They Hate Gay People Because They Don’t See Us as People
Homophobia is rooted in the fear of the unknown
In my first year of university in my native Ghana, I became friends with a guy. Let’s call him Kay. Kay and I became so close that even today, my family thinks he’s my boyfriend — which is hilarious and sad at the same time.
Anyway, back in school, we did a lot together. We talked about many profound topics, played video games, watched anime, cooked together, and… now that I think of it, I get why people thought we were dating.
During one of our deep conversations, we eventually geared toward the topic of religion. Just like me, Kay was questioning his Christian faith. We both couldn’t stand the destructive nature of religion, especially to the African psyche. One thing led to another, and soon somehow, we began talking about homosexuality.
My best friend was genuinely confused and disgusted by why men would sleep with other men.
“The way women are beautiful like this,” he told me. “Why would another man not like that? I really hate those gay people. Their lifestyle doesn’t make any sense.”
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. And no, I wasn’t shocked to hear someone say they hated gay people.
Homophobia is deeply rooted in Ghana. Hating gay people is just as normal as talking about the weather. For every ten Ghanaians you meet, ten of them are homophobic. Fine, fine, maybe not all Ghanaians are like that. But the overwhelming majority are, and they’re very vocal about it.
So no, homophobia doesn’t shock me. I’m as used to it as the African heat. What shocked me, however, was that the homophobia came from someone like Kay.
You see, about 90% of Ghanaians are religious (either Christian or Muslim). Their attitude toward homosexuality is shaped by their religious beliefs. It’s Adam and Eve, they believe, not Adam and Steve. Now, I don’t agree with their homophobia. But I can understand where all that comes from — God hates fags, or so their religious books claim, ergo they too must hate fags.
But with Kay, I truly couldn’t fathom where his deep-seated hatred for gay people came from. He had given up on Christianity, and truly abhorred the mental gymnastics of hypocritical Christians. So if he was no longer a follower of the Jewish Carpenter, why was he still holding on to some of these archaic belief systems manufactured by the adherents of the religion?
What could be the reason? I wanted to know.
So I asked him, “Does it mean you hate me, Kay?”
He narrowed his eyes and paused. “What do you mean? Why will I hate you?”
I sighed. “You know I’m a lesbian, right?” It was the first time I said those words out loud to another person. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done it because it could have gone very badly. But I wasn’t thinking about that at all.
He just sat there in silence, gazing at me with wide brown eyes. Then he grinned and burst into hysterical laughter. But I wasn’t laughing. That shut him up immediately.
“Shit, Phel, you’re serious.”
I nodded.
He was silent for a moment, deeply lost in thought. When he looked at me, his eyes didn’t change. There was no anger, no malice, no disgust. Just… curiosity.
“Does it mean you like girls?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, that’s fine. Women liking women is fine. But men liking men still doesn’t make any sense. Seriously, who wouldn’t like women? I can’t imagine anyone not doing so. Men can’t like men. That shit isn’t natural.”
Wait… what? Women could like women, but men couldn’t like men? What the hell was this logic? I would have laughed out loud if not for how goddamn serious he was.
“Kay, do you like men?”
He looked at me like I had gone crazy. But I too was goddamn serious.
“Hell no. You already know I like women.”
“Oh,” I said. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I date only women. I’m attracted to only women. I could never sleep with a man.”
“That’s odd. How would you know you don’t like men when you’ve never slept with one?”
“I don’t have to sleep with a man to know that. I just know, okay?”
I smiled. “What if I told you that gay people feel the same way too?”
And now he paused. Like really paused. He was thinking. That was something I loved about Kay. Not one to stubbornly cling to an idea, he was always open to discussion.
“You’re attracted to women,” I told him, “because you’re straight. The way you like women is the way I like women, which is the way gay men like men, and straight women like men. If you expect gay men to just switch their sexuality and start liking women, then shouldn’t that apply to you too? Shouldn’t you too be able to change your sexuality, and be attracted to men?”
That was the day Kay began to change his hateful stance on homosexuality.
While I’m tempted to think that I did a good job convincing him, I don’t think that was the case. Something far more powerful was the catalyst for his transformation.
The dehumanization of gay people is the root cause of homophobia in Ghana, and perhaps other places.
At the heart of dehumanization is the language used to describe homosexuality in general, and gay people in particular. Ghanaians think that homosexuality is ‘something you do’, rather than who you are. You’re not born gay. You’re just doing gay stuff. They reduce gay relationships to only sex.
Never in their wildest dream can they fathom that gay people, like straight people, also want love and companionship. You know, because two people of the same sex cannot possibly fall in love with each other. It’s just all about sex.
To most Ghanaians, homosexuality is a distant reality that can never apply to someone close to them, or someone they know. It’s a ‘Western Concept’, they say, and Africans who practice homosexuality are merely copying the immorality of the West. Gay people are sexual deviants, animals with no self-control who only care about humping every living being of the same sex.
This is the mindset of the majority of the population, and with such a mindset, where the humanity of gay people is nonexistent, it’s no surprise they’re treated as less than human.
But Kay never lost sight of my humanity, and thus treated me no differently despite my sexuality. I was still the same person he’d known since freshman year.
The same person who loved anime, movies, writing, languages, making silly jokes, and everything that made me me, that made me human. He saw all of that. And I know he saw that because it reflected in his eyes. I never for a second felt threatened in his presence.
And knowing who I was, Kay extended that same courtesy to all gay people… that perhaps, we are not so different after all. I believe this was what changed Kay’s mind about homosexuality.
And indeed, my hypothesis was proved right when I was forced to come out for the second time.
During my second year of university, I ran into some issues that made it difficult to secure a hall of residence. Having no hostel of my own, I had to go stay with a friend for one semester. I had hosted her in our freshman year when she too had problems with accommodation. So she was more than happy to return the favor.
Anyway, the room I was staying in with my friend was originally meant for four people. So basically, I became the fifth wheel… if that’s a thing.
I eventually got to know about the other girls who treated me like one of their own roommates. We laughed, talked, and did a lot of things together like normal roommates. I don’t think we ever fought or anything like that. It was awesome. Unfortunately or fortunately, due to our different programs of study, I was usually alone in the room. Okay, it had little to do with our programs and more to do with my zero social life.
On one such day, while enjoying my solitude on the balcony of the fourth floor, I suddenly felt someone wrap their hands around my waist, leaning onto me, and resting their chin on my shoulder.
I knew exactly who it was, not only because I was familiar with her sweet-scented perfume, but also because among all my roommates, she was the most touchy. Let’s call her Ana. To avoid confusion, it must be noted that Ana was not the friend helping me out with my hostel problems.
I froze, taken aback by how intimate we were, how her warm breath caressed my skin. Why was she so close to me? I mean, I knew it didn’t mean anything to her. She was like that with the other women… plus she also had a boyfriend.
But that didn’t stop my mind from going a mile per second. I hate when people touch me. However, I don’t mind when it comes from people I like. And since I had a little crush on Ana, I didn’t protest.
“What are you doing?” she asked, still holding on to me.
“Nothing. Just looking outside.”
We stood there. None of us saying anything. Obviously, she wasn’t about to leave me alone either. So I said very casually, “You shouldn’t be this close to me.”
“Why not?”
Because you’re driving me crazy with how soft your body feels next to me, I wanted to say. Instead, I said, “Nothing.” Then I scooted away from her, putting a respectable distance between us.
Ana smiled. “You don’t talk much.”
“People say that a lot.”
A comfortable silence settled between us for a while until she broke that silence. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Do you have a boyfriend? I’ve never heard you talk about any guy.”
She and the others had boyfriends at the time. When they talked, I listened. And when they wanted my opinion, I gave it to them. I never shied away from a conversation. But never once had I talked about my own romantic relationships. I mean, I couldn’t talk about something I didn’t have, right? So I answered her truthfully.
“I’m not interested in guys,” I added for good measure before she thought about hooking me up with someone.
“Oh… Who are you interested in then?” She seemed genuinely confused.
“Girls.”
“Oh.” She paused for a long time. “Are you a lesbian?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.” She was serious.
I chuckled. “Why does no one believe me when I say I’m a lesbian?”
“You don’t act like a lesbian.”
I raised a brow. I knew I would regret this, but I asked her anyway. “And how do lesbians act?”
“Well, you don’t hit on me or the others,” she said. “You don’t say inappropriate sexual things. You don’t talk about your sexual escapades with other girls. You don’t look at us lustfully or try to touch us inappropriately. You’re just… normal.”
And that right there encapsulated the way my society viewed gay people. It was just all about sex sex sex.
Homosexuality is synonymous with promiscuity — our entire existence revolves around sex.
At least she sounded more curious than hateful, so I maintained the civility of the conversation. “Just because I’m a lesbian doesn’t mean I want to sleep with every woman on this planet,” I told her. “Also, you just described a sex offender. Is that what I am to you?”
Ana paused. “No. You’re not like that.”
“But it’s not only me though. Many gay people are not like that. You’ll find bad people everywhere, both gay and straight. You’re equating being gay with sexual deviance, and that’s wrong.”
She apologized and we never talked about that again. But more importantly, she never treated me any differently. I don’t think she told the others about our conversation, but even if she did, they probably didn’t care. Because none of the girls treated me any differently.
Mind you, unlike Kay, Ana was still a staunch Christian. Like most Ghanaian Christians, she should hate me because of my sexuality. But she didn’t.
Perhaps, if she had never known me nor met any lesbian in real life, she would still hold those warped beliefs about gay people. But she knew me personally. I was real to her. I was human, and being gay didn’t change anything about me.
Of course, this doesn’t always happen. If knowing a gay person closely was enough to cure homophobia, then people wouldn’t reject their own families who come out.
Yet, I still believe that getting to know people on a personal level is a great way to understand our differences and live in harmony. Like racism, homophobia will cease to exist if we stop dehumanizing people who are different from us.
Irrespective of the color of our skin or who we’re attracted to, we all have hopes, dreams, fears, love, joy, pain, purpose, and just about everything that makes us human.
There’s nothing wrong with two consensual adults of the same sex loving each other… or hell, having one-night stands. There’s nothing wrong with them wanting a family and living their lives on their terms.
Just like straight people, gay people deserve to be happy… and miserable too.
