In a country where clerics use the pulpit for anti-gay slur, anti-corruption homilies, and political campaigns on behalf of their preferred politicians, advocacy on the relationship between environmental justice and human rights is neither a priority for most civil society groups nor a point of concern for most faith-based groups in Uganda. Usually, we talk of protecting the environment and we miss the fact that environmental justice and human rights are co-dependent. Whereas most human rights activists would agree to the interconnectedness of all forms of oppression and human rights abuses, LGBT activists are yet to join the global campaign for what is evidently one of biggest human rights challenges of our time. Are we chanting on the side of “LGBT rights are human rights” more than we are on the side of “Human rights are LGBT rights?”
While struggling to find an explanation to why most sexual minorities in Uganda (this includes LGBTs and sex workers), some of the world’s most endangered populations, live in slums – usually in the suburbs of big towns and cities, it was not until much later that I came to a conviction that this happens for two reasons. First, because of communal living most often characterized by rural life wherein it’s a neighbor’s business to know if a neighbor’s daughter is married and to whom, we are experiencing an exodus of LGBTs persons from the countryside to big cities. Second, most LGBTs, even those in the middle-class, face multiple-tier discrimination while seeking employment.
Reacting to Rolling Stone’s outings in 2011, Ugandan activist Frank Mugisha reported that several members of the community lost employment due to the “name and shame” absurdity of the tabloid which, until a high court ruling in Kasha Jacqueline et al Vs The Rolling Stone (Uganda), continued to haunt LGBT persons.
Both explanations for why most members of our community are either homeless or inhabit some of the country’s worst slums, imply that LGBT persons are victims of poor and life-threatening housing conditions. For many members of our community, the most affordable housing they can find is in slum areas which are characterized by poor garbage collection systems (if any), poor sanitation, lack of safe water and most commonly found in flooded areas. Rampant use of environmentally unfriendly substances such as nicotine and marijuana among LGBT and sex worker communities as caused by increasing homophobia is crucial to the campaign for environmental justice. As such, our community is part of the big environmental justice debate which largely weighs in on why the world’s oppressed usually turn out to be the world’s poorest and the world’s environmentally oppressed thus lending credence to my observation that LGBT rights are off the map of the global campaign for environmental justice.
In most human rights debates, it is common parlance for activists to miss the fact that the rights of sexual minorities are fundamentally indispensable as far as environmental justice is concerned. Even within mainstream human rights NGOs, it’s not uncommon for human rights advocates to simply gloss over issues of environmental justice or even completely ignore them as the responsibility of the state-managed National Environmental Management Authority. The lack of recognition for human rights and the environment, as maintained by our civil society is, in my opinion, developmentally bankrupt. And of course this bankruptcy also takes flight from traditional hierarchical and patriarchal dispositions of society, the mainstay of oppression against non-hetero and non-gender compliant human sexualities. Out of a seemingly somewhat stretched observation but one that is consistent with feminist and human rights principles, environmental injustice is in many ways a function of homophobia as it is of all forms of injustices committed against humanity.
It is therefore almost impossible for recognition of LGBT rights as human rights to be fully achieved if we ignore the relationship between the human and the environment.
In the book Hope’s Edge, Frances Moore Lappe and Anna Lappe offer a useful approach to making inter-linkages between women oppression and ecological oppression. Lappe and Lappe narrate that the women of the Green Belt movement led by Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Wangari Mathaai, felt liberated from societal chains which confined them to being housewives. One woman notes that before the Green Belt, they (the women of the Green Belt), “belonged to their husbands.” “There were hardly any trees,” she says. “Now they are my trees.” The question is, how much of addressing the effect of homophobia on the environment a question of addressing the relationship between environmental injustice on LGBT rights?
If the Green Belt’s feminist sense of awareness for ecojustice and radical response to the crisis can be borrowed by sexual minority advocacy groups and if each of those groups committed to establishing an environmental project as their resources permit, the world will be ecologically transformed. Similarly, as the world moves forward with “Green advocacy,” we need to address the environmental needs of LGBT communities as well as what we can do to equip LGBT communities with resources they need to manage the ecological challenge of our time.
Understanding the interconnectedness of environmental degradation and human oppression is crucial to understanding what our role as LGBT advocates of this generation should be in ensuring that the environment is safe from oppressive human practices leading Earth to near destruction. The rights and freedoms of LGBT persons and the struggle for environmental justice are co-dependent human rights issues. For there can be no peace among the peoples without peace with the Earth.
We were told to carry tissue and that “if you are the emotional type, you might need it.” This was an admonition from Dean Miriam Gelfer which I refused to take seriously. If you know me well enough you may have noticed that it takes me a while to thaw. If I were ice, I would melt at 40 degrees Fahrenheit plus. I had completely underestimated the emotions of the day.
With commencement ceremony starting at 2 o’clock , I encountered a nervous breakdown and completely lost appetite for anything.The night before, I had failed to attend commencement prayers at chapel. When my roommate asked why I missed in action I said, “I am not feeling well today.” A picture text message with a bouquet of flowers and these words from my significant other: “I love you. Congrats…God is never a liar…you made it…I’m so proud of you” pummeled me out of bed.
Then it dawned on me that I was supposed to feel the way I felt. I realized that for the first time, I was about to wear a graduation gown having graduated from Makerere University in absentia. When I graduated from Makerere for my undergrad, my guardian was busy not wanting anything to do with “an unrepentant self-confessed lesbian rebel” who had wasted his hard-earned resources by “joining homosexual degenerates.” My story is, briefly, that during my second year at Makerere I met a group of lesbians at a local bar after which I became a founding member of the first lesbian organization in Uganda which is also arguably the first organization of the LGBT movement in the country. At 21, any parent/guardian would be terrified for their daughter pronouncing herself a lesbian activist.
May 17, 2012 felt special because I knew I had dismantled the negative expectations of my family and guardian. Above all else, I know I wouldn’t have made it if I had not done my masters at an institution that has brought the best out of me. I tell people that Episcopal Divinity School is a special place. Not only because the school has a rich tradition on radical social justice activism including anti-racism work, women’s rights, and LGBT rights but also because it’s an institution where voices get unleashed. This aspect of the school’s pedagogy is so grounded that we have a course that specifically helps students develop their voice.
A place like EDS gives you space within which to make that happen because you don’t only come here for academic rigor; you are constantly prepared to become a leader who witnesses inclusiveness, love and justice in the world. At this institution, my long-harbored conservative views on particular issues have been nudged. As an activist, I have been surprised to learn that I had not embraced the ethos of inclusive activism as my assumption held. In fact, I have learned that I have been oppressive to myself and others in extremely shocking ways. Learning to question my own privilege has been, and is, part of my journey to wholeness.
As I leave EDS, I remember the words of my mentor, Kapya Kaoma, a few days before I considered applying to the masters in theological studies program. “The LGBT movement in Africa needs professionals,” he said. ” You need to be able to speak out for yourselves instead of relying on allies to do it for you,” he continued.” The women’s movement in Africa did not begin to create change until women went back to school and got themselves educated to become professors, doctors, lawyers, feminist theologians….” As Kapya rumbled about the importance of education, I wondered how a lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person in Africa who is homeless, hungry, unemployed, abused, HIV positive can prioritize education let alone find opportunities for education when his/her own existence is threatened on a daily basis.
It was then that I learned that the cycle of oppression cannot be broken until people know what the oppressor does not want them to know. For all the oppression of LGBT persons in Africa, the objective of the oppressor is to stop them from getting the privilege of knowledge. The number one rule of oppression is: Keep everything people need to know about their liberation secret so they will continue seeing their oppression as their own fault. Rule number two: Keep people busy living for survival so they will not think of living for anything else but daily survival. Rule number three: Keep them destructed, busy being “freedom fighters” such that they will not see themselves as human beings who have a life larger than that.
Kapya intimated to me on graduation day that he sat in a meeting recently where he advocated for the importance of empowering African LGBTs with education and someone responded, “That is not our priority for LGBT rights in Africa.” Whoever made this statement said exactly what the homophobe politicians and clergy in Africa want to hear. As an alumni of EDS, Kapya knew that this institution would give me a similar experience it had given him before moving on to do his doctorate at Boston University. More else, he helped me understand the interdisciplinary study of theology and how it perfectly fits into my activism. He still teases, “How many Bibles have you read?” What he implies is, “You didn’t come to divinity school to “read bibles.” You came here to understand the politics, motivations, and language of the Religious Right so you are empowered to counter their negative theology on LGBT rights.” That is exactly what my two-year non-ordination program at EDS has been.
My research has specifically focused on studying the Christian Right and its influence on sexual rights in Africa. From the prison system to environmental justice and international conflict resolution, I selected classes that would provide me a deeper understanding of the interrelatedness and intersectionality of human rights issues. The interdisciplinary nature of my program has earned me the Alison Cheek Prize in Feminist Liberation Theologies “presented to a graduating student for activism and scholarship that reflect commitment to ending racism, sexism, heterosexism, classism, and all forms of oppression in the Church and the wider society.” In compliment to the Masters of Arts in Theological Studies I have earned the Certificate in Religion and Conflict Resolution that is awarded by the Boston Theological Institute, a consortium of ten university divinity schools and schools of theology in the Greater Boston area.
Endings and beginnings…
The next one year will be time to make preparation for further graduate study, continue my work with the movement, and to begin writing my first book which I like to describe as less of a book and more of a storytelling project.
Until I confronted my fears and began sharing my life story, it was difficult to find healing. Growing up in a conservative evangelical household did not give me room for self-acceptance and self-expression. I grew up with a fantasy of meeting someone who would tell me that God loves me just the way I am. And yet, even if this remained mere fantasy, I never came to an understanding of why I felt “different.” As my mates spent their teenage years discovering their bodies, I was caught up in self-loathing and being anti-social. It was finding people who neither judged me nor looked down on me as less of a human being that helped me find myself again. I found community and it was in this community that I first had my experience of healing and what it means to belong.
In a society where homosexuality provokes bigotry, finding spiritual and physical healing is the most difficult pursuit for LGBT communities. Because of the harsh conditions of oppression that many non-heterosexual identifying people have to endure, healing can be difficult to achieve. The good news is- it is not impossible. There is healing in the collective power of community.
As I visit more countries, I am beginning to understand that homophobia- just like all forms of oppression- is cross-cultural. While I have been witness to stories of lesbian “corrective” rape in Africa, LBGTs in the United States too do not always have it easy- they struggle to deal with homophobia and are sidelined by certain national policies. Even if our advocacy issues differ (it is same-sex marriage in the U.S and a matter of life and death in Africa), we are all caught up in a mutuality of oppression that can only be challenged by the power of collective activism.
If oppression is cross-cultural, and if it takes collective effort to fight it, then healing shares the same pattern. Many oppressed communities have found courage to wage resistance against oppression because there is power in numbers. At least this is true for LGBT communities in my country. Acknowledging the fact that the LGBT movement in Uganda was born out of people socializing in places like bars, it is a tradition that has continued to this day. Many of us who became homeless when our families ostracized us and our religious places of worship turned into houses of hate; we found self-love and healing from living as community.
In a society where we are denied the right of existence, we have constructed alternative ways of healing. Through organizing regular community gatherings and now, the latest being a group of queer musicians and fine artists who are redefining their lives through art, we have turned our predicament into undying hope. I still wonder how we are able to laugh in the midst of tribulation. Then, I am reminded that healing does not always happen only when systems of oppression are brought down. Healing is not given by the oppressor. Healing happens when the oppressed choose to change their circumstances by redefining and making their lives meaningful.
In his ministry, Jesus showed us that there can be healing of oppressed bodies even when the status quo does not permit it. Jesus healed bodies on Sabbath; he overturned the tables of money-changers and expressed his anger at the hypocrisy of Jewish-Roman merchants for turning his “Father’s house” to a den of thieves; he healed people in the most unlikely places. My reading of Mark 11-15-19 is that Jesus was not just defending his father’s house; he was furious at rich people who were amassing wealth at the expense of the poor. Whatever Jesus’s preferential option for the poor was, his ministry was fundamentally about healing. And, the spirituality of healing is essentially what the mission of today’s Church should be.
In the past several weeks of deeply thinking about what it means to have the “spirituality of healing,” I have been introduced to the interconnectedness of the body, the earth, and the spirit. Whether it is eating food that adds value to our bodies or finding a relationship with nature through photography, healing can only be achieved if we understand community as having relationship with ourselves, with nature, and with the spirit.
LGBT activists and allies are attending the David Kato Kisule (DKK) Memorial in Kampala, one year since LGBT activist and leader David Kato was murdered in his home. Kato’s friends and family, including his mother, are attending the event organized by the Uganda National LGBT Security Task Force and Sexual Minorities Uganda. I just heard from one activist on the ground:
The memorial started an hour ago. Hymns, scripture reading, prayers, and eulogies are being heard. The mood is sombre; mixture of celebrating life, remembering him and he is surely missed.
The DKK Memorial as we named it, is an event expected to be an outpouring of mixed emotions in remembrance and celebration of a man whose activism shone a light through our movement; a man whose death and the circumstances surrounding it still hurt and arouse anger; a man I respect; my father- as he always related with me.
I feel dispirited and almost failed to write this post.
One year after the murder of David Kato, I have many unanswered questions. I ask to what extent the Rolling Stone magazine played a role. Was the publication of names, pictures, and addresses of Ugandans known or suspected to be gay an end to means orchestrated by his killers?
The Rolling Stone, at the time of David Kato’s murder, was a little known bi-weekly publication “selling about 3000 copies that you had to spend time on the streets of Kampala to find a copy.” In fact, it was international media that introduced most Ugandans to the magazine and its editor Giles Muhame. “It was not even widely available outside Kampala” as one journalist observed. Knowing this, it seems more logical to argue that the Rolling Stone could have had little to do with inciting people to “Hang” a gay activist. I would like to argue that Rolling Stone’s publication of names and pictures of those known and suspected to be gay was a series of an already hatched plan to murder David Kato.
Celebrating David Kato
The death of David Kato has galvanized a breed of new activism and synergies in the Ugandan LGBT community. On my recent visit to Uganda, I met and interacted with a number of young activists and organizations whose joining the movement was a response to the death of this great activist. The movement has certainly grown bigger and stronger thanks to ongoing organizing by the Uganda Civil Society Coalition on Human Rights and Constitutional Law. It is encouraging to know that what began as a make-shift entity to respond to the Anti-Homosexuality bill has not only become proactive in action but more grounded in a multi-dimensional sexual rights advocacy. Members of the coalition feel that it is time to move Beyond the Anti-Homosexuality bill and build a movement of sexual rights activists who will influence policy and change repressive laws that hinder the freedom of sexual minorities.
The coalition is also working to achieve wider recognition in Uganda as a group of scholars, lawyers, politicians, and social justice activists. It is in the interest of the coalition to make the Ugandan LGBT movement recognized at home. So far, the struggle for LGBT rights in Uganda is more recognized abroad than it is at home. Total change will only be realized when Ugandans recognize and respect the rights of LGBT persons. We certainly need more African voices on board.
The general situation of LGBT persons in terms of security and awareness of rights has improved. What is often read and heard in international media is not what is on the ground. It is not what I saw on my recent visit. LGBT persons in Uganda are not in hiding. When people like Secretary Hilary Clinton speak out against human rights violations in Africa, they send a strong message to our governments that persecution of LGBT persons is a human rights violation. This comes with some degree of protection from the state because our governments know that the world is watching. I spoke with some activists who feel protected by the state (the Police) than ever before. Even if there’s still a lot of work to be done by government, it is important to acknowledge that today, LGBT activists can engage the police. According to a report from the Hate No More campaign launched in 2o11 by Freedom and Roam Uganda, activists have held meetings with the police and some police official have shown interest in being educated and engaged on LGBT issues.
The situation of LGBT persons in Uganda is getting better. Not worse. It is important that international allies, donors, and partners know that their support and resources are making a difference.
I am having a difficult time telling foreign journalists and bloggers that the situation of LGBT persons in Uganda is getting better. As a group of activists, we recently visited a Ugandan LGBT community living in the ghettos of a Kampala suburb called Bwaise.
Here, they have managed to organize themselves against homophobia by getting involved in community development projects and have been accepted by would-have-been homophobic heterosexuals. This LGBT ghetto community also asked me to write a story on how the BCC through their 2011 documentary on Uganda titled “The World’s Worst Place to be Gay?” and journalist Scott Mills “used” them and promised them help but forgot about them even if “the documentary made a lot of money around the world.” In their own words, this community is disappointed that foreign journalists such as Scott Mills should travel to Uganda and prey on the plight of Ugandan LGBT persons and do nothing to give back to their communities. By failing to acknowledge the progress we have made as movement (albeit still ongoing tough struggles) and continuing to label Uganda as “the world’s worst place to be gay” and ignoring the positive stories we are witnessing, we are destroying the very lives we want to save.
A friend and journalist working for the New Vision recently wrote a story on the plight of a blind widowed HIV+ mother with 4 children in the rural areas of Western Uganda. (http://www.newvision.co.ug/news/314890-widowed-blind-and-hiv-positive-all-nyakato-needs-is-a-house.html). Nassar didn’t just tell the story. He asked people to help. Since the publication of the story, the New Vision has raised millions of shillings from Ugandans and abroad toward building a house for this family, treatment, and school fees. This is what bold journalism is all about. This is what journalists like Scott Mills should be doing when they come to Uganda. Let me also add that as a movement, we are fed up of being used as pawns by Western journalists who use our stories for their own selfish interests.
Bold journalism means that journalists should be able to translate stories they write into tangible results. What does it cost for the BCC to raise money for condoms and lubricants for the gay men Mills interviewed? Regardless of Western support, we need to have awareness of imperialist tendencies (what I call subtle racism) that is sometimes tied to the “help” we get.
I am convinced that the international community is genuinely interested in our freedom and that some journalists want to tell our stories in a way that raises our voices for liberation. However, I feel that NOW is the time to engage local media and potential allies on the African continent. The acceptance of African LGBT movements by Africans should be our priority. The international community has played its role. The stage has been set. It is time to translate this support into meaning change at home.
I was speaking at a conference at Union Theological Seminary in NYC when an American journalist walked up to me and said her editor doesn’t want to publish stories that portray the “getting better” situation for LGBT persons in Uganda. For the past three years since the introduction of the Bahati bill we have talked about how bad things are. Can we now begin to celebrate the progress we are making?
A colleague recently commented on my facebook update on the negative impact that international media has on African LGBT movements. He said:
Frankly it would have helped if our people on the ground had responded to the travesty of a documentary that Scott Mills produced. The silence from our end was as deafening as it was a tacit endorsement of Mill’s nonsense.
Nothing can be further from the truth. It is the tendency to believe that every ally has good intentions and not being able to question. It is important that African LGBT activists understand the intentional and unintentional harm that international media is doing to African LGBT movements and to condemn it whenever and wherever it happens.
In self-criticism, I know that most African LGBTs are not bold enough to condemn the kind of “Mill’s nonsense” that my colleague echoed. We have allowed the West to dictate our politics and write our narratives that we are losing our identity. I know that the arguments I make here are not popular; they don’t attract sympathy because they portray African LGBT persons as competent and independent when people expect them to be stupid.
After all is said, the best thing about the issues I raise here is that African LGBTs know what they want and it’s time to claim it.
I just read this story from the New Vision website about Ugandan Pastor Umar Mulinde being attacked in an incident that is believed to be another ugly attack on religious pluralism in Uganda.
“As I turned away from the attacker, another man poured the liquid on my back and ran away shouting ‘Allah Akbar (God is great).”
Pastor Mulinde said he caught a glimpse of the attackers but could not disclose the details as this would jeopardize investigations. He blamed the attack to some people who are opposed to his conversion from the Islamic faith to Christianity.
“I have got threats for a very long time, but didn’t take them serious until now,” he said.
Mulinde was raised in a staunch Muslim family and his father served as the local Imam. He was a sheikh before getting converted to Christianity.
Mulinde said the attack occurred shortly after his church had concluded a seven-day crusade at in which over 300 people gave their lives to the Lord.
I have spent a number of years observing the compassion and cruelty of religion. Finding middle ground has been difficult. As someone who was raised with an unquestionable reading of scripture I have learned to free myself from reading the “Word of God” as the unadulterated “Word of God.”
The Self : I grew up in Mengo, a small town in Kampala known for its large community of Somali Muslim immigrants. There are as many mosques as Balokole (Pentecostal) churches in this town. My family’s Church, Trinity Christian Fellowship, was one of them except that it was a home fellowship where everything happened inside our house. I attended a number of Balokole crusades in my childhood. After all, it was the norm and mom was an evangelist. For years I watched Imams and pastors tussle it out in a barrage of arguments and counter arguments on whose Book or whose prophet is God-sent. I was blessed to grow up in an environment of Christian extremism and to remain sane as to have an independent and liberal mind.
The problem of the Absolute: My theology has always been simple. God (whoever your god is) cannot be defended and does not need to be defended. The whole idea of being God (god) is that you can speak for yourself. Otherwise what is the point in worshiping a super natural being who is helpless? I have always believed that as so-called Christians, (the phrase so-called herein used to portray how much I despise our self-righteous attitude as Christians) it is not our job to defend God. The attack on Pastor Mulinde is unfortunate but it points to a more complicated problem among Pentecostal Churches than among Muslim fundamentalists. It is also a profound attack on the preaching of the gospel.
The US: Uganda is a country of diverse religions and faiths. Despite the fact that Pentecostal Christians in Uganda received official recognition by the government only two years ago after being in existence for about four decades, everyone should be free to exercise their religious or faith freedom. When I was growing up, the Uganda Television broadcasting company (the only TV station in Uganda at that time) had strict instructions from government not to broadcast Balokole programs. The Idi Amin administration had launched a violent attack on Pentecostalism that to be a Mulokole in Uganda was a very shameful thing. It was even worse that the Balokole faith preached the prosperity gospel which meant that most of its followers were impoverished, uneducated, and miserable people. The number of Balokole who were well-off was too insignificant to attract respect. The Museveni administration is behind the freedom that the Pentecostal Church enjoys today. Beside his unconfirmed Pentecostalism and his wife’s confirmed Pentecostalism, President Museveni overturned the oppressive NGO laws that bound Pentecostal Churches to being registered as Non-Governmental Organizations. Recently, the President declared Pentecostals as an officially recognized Faith and granted them the same religious freedom as enjoyed by Muslims, Seventh Day Adventists, Catholics, and Anglicans.
The Now: Looking at how far Pentecostals in Uganda have come, it is surprising that their pastors should hold open door crusades and preach the gospel to potential converts while being blasphemous to Muslims and Prophet Mohammed. For a country that has been through too many bloodshed wars, religious war is the last thing Ugandans need. My plea to government is that these crusades that become a violent attack on divergent religious views be abolished especially if pastors and Imams are using them as a platform to vent their hate. I am a Christian. I have no business with Prophet Mohammed but that does not give me any right to condemn my Muslim friends for not following Jesus.
Pentecostal pastors such as Mulinde need to begin respecting religious traditions that are not their own. The attack on pastors and the blackmail that we so often read about is not a result of some hate campaign against Pentecostalism. Rather it the consequence of pastors using hate speech to front the Pentecostal faith as the absolute faith tradition that every Ugandan should follow. If we are going to promote religious pluralism in our country, we also need to advocate for an end to religious blasphemy that is promoted by Christians themselves.
I am happy that Secretary Clinton mentions the need to train LGBT activists and staff of their organizations as a way of empowering them for the struggle. We need to raise a generation of activist thinkers and professionals ‘who can speak the language of the oppressor.’ From the civil rights movement to the women’s rights movement, nothing gave voice to their struggles as empowerment for education did. My professor, Ed Rodman, has once remarked that, ‘Had slave masters known better, they wouldn’t have taught slaves how to speak English.’ Rodman believes that learning how to speak the master’s language empowered slaves to rise against their oppressor.
Our oppressors don’t expect us to have knowledge and/or to use it to our advantage. They don’t expect us to think or reason. By caging us in a life of discrimination and fear, they know that they will control us so we are left powerless to fight back. Our allies on the other hand speak on our behalf because they are taken seriously because their academic credentials! They write our research and tell our stories not because we cannot do what they do but because they have knowledge we don’t have. I respectfully acknowledge the contribution of allies to our movements but the only way I see Clinton’s speech bringing the change we need is when LGBT persons will become the experts of their own movement and an authority on issues affecting them.
Allies such as Sylvia Tamale, Jeff Sharlett, and Kapya Kaoma among several others are able to make a significant contribution to LGBT movements because they command authority and respect because of their professional achievements. A friend of mine, and a great admirer of Dr. Tamale, often jokes that, ‘Even when Tamale makes a point that does not make sense it makes sense to people because of the respect she commands.’
Well my friend, I don’t know about that but what I want to argue here is that if we are going to raise a generation the Martin Luther Kings, Hilary Clintons, Sylvia Tamales, Jeff Sharletts, and Kapya Kaomas of this world, we need to make it possible for LGBT activists to further their education in their fields of interest. An LGBT activist with a law degree or a PhD in a room of the likes of Martin Ssempa makes a huge difference.
We know the story. We activists are received with great honor overseas. It’s a different story in our home countries. We sit in conference rooms and people sniff and jeer at us because even when we make good arguments, people question our credentials. I believe that for people to disagree with your opinions but still be able to respect you is a powerful thing. We need mutual respect- even in our differences. Nelson Mandela was able to begin conversations with his Afrikaner oppressors because first, he learned how to ‘speak their language’ and two, he won their respect. We are not going to build our movements if the only respect we command is from our allies overseas. Our own people need to begin taking us seriously and we have to break the myth that if you’re gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender, then you’re destined for failure.
I have read Secretary Clinton’s speech. I have seen great potential in her remarks- she may not even realize the weight of her contribution. I have projected the future and I have seen how far this speech is going to take us. She had done her part. We need to do ours. Let us all identify what we can do in line with her remarks and let’s get it done.