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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tMainstream Nigerian feminism has an inclusion problem \u2014 and queer women are paying the price<\/p>\n
Photo used by Marie Claire for illustrative purposes. (Photo courtesy of FreePik and Marie Claire \u2014 Nigeria)
\nThe Nigerian edition of Marie Claire is shining a light on how Nigerian feminists exclude queer women:
\nBy\u00a0Oyindamola Adebiyi
\nIn August 2024, Abuja Area Mama \u2014 a\u00a0transgender\u00a0woman known for her bold online presence \u2014 was\u00a0found dead\u00a0by the roadside in Abuja. Her body bore clear signs of\u00a0brutal violence, a final, horrifying chapter in a life that had already been marked by repeated attacks. Even in death, her dignity was stripped away as graphic images of her corpse circulated online, turning her last moments into a spectacle instead of a victim deserving of justice.
\nShe had spoken openly about\u00a0surviving violence\u00a0\u2014 about being stabbed, about navigating a country where her existence made her a target. This time, she did not survive. Her murder shook Nigeria\u2019s LGBTQ+ community. But beyond that, the national response was\u00a0muted, fragmented, and in some cases, disturbingly cruel. For many, her identity overshadowed her humanity and the respect she deserved to be treated with. That is precisely the problem with feminism in our country.
\nFor queer people in Nigeria, especially those who exist outside society\u2019s narrow expectations of womanhood, violence is normalised.
\nA queer person smiling as they pose with a pride flag behind them. (Photo by Molly The Cat courtesy of Unsplash)Who gets to be protected?<\/p>\n
Feminist\u00a0advocacy in Nigeria has made undeniable strides. Conversations around\u00a0sexual violence,\u00a0workplace discrimination, and\u00a0reproductive rights\u00a0have become more mainstream. Yet, protection, in practice, is not evenly distributed.
\nQueer women \u2014\u00a0lesbians,\u00a0bisexual women, trans women \u2014 exist at the intersection of\u00a0gender-based oppression\u00a0and sexuality-based persecution. Their experiences of violence are often more severe, less talked about, and just as dangerous. However, when harm befalls them, their stories often go ignored, dismissed, or demoralised.
\nConsider cases like the two trans women who were\u00a0injured and put behind bars\u00a0at Port Harcourt Prison in 2023 after a group of local youths targeted and raided their hair salon, leading to their subsequent arrest by Nigerian police. They were reportedly targeted because of their sexuality, alongside numerous undocumented incidents of mob attacks, forced outings, and so-called \u201ccorrective\u201d violence.
\nMany victims remain unnamed \u2014 not because they do not exist, but because society has refused to fully accept or acknowledge their identities. The question remains: who gets to be considered \u201cwoman enough\u201d to deserve protection?
\nPride, identity, and the right to exist
\nPride\u00a0in one\u2019s identity is a celebration, but it can also warrant protecting oneself from others. Living in your truest form can be an act of survival. It requires embracing yourself, your history, and your culture while also advocating for equality, visibility, and acceptance.
\nWithin the\u00a0LGBTQ+ community, pride represents self-acceptance and empowerment. For many queer women in Nigeria, that journey is fraught with danger. Choosing to live authentically can mean risking family rejection, social isolation, or violence.
\nIn this context, pride becomes resistance. It is a refusal to shrink, a declaration of humanity in a society that often denies it.\u00a0Feminism, if it is truly about liberation, must align with that resistance and not distance itself from it.<\/p>\n
Two black women with their faces unseen. (Natalia Blauth photo courtesy of Marie Claire and Unsplash)\u00a0
\nThe law, impunity, and the cost of exclusion
\nNigeria\u2019s\u00a0Same-Sex Marriage (Prohibition) Act\u00a0(SSMPA), enacted in 2014, has had consequences far beyond its stated purpose. According to \u201cTell Me Where I Can Be Safe,\u201d a Human Rights Watch report, the law has enabled widespread abuse \u2014 including extortion, arbitrary arrests, mob violence, torture, and sexual assault.
\nIt has also created a dangerous culture of impunity. Perpetrators of violence often act with the assumption that queer victims will not seek justice, or will not be believed if they do. The law has effectively sanctioned a social environment where abuse can thrive unchecked.
\nNigerian activist Bisi Alimi has pointed out another devastating consequence: the law doesn\u2019t just target queer people \u2014 it also affects those who try to support them. When services are restricted, especially around HIV care, entire communities are put at risk.
\nFor queer women, this means navigating a system that fails to protect them and also, in many ways, refuses to legitimise their vulnerability.
\nNigeria\u2019s 1999 Constitution guarantees the right to life, dignity, and security for all citizens. These rights are not conditional.
\nYet in reality, queer women are often excluded from these protections \u2014 socially, legally, and even within feminist spaces.
\nFeminism cannot afford to replicate this exclusion.
\nFeminist rights must extend to all who identify as female \u2014 lesbians, bisexual women, trans women, and gender non-conforming individuals who experience gender-based oppression.
\nAnything less is not feminism; it becomes something that mimics the same patriarchal tools we aim to dismantle.
\n See Also<\/p>\n
Violence in the digital age is evolving, not disappearing<\/p>\n
As physical spaces became more hostile, many queer Nigerians turned to the internet for connection and community. But even that refuge has been infiltrated.
\n\u201cKito\u201d \u2014 a term used to describe the entrapment and blackmail of queer individuals \u2014 has become increasingly common. Perpetrators pose as potential partners on dating platforms, only to extort, assault, or expose their victims.
\nInvestigations\u00a0by BBC Africa Eye have shown how these schemes operate with alarming precision. Victims are lured into meetings, ambushed, beaten, and threatened with exposure to their families or employers. While many survivors remain anonymous for safety reasons, their stories reveal a consistent pattern: queer women are not exempt. They are targeted, assaulted, and silenced \u2014 often with even fewer avenues for justice.
\nIn some\u00a0reported cases,\u00a0victims have been stripped naked, filmed, and blackmailed. Others experienced physical assaults or detention against their will until money transfers occurred. The psychological toll is just as severe as the physical violence. And yet, these crimes rarely spark national outrage.
\nThe brutality of violence does not lessen because its victim is queer. If anything, the silence surrounding it makes it more dangerous.
\nThe move toward a more inclusive movement requires expanding the table
\nThere has been a visible rise in female-only spaces,\u00a0programs, and communities across Nigeria \u2014 from professional networks and funding initiatives to safe spaces for survivors of abuse. These platforms are doing important work. They are helping women build economic power, access opportunities, and find solidarity in a society that often marginalises them. But there is more to be done.
\nAn\u00a0inclusive feminist future\u00a0requires more than creating spaces for women \u2014 it requires creating space for all women. To move forward, feminist communities must:<\/p>\n
Intentionally include queer women in their programs and conversations.
\nEstablish clear protections against discrimination.
\nAmplify the voices and lived experiences of queer women.
\nChallenge internal biases that mirror societal prejudice.<\/p>\n
Inclusion is not optional; it is essential, especially now when Nigeria is at a critical point. Feminist conversations are growing louder, and more women are demanding change. However, growth requires honesty. A feminism that excludes queer women is incomplete. It leaves behind those who are often most vulnerable, most silenced, and most in need of protection.
\nThe crime of abuse or death is no less barbaric because its victim is queer. Every Nigerian citizen deserves protection under the law, regardless of sexual orientation.
\nNigeria\u2019s constitution also guarantees the right to life and dignity for all its citizens \u2014 regardless of religion.\u00a0 If feminism in Nigeria is to stand for justice truly, it must confront its exclusions because liberation that leaves queer women behind is not liberation at all.<\/p>\n