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The day is come, again.

I am writing.

Am hesitant. Doing this, writing about being gay in Uganda is not a fun thing to do. I have to ask myself why I do it.

Was talking to a friend who no longer lives in Uganda and he was emphatic. Just play turtle. Get a good nice shell, sneak in underneath, and hide. Pull down the cover, remove yourself from circulation.
Because it is a risk to come out. It is a risk to be known as gay in Uganda. A risk that extends to my personal safety, and that of the people around me. It is a risk that family and closest friends would be open to various points of coercion, lawful and unlawful.

So, why do I take the risk?

Simple answer is that I cant be ‘un-gay’.

Trevor Noah wrote an autobiography ‘Born a Crime’. He was born a child of mixed race parentage, in apartheid South Africa. Literally born a crime, [or at least evidence of one!], since relationships between the different races were criminal. He was ‘Born a Crime’. 

I cant be ‘un-gay’. I am just a simple gay Ugandan.
No horns. No claws. Beautiful black skin. Not a demon, nor a devil. Just a simple human being.

Gay in Uganda, Queer in Africa;
well, the burdens and challenges of being who I am is a crime. So says the Parliament of the Republic of Uganda. Unanimously (ahem. This time quorum was actually established as so!) 

Since I am still Ugandan, and I remain gay, or queer, or kuchu..,

I need space where I can shout. And cry. And shed tears when am not seen.
They are my people. Uganda is my country.

I can try to hide who and what I am. Indeed, I will be doing a lot of running and hiding, and smiling and lying, because that is what the demands of survival mean.
And I will rant and rave. Even if no one hears me, well, I will have screamed off some of the rage.

I am a gay Uganda. Made a Crime. [tut, tut, tut; not as cool as ‘Born a Crime’!!!]

 

gug