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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\u2018I had no pride left\u2019, he tells his free, non-judgmental Qtalk counselor<\/p>\n
LGBTQ+ Nigerians benefit from the support provided by volunteer counselors via the Qtalk app, which is supported by this site and by the\u00a0St. Paul\u2019s Foundation for International Reconciliation. Download Qtalk from\u00a0Google Play\u00a0or the\u00a0Apple Store.
\nThis series presents their stories. For Qtalk users\u2019 security, they are identified only with pseudonyms.<\/p>\n
In a cramped hostel room on the edge of a federal university in Nigeria, Prosper learned how quickly laughter can turn cruel. He was 21, soft spoken, careful with his hands when he spoke. Students clapped when he walked past. They mocked his voice. They called him names meant to wound.
\n\u201cThey used to clap when I walked past,\u201d he wrote months later, describing the memory in a late-night message. \u201cThey would say, \u2018Show us how you talk again.\u2019 Sometimes they pushed me, just to see me react. I started to feel like I was not even a person in that place.\u201d
\nThe teasing grew into open harassment. He stopped going to lectures. He stayed in his room with the lights off. Sleep came only with pills.
\n\u201cI needed something to quiet my head,\u201d he wrote. \u201cA friend offered drugs. At first it was to sleep. Then it was to forget.\u201d
\nOne night he overdosed. A roommate found him. His parents took him home and arranged counseling. Prosper sat through those sessions without speaking openly. The advice he received was about prayer and discipline. He felt judged and afraid.
\n\u201cI sat there like a ghost,\u201d he recalled.
\nMonths later, alone in his room, he searched online and found Qtalk. He stared at the blank chat window before typing his first words.
\n\u201cHello. I don\u2019t know if this place is safe.\u201d
\nThe reply was simple and calm. He was told he could share at his own pace. No one rushed him. No one told him to hide who he was. Prosper said that single exchange loosened something tight in his chest.
\nThe conversations were slow at first. He described the hostel corridor, the laughter, the fear of being seen. He spoke about the overdose, about waking up in a hospital bed, about the shame he carried home with him.
\n\u201cI feel like I am a mistake,\u201d he wrote one night.
\nThe counselor did not argue or preach. They asked him to talk about what had happened and how it made him feel. They helped him name the bullying for what it was. They asked about moments in his life when he had felt proud, safe, or respected. Prosper struggled to remember. He finally wrote about a debate prize he won in secondary school.
\n\u201cI forgot that boy,\u201d he wrote about himself.
\nOver weeks of text exchanges, he and the counselor worked through memories that Prosper had buried. They discussed how shame can grow in silence. They talked about internalized fear and about ways to stay safe in hostile spaces. When panic rose, the counselor guided him through breathing exercises, asking him to describe his surroundings and slow his thoughts.
\nHe confessed that he still kept pills hidden in his bag.
\n\u201cI am afraid if I throw them away, I will need them,\u201d he typed.
\nThe counselor helped him build a plan. They agreed on small steps. He would remove the drugs from his room. He would message when cravings grew strong. He would list people he could trust and places he could go if he felt unsafe. Each step was written down and returned to in later sessions.
\n\u201cNo one had ever asked me how to stay alive,\u201d Prosper said in one message. \u201cThey only told me how to behave.\u201d
\n See Also<\/p>\n
The hardest part came when he spoke about his sexuality. He typed the words slowly.
\n\u201cI think I am gay. I hate myself for it.\u201d
\nThe counselor answered without judgment, reminding him that his worth was not defined by insults or fear. Prosper said he stared at the screen for a long time before replying.
\n\u201cNo one had told me that before,\u201d he wrote. \u201cI cried, but this time it was relief.\u201d
\nMonths passed. Prosper began to sleep without drugs. He returned to class. He answered questions again. He told his parents about the bullying. They did not understand everything, but they listened. His father sent a short message that Prosper shared on Qtalk.
\n\u201cHe wrote, \u2018We love you. We are learning.\u2019 I cried again, but it felt lighter.\u201d
\nAt 24, Prosper is sober, but still checks in on Qtalk every now and then. However, the conversations are quieter now. They talk about work, about friendships, about the fear that sometimes returns without warning. He has learned how to notice the warning signs and how to ask for help.
\n\u201cYou did not save me,\u201d he wrote to his counselor recently. \u201cYou helped me see myself.\u201d
\nAcross campuses and towns in Nigeria, many queer young people search for care that sees them without judgment. For Prosper, healing began with a blinking cursor on a phone screen and a stranger who answered with patience.
\n\u201cI am not ashamed of who I am,\u201d he wrote in his final message of the year. \u201cI am still here. That is my victory.\u201d
\nTo support the free Qtalk project financially, click HERE.<\/p>\n