to make those decisions. This informed the steps I took after university. I wanted to do my youth service program far away from home, where I could think outside the pressures of society, parents, nuclear and extended family, etc. Coming to Lagos gave me that room. I had all these career options, but I had to consider my being queer and Nigerian homophobia for a place where I could be myself.
I had to pigeonhole my options to the arts, ironically. I moved into the arts, which gave me room to question some more things about society and what it deemed “normal.”
But even in that art space, there was a bit of tokenism, where they took advantage of queer people to gain grants and recognition. I had to pivot again and find another space, where I could talk about the things I was experiencing as a queer person, and contribute to whatever movement existed to make society a better place for queer people so that they could choose what they wanted to do and not have limited options, which led me to activism, which is where I am at right now. I know I am going somewhere from here, where I’ll explore arts and creativity some more because that’s who I am.
Dolapo: I started as a lawyer. I practised in the UK and I practise here in Lagos. In Nigerian society, you either pick the inventor (your engineer), the healer (your doctor), or the lawyer (your advocates).
I realised during my journey of transitioning that I am an advocate, but did not necessarily want to be a lawyer. So I gave up law and went into the arts. I am creative, and I have all these different passions and interests, and I want to explore them. I realised I needed a space to explore that in, and that’s how hFactor came about. hFactor was just a space to do what I wanted and be creative. Create stuff and experiences, meet people, and facilitate other people’s creative dreams and ambitions. I ‘came out’ in 2017, and I decided in 2019 I wanted to host queer events and queer-centred activities in the space. I did this because I wanted to be openly queer, and I couldn’t be openly queer in a lot of spaces here.
Like Alex said earlier, even in the arts spaces, there were limitations, and all those people couldn’t communicate in my body’s language. I didn’t feel comfortable in those spaces, so, hFactor was where I built my world with words and practice. That was how hFactor came to be and where I’m at now.
Ayodele: Well, I come from a place where I’ve always felt…odd, but not within familial ties. I have always fit right in with my extended family. My grandmother and great-grandmother are all very odd people, and even my mother too, though I watch with horror as she is becoming more conservative in her nineties.
(Group chuckles)
But my mother always knew I was a lesbian. They did all forms of deliverance for me when she caught me having sex with a girl. Others were shocked, but she asked, “Why do you have to come out now?” because the SSMPA Bill had just been passed. My mother had me because I was supposed to be the “girl.” She had made all the sacrifices she was to have a girl she could control. Unfortunately, I became just like her, my grandmother and my great-grandmother. My great-grandmother was an Oluwoye in Abeokuta and a Babalawo until her death.
I found myself in odd positions at home and then in the larger society, and they had pigeonholes. I went and got married, but only for 6 months. I had my first child at 24/25, and he has grown up into such an amazing creative himself. For the son of a woman who is ‘out,’ he is such an amazing child, and I am lucky to have him.
He was the one who got most of the bullying in school, particularly from secondary school, when he searched about me online and saw my videos. He was attending a conservative Christian school, and he couldn’t come home to tell us how he was faring. This also added to the fact that his other peers knew about me as well when he was at UNIBEN.
My younger child is a bit more radical than their elder brother. They are very sure of who they are in this world, and they understand bullying and how to push back.
So, when you ask me where I am coming from, I can’t show you an exact pivot point. I know in 2014; they passed the SSMPA Bill, which we’ve been fighting for years, and we had to come out. They were saying, “There are no gay people in Nigeria.” But excuse me, I am gay.
And that’s the weird thing about the government. A bunch of us went to the House of Assembly and we said, “You can’t pass this bill because we are gay, and we are here. We are right under your nose.” But then, the 2015 elections were coming, and they needed someone to bully, and that was us.
Where am I coming from to be here? I don’t know, to be honest. It’s been a long dream and I don’t seem to be waking up from it. I just realised it’s my dream, and I can do whatever I want. And that’s what I am doing with it now.
As a queer community, we are on that journey towards loving ourselves a bit more every day, so love has to be at the core of everything. – Dolapo Osunsina.
Beyond identity: Defining moments and core values as queer activists in Nigeria
Dolapo, Alex, and Ayodele share pivotal moments in their lives that shaped their identities: from winning the “Miss Black Person” award and discovering purpose to joining a dance crew and defying societal norms, to leading during the Occupy Nigeria protest and finding power in their voice and actions.
Q: Can you share a defining moment that shaped you?
Dolapo: It was when I won the “Miss Black Person” award back at university. It made me realise I have a purpose in life. I didn’t necessarily have the will to win, but I won it. From a very young age, we instinctively lean towards what we are destined to do, whether we are aware of it or not. Winning the competition was a stepping stone and encouragement to pursue my dreams.
Alex: I can relate to this! For me, it wasn’t until I joined a dance crew at university that I realised what agency meant, and what it means to choose your path and go against the norm. No one was expecting someone studying Biochemistry to be in a dance crew, because traditionally it doesn’t correlate. I was going against the norm in so many ways. Most of the people in my dance crew were guys. I was the only other “non-man” until another “non-man” joined us. Being part of that dance crew helped me step out of the norms expected of what men or women were supposed to do. Stepping outside of that gave me a sense of self.
Ayodele: For me, I come from a non-traditional home, in the sense that everyone lived in one big compound. I was never aware there were “certain behaviours” expected from people until I came into the “big bad world” and everyone began telling me what I should do with my life.
However, I’d say my defining moment for me was the Occupy Nigeria protest in 2014. That day, I stepped out of my house, got to the protest grounds, and saw it was in shambles. I went to the frontline and took charge, and people listened. I went to the front of the Ibadan secretariat that day and lay down in front of the gate, demanding the governor come out, and he did. That was the moment I realised that there’s nothing I want I can’t get once I use my voice. And no one can shut me up.
We have been trained to be nice without being trained to be kind. When I can respect myself, I can then respect other people. – Ayodele Olfintuade.
Foundations of identity: Exploring core values in personal and professional life
Dolapo, Alex, and Ayodele share the core values shaping their lives: love and trust for Dolapo, integrity and trust for Alex, and respect, self-respect, and kindness for Ayodele.
Q: What core values guide you in your personal and professional life?
Dolapo: Love and trust are my core values. Love for me is the answer to everything. Especially since, as a queer community, we are on that journey towards loving ourselves a bit more every day, so love has to be at the core of everything. Trust is also important because to sustain each other, there has to be that element of trust. Building trust and creating spaces where we can build that trust is important to everything I am.
Alex I get that, and that makes total sense! I think trust is also one of my core values, as well as integrity. For me, they go hand in hand. Integrity means that people can trust your word as your bond. Considering my personal experiences with the community and people I’ve moved with, I know for sure that I have to put integrity first. It is so important that when I see you not having integrity in the smaller things; I know it will cascade into the bigger things, and I will steer clear of you.
Ayodele: These days, my number one value is respect. When you respect yourself and respect other people. Some people come into communities expecting safe spaces, but I always correct them to say, “You can be the community. You can create a safe space for yourself. Others create a safe space for themselves, and then it cascades into love, truthfulness, and honesty. You should be able to look at yourself in the mirror and admit to your wrongdoings. People don’t even understand how powerful it is. We have been trained to be nice without being trained to be kind. When I can respect myself, I can then respect other people.
It’s like opening the floodgates to yourself to say I am human! I deserve respect, which means you deserve respect, too. I’ll treat you the way I want to be treated.
Our shared queerness has also helped shape so many values and experiences in ways that people outside the community won’t be able to understand – Alexandra Maduagwu
Bonding through queer culture and shared experiences
They explore the bonds within the queer community through shared experiences like raving and ballroom events, highlighting the camaraderie, joy, and transformative power of these gatherings in their lives.
Q: What common experiences have brought you closer together in the community?
Ayodele: Being queer!!!! We were discussing how to toast women the other time, and Dolapo was saying, “I am direct,” in a husky tone.
Alex: (laughs), I don’t do that, however. I am just in the corner looking at the girls and thinking, “You’re so cute.” (chuckles) After that, I’d wait and pray for the day that brings us together, just because I like the slow burn of things.
I would also say being queer too, because that’s why we are here. But because we’ve been in so many spaces together, we’ve been able to talk about things we believe in and share. Our shared queerness has also helped shape so many values and experiences in ways that people outside the community won’t understand. But raving would be there too.
Dolapo: Exactly, because we’re all organisers. We all work with each other and do community dialoguing. We’ve done so many things together.
Ayodele: You know, I never realised that we have done so many things!!!
(they all laugh)
Alex: (in a playful tone) Look at us, having a community. That’s cute!
Celebrating community, performance, and personal growth
Our subjects capture the exhilaration and joy found in attending balls and raving events within the queer community, celebrating the transformative performances and communal unity experienced.
Q: What’s your memorable ball or raving experience?
Dolapo: The balls are the best. They are surreal. I’ve never felt anything like the balls, man. Oh my God.
Alex: And everybody’s energy is 100 percent. The audience to the judges and the performances, there’s this synergy, and you’re witnessing performances you wouldn’t see anywhere else. These are everyday people you meet outside who seem to have different personas, and they climb on stage and become entirely different people. Not to talk of you in the audience screaming your head off like a fan girl.
The last two balls, I was in front and you can even see me in all the videos. I was screaming! Surreal is truly the word.
Dolapo: It is beautiful because that’s where you see all the different communities coming together and bridging.
Alex: Exactly! And no one is talking of the economic downturn or life as we know it. People are all there, just basking in the community with love.
(They all laugh)
I also appreciate being recognised for the work we do and doing the work as well. Our relationships, our community, it’s been an amazing journey. – Dolapo Osunsina.
Beyond queerness: Celebrating achievements and community bonds
Reflecting on the interconnectedness and support within their community, they explore recent sources of joy while highlighting personal achievements.
Q: What has given you the most joy recently?
Ayodele: Being here! It’s crazy! I love being here, I also love the energy! It has given me a lot of joy! Also, being at this point in my life has given me joy. It’s been such an amazing experience for me. I am loving every bit of my life.
Alex: I love that for you. I love that for you so much!
Ayodele: Thank you!
Alex: For me, as Dolapo said earlier, it’s the balls. I love to watch the performances, my God. I love to watch people sing, dance, and act. Also, getting to watch random people do things that are mind-blowing and amazing, let loose, be free, adopt different personas, and bend the rules. Being with my friends and loved ones who also share the same emotions as well is fantastic.
Dolapo: Same thing here. Going to the balls, and meeting someone new (*chuckles*), this experience for me is huge. I also appreciate being recognised for the work we do and doing the work as well. Our relationships, our community, it’s been an amazing journey.
I think serving your community, making sure that someone else has it easier than you did for being queer in a society that is actively targeting them, is something to be very proud of. – Alexandra Maduagwu.a.
Q: Away from being queer, what are you most proud of?
Dolapo: I would say building communities has been a major thing for me. But everything is centred around my queerness, though.
Alex and Ayodele agree in unison.
Dolapo: You know, it’s so difficult to not speak about my queerness about my life.
Ayo: It’s the queerness that brings out all that brilliance. You learn how to colour outside the lines; how to do things to keep yourself safe, and you have to be very creative in doing those things.
Dolapo: I had to create a safe space for myself so that I could create a safe space for others, and once I could create a safe space for other people, I realised I could build a community. So for me, it’s about building safe spaces and communities for others.
Alex: I cannot remove my queerness. It’s intertwined with everything. But I think my biggest achievements won’t be one thing in my life, but everything that has led up to this moment. The odds were stacked against me, but I could build the life that I have right now, build the community and friendships, and even the family because I had to cut out the parts that didn’t agree with who I was and retain the parts that were good, kind, true and loving.
I don’t have any of that false family that pretends. I love my job and I am passionate about it. I think my job is real and important, not that other jobs aren’t important, but in the grand scheme of things, capitalism makes some things important that just aren’t.
However, I think serving your community, making sure that someone else has it easier than you did for being queer in a society that is actively targeting them, is something to be very proud of. That’s why I respect both of you, and I respect myself for being here, and that’s my biggest achievement.
Ayodele: My biggest achievement would be my [adopted] children. I have so many of them, and they keep bringing more children home. I would also include my family, as well as my two biological children. I see them, and I am astonished that I raised all these kids in this country, and they are so queer. They are proud to be themselves and can have hard conversations, yell at each other, and still be warm to one another afterwards. I built my career out of nothing. When I wanted to publish “Lákíríboto (Lesbian) Chronicles”, nobody wanted to publish it, because what does lákíríboto mean? How can I publish a book called Lesbian? But it now has worldwide recognition and has been published outside the country.
So many things come to mind, but the most recent achievement I have is the community that taught me to do “Adire Eleko” from people who have the ancient knowledge of the craft and have the Orisha that does the authentic version. Everyone learnt it within 24 hours and it’s like “Woah, you guys are designing.” This achievement wasn’t for me alone, but for an entire community of people. So many people have helped me along the way.
It’s like a game of pinball where you pull the string and the ball hits back in numerous places. That’s what I consider when you’re in a community with people. Even people you don’t know, or you meet only once. You don’t necessarily have to be in the same house or party with them. They are your people. There is nothing I have done that I have achieved to say I did it myself. I achieved everything with a community.
It is amazing how we are doing this journey together – sometimes in tandem, other times in dissonance, but we are flowing and moving. – Ayodele Olofintuade.
Embracing queer communities in Nigeria
Dolapo, Alex, and Ayodele explore the deep gratitude they feel towards their queer communities, sharing how it has provided them with acceptance, growth, and a sense of purpose amidst societal challenges, and emphasising the transformative power of community support and personal reflection.
Q: What is the one thing you are grateful for in your journeys and stories?
Dolapo: I am grateful for this community. It has offered me a space where I can be and express myself. It has made me accountable and has given me room for growth.
A lot of the work we do doesn’t have a political agenda, but it’s political by nature because when queer people decide to come together, it becomes political. It [the community] has given me so much in terms of friendship and spirituality. My spiritual growth has been exponential in this community, as well as my sense of purpose and being allowed to be all I am, with zero restrictions.
The lack of restrictions is very essential in the “becoming” stage. It allows you to accept yourself, and it is through accepting yourself that it responds to that acceptance of yourself. This is what the queer community has given to me. I think that’s the one thing I’m most grateful for. I didn’t know that was achievable here in Nigeria. For us, we are all builders so we can do it wherever we go, but the fact that we can do it here? We’re good.
Alex: I am grateful for my person, and all the decisions I have made from day 1 to make me who I am today. I am proud of myself and the community I have attracted based on my personality. I am grateful that my outside environment reflects who I am on the inside.
Ayodele: I guess it is the community for me too, both inside and out. Without community, I wouldn’t be anywhere. This is the first community I am in where they talk about traumatisation, and I’ve never heard of it before in my life. I have heard about it, but I never had to relate it to somebody or examine myself before joining. This community has made me put a mirror to my face. I am grateful to everyone I have come across. I am grateful to everyone and myself. I am thankful to myself.
It is amazing how we are doing this journey together – sometimes in tandem, other times in dissonance, but we are flowing and moving. It’s also a fun community as well. You can do anything (except harm somebody else), and you can be the fullest expression of yourself. When you’re coming from a place where people judge you for your wealth or social status, I am just so grateful.
It is not safe anywhere, and you need to be very specific about how safety looks like for you when you come out. It is a struggle every day for people to live as their truest selves. – Alexandra Maduagwu.
Wisdom and safety in queer journeys
Q: What’s your advice to someone struggling with an identity crisis?
Ayodele: Caveat — if you’re under 18, you’re NOT gay. You’ve not experienced half of what it means to have [sexual] pleasure. You’re not old enough to experience [sexual] pleasure. The pleasure you should be experiencing now is food, playing (or fighting) with your age mates, and learning to be street smart.
Your brain doesn’t even develop fully until you are 25/26. You’re still a baby, not a sex toy for an older person to play with. You’re non-binary at this stage because you don’t even know if you’re male or female yet. You have both characteristics in you.
Another caveat — please my babies, stay inside that closet until your parents have sent you to school and taken good care of you because it is HARD out on the streets. You have to do whatever it is to survive and thrive. Get the best out of your parents. This is what they call “working smart.” You don’t have to work so hard at this age.
At a tender age, you’re not gay. You’re just a baby exploring the world. No adult should teach you at that age whether you’re gay or not, because adults can take advantage of you. Some people can be very weird, and prey on young people regardless of their sex or gender identity. It can be emotionally or physically. I don’t want you in that position, especially in this country where, in broad daylight, they married off 100 girls.
Stay in school, stay at home, stay with your parents. Even if the world looks like it is ending, it is not. When you’re 21 and armed with the right choices, you have the time to explore every inch of who you are. But for adults who are still in their closets, poisoning their spouses and cheating because of their sexuality, I feel so sorry for you. You have chosen such a difficult life for no reason.
Alex: You know, it’s very important you highlight that people should stay and take advantage of what they can because I was going to say that you should prioritise your safety.
Let nobody fool you. The fact that there’s more visibility and representation and more speaking engagements on these realities doesn’t mean that you should go headfirst into it. It’s for you to soak up this information. Spend your formative years thinking about it, exploring yourself with the right information, and staying clear of spaces where adults can prey on you. This is something that happens everywhere, especially in places shrouded in darkness.
This is darkness because they don’t want you to tell anyone about the experience. Even if you’re harassed or abused, you can’t tell anyone about it. It’s hard on the streets. Prioritise your safety, and you have to be SMART. As you’re exploring, don’t come out to people willy-nilly when you don’t have financial security, education, or a life plan. This is because society is actively trying to mess you up. The more marginalised your identity is, the more society wants to mess you up. So you have to be smart in gauging society. Ask yourself — what can I get out of this situation? Even if you’re being abused at home (and I’m not advocating for staying in abusive spaces), society right now is not equipped with the right tools to respond to survivors of abuse or conversion practices in family homes.
So, if you’re under 18, and you’re experiencing conversion practices already because your parents found out that you’re exploring your sexuality, it becomes a very complex situation, because where can you go?
As much as possible, hold on to that closet until you’ve sorted out where you’re going, what your next steps are, and what they will look like. Even a lot of adults are suffering right now, being victimised by their neighbours or landlords — not even their parents anymore — it is now their environment they’re being victimised in.
Plan where you’ll live, how your schooling is going to look like, how you’ll feed when you move out or if your parents kick you out. Be specific about where you live because even gated estates these days are not safe. It is not safe anywhere, and you need to be very specific about what safety looks like for you when you come out. It is a struggle every day for people to live as their truest selves. Spend time building the foundation for how that is going to look like, and when that is done, then by all means, fly, soar. Don’t stay where anybody can hold on to you. Don’t let anyone hold on to your power. Your power is yours.
Dolapo: So I know people that didn’t have a similar background to me may not relate to my advice, but when I was coming out, I didn’t ask anyone’s permission to be gay. I am what I am. When I was coming out, I sort of imposed myself on my family. They were claiming to be conservative but progressive, and I was like, “Okay, let’s see how that looks.” Unfortunately, they didn’t take it so well, but I refused to make myself small. I refused to be myself. I couldn’t even be anything other than myself, even though I was uncomfortable with bringing my girlfriend to functions. I didn’t introduce her as my girlfriend, but they knew she was my person.
I was uncomfortable, but I just had to be me. If I couldn’t be that in my home, in my family, and I didn’t stand a chance outside in the world. Having that confidence in yourself, and making it such that it’s not necessarily about your sexuality, but as a person loving yourself. Trying to love yourself despite everything is how the rest of the world will relate to you. If you self-loathe, that is how the world will respond to you. Faking it until you get there is important, as well as standing up for yourself.
I refer to the queer community as the divine community. We are chosen because we are healers. Relating in that way with your identity helps you see how you add value to this world. To find community, you need to find people who reflect who you are. Affirming your identity with people around you helps you to accept yourself and gives you a safe space for you to exist in.
