This Is Forty: Nigerians Lost Their Invitation to the Grammys

As Same-Sex Marriage Takes Center Stage Globally

President Goodluck Jonathan told Nigerians what’s really good when he signed the Same Sex Marriage Prohibition Act at the beginning of the month. It obviously aims to discourage citizens from engaging in activities that the government deems as “reckless” and “intolerable.” It’s hard to fathom this level of indignity after witnessing the momentous interlude at this year’s Grammys, when Queen Latifah officiated as thirty-four same-sex couples exchanged vows. It was a moving tribute and it forced me to wonder what my life would be like if I were prone to loving women.

At the ripe old age of twelve, I entered an all-female boarding school randomly planted in the middle of Lagos. I was left to my own devices, forced to survey the field and come up with my own opinion as to what it meant to be down. I was thrust into an environment that was purely estrogen-infused and, while I reveled in its simplicity, I was also very aware of the “activities” taking place both behind closed doors and in the open corridors.

I took part in some of it. If you’re familiar with the themes in the coming-of-age stunner, “Lord of the Flies,” you know that in order to survive, you must follow the rules, even if they don’t represent your most primal self. In other words, we relied on each other to help dictate intimacy.

I clearly remember Valentines Day being a period of turmoil. It was absolutely imperative to have a “Val” because it meant that you were supremely popular — the equivalent to being a rock star in our world. I have to confess that I had my first major crush at six. Even at an exceptionally young age, I understood the language of sensuality. I only wanted to be held by males I deemed good-looking, so my uncle and family friend were allowed to juggle me.

I never considered swapping spit with someone of the same sex until February 1988. But I wanted to be liked by the senior girls and I not only wanted to feel special, I wanted to make someone else feel the same way. Yes, there were other campuses around that offered male diversion, but access was very limited. So, I was inspired to settle for someone more close to home. The goal was to entice the affections of a senior girl and have her reciprocate.

It was an intense exercise in judgment and sincere adulation. She was a popular gal, who came from a decorated military family, and back then that was a big deal. She was attractive with a level of swagger that she carried with alluring confidence. She surpassed the norm by being sexually ambiguous in a way that peaked my interest. I was smitten by her and willing to stake my claim in whatever form I could muster.

As concrete evidence of our devotion, we had to send gifts to the object of our affection — the more elaborate the better. I wasn’t able to orchestrate anything that dramatic for my chosen “Val,” but I compensated by gathering a few of my prized trinkets and relying on my gift of prose to convey my deepest emotions. I never told any of my friends, mostly because they were immersed in their own variations of romantic entanglements. I was also reluctant to admit my very first conquest because I wasn’t prepared to understand the implications of my actions.

I never heard back from her, so technically my first attempt at a same-sex affair was a dud. But I can at least say that I tried. I was desperate for love and, at that stage in my life, I didn’t care where it came from or whether or not it was “kosher.” I was ready and open to receive. I am now a mature forty-year-old trapped in singledom. My history thus far has paired me with unavailable and frustratingly complicated men, so yes, I won’t reject anyone who happens to rock my word in an irreversible way.

I had the opportunity to explore and I did. For now, I am helplessly devoted to the male species. But I am sympathetic to West African victims of hate like Roger Jean-Claude Mbede, who was jailed in 2012, after his text message to another man wherein he proclaimed his affections, was discovered. He passed away last week after a long illness. His family expressed relief after he died due to the public shame he had brought them.

Stories like these are heartbreaking and remind me that love doesn’t conquer all where I’m from. Dictators and judgmental assholes do. But now that I reside in a country that has the capacity to stage its belief system on national television, I truly cherish my dual citizenship, today more than ever.

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