Mikael
Owunna is an American photographer of Nigerian and Swedish descent, and a
finalist in the 2019 FotoEvidence Book Award with World Press Photo. The
following are edited excerpts of interviews carried out by Owunna for his new
book, "Limitless
Africans."
I closed my eyes as
the traditional priestess poured a basin of mysterious oils over me. Stinging
my body from head to toe, she repeated the motion several times to wash the
"gay devil" out of me.
I was 18 and
spending Christmas in Nigeria, where homosexuality is illegal, as it is in more than 30
African countries. Gay and Nigerian, this was my third exorcism in just a few
days' time.
But returning to
the United States, my struggles continued. As a gay African immigrant, I
existed in a strange middle ground of rejection from all corners. Rejected from
white LGBTQ spaces and American society due to my blackness and immigrant
status, and from African circles due to my sexuality. I was
"unacceptable" everywhere I turned.
I found photography
as my voice in this darkness. Over the course of four years, I would travel to
10 different countries across North America, the Caribbean and Europe to
document the LGBTQ African immigrant experience.
Shooting and
interviewing dozens of LGBTQ African immigrants, nine of which are featured
below, I found that every individual had experienced a similar sense of
rejection on all sides. This body of work is a collaborative response between
me and my community to redefine what it means to be an immigrant, African and
queer.
Brian
Montreal, Canada
Montreal, Canada
Mikael
Owunna
I am Rwandan by my
parents but I grew up in Tanzania, Niger, Kenya, Benin and the Central African
Republic. I answer to "him" and "her" and I identify as
queer. I, for a long time, thought that I could only fully embrace one of the
two identities, that they were mutually exclusive.
When I decided to
embrace my LGBTQ identity, I subconsciously pushed away my African one. I found
myself becoming what some call a "Bounty" or "Oreo" --
black on the outside and white on the inside. But prior to that I had already
tried to push away my LGBTQ identity. It was complete denial.
And then one day I
thought to myself 'why not try embracing both identities, just for the sake of
trying.' I remember feeling butterflies in my stomach and feeling so light as
if an enormous weight was lifted off of me.
Lahya
Berlin, Germany
Berlin, Germany
Mikael
Owunna
As a disabled black
and fat person, and body non-conforming person, style is empowerment. I'm very
much influenced by my African heritage. I like big earrings, earth colors, but
also colorful colors, and I like to show my body as it is and to bring it out
in the best way I can. For me, it's like the queerness in my outfit is that I
wear what I want, even if I'm a feminine person. It's a queer femininity and
not a cis-hetero-normative femme style.
As a black
intersectional person, I always have to give myself a bit more love than other
people in the world give me. I look for other people who have the same or
nearly the same identities. I look for homes where I fit in and sometimes I
find them, sometimes I find part of them.
Odera
New York City, USA
New York City, USA
Mikael
Owunna
I have never felt
at home with just one community, or any place that doesn't allow for
intersectionality (the overlapping of multiple societally marginalized
identities).
Recently I have
been embracing the Q in LGBTQ. Queerness allows and builds beautiful
transformative magical energy that transcends labels and boundaries. So I
definitely embrace "queer." My preferred gender pronoun is
"they," but I truly call and respond to many gender IDs: he, they,
she, Odera, Sailor Senshi, Goddess, Gw0rl.
The first words
that come to my mind for my family are, "crazy," "toxic"
and "trauma." It would be ridiculous and unfair to not mention,
"dedication," "strength," and "resilience."
Recently, distance allows for at least the possibility of healing. I love my
family, and I know they love me. However "love" doesn't always equate
to acceptance.
I am lucky because,
I have built a home and inner fire within myself that simply does not accept
the binary. And it certainly doesn't accept others defining my identity. It
simply isn't in my nature.
Tobi (with daughter Gabrielle)
Essex, UK
Essex, UK
Mikael
Owunna
I am not fully
"out" to all my family members. I have quite a large and religious
family tree. The few times I have been back home (to Nigeria) since we moved to
England, I almost always have to hide my identity as a queer, non-binary
person: take out my piercings, deal with being mis-gendered or read as a woman,
hide my shaved sides with unnecessarily long braids, wear clothes that are
definitely not my style or choice, and refrain from talking about my partners.
It makes me feel "othered" within my own culture and in my own home.
Motherhood means a
lot to me and the relationship that I have with my daughter has brought me into
my strength in so many ways: physically, spiritually and emotionally. Knowing
that I have no other choice but to cherish, protect and create a space in this
world for another human is magic personified.
Terna
Boston, USA
Boston, USA
Mikael
Owunna
Something that's
important to me is that, as much as is possible, especially if I'm going to an
event, I wear some sort of African clothing. You'll never find me in a cocktail
dress or anything like that.
It's an ongoing
struggle, having both my African identity and my identity as a queer person.
Those things have definitely created a sense of fragmentation in my life. They
have affected my family, and that's been really, really difficult. In some
ways, I think that's been the central tension or conflict of my life.
My response to
folks who say that being queer is un-African, I would invite them, really
invite them, to look at the narrative that they're holding about colonization
and what it means to own who you are, where you come from and your heritage --
without pushing out those who belong to that heritage, too.
Aru
Brussels, Belgium
Brussels, Belgium
Mikael
Owunna
I grew up in
Zimbabwe and Botswana, and the moment I realized I liked women, age 14, I did
not have the vocabulary to even express what I felt, nor to understand the
complexities of sexuality and identity.
I had no problem at
the time feeling proud of being African, so I wouldn't say I was being pushed I
away. I felt more challenged about my African identity when I moved to the UK
and Belgium.
Having to hide who
I am, or act a certain way to keep the peace around relatives for fear of
causing arguments, were the times I really felt pushed from my identity. People
fear what they do not understand. And when someone doesn't understand what it
is to truly be themselves and love who they are, then I'm really not surprised
that there is such resistance to having an open mind.
Brook
Silver Spring, USA
Silver Spring, USA
Mikael
Owunna
The LGBTQ community
was a lot more accepting for me, so it was easy to distance myself from my
African culture. But I've always been deeply rooted in my Ethiopian culture,
history and even religion. Support from a few people in the Ethiopian community
helped a lot. But more than anything, rediscovering old Ethiopian music made me
realize that I have as much right of heritage as any other Ethiopian.
With the exception
of some people -- my brother and cousin -- I honestly don't feel accepted by my
family. After lots of conversations, my family and I have reached an
understanding to be civil with each other and be in one another's life as we
need each other. But I don't feel accepted.
I think this
sentiment (that being queer is "un-African") is due to Western
influence during the colonial era and continual pressure now. There is lots of
historic evidence showing LGBTQ inclusion in many African cultures'
pre-colonial eras. Homophobia is what's
foreign to the continent.
Samuel
Stockholm, Sweden
Stockholm, Sweden
Mikael
Owunna
I identify as a
queer person. I love how the term gives me the freedom to be as I am (and) how
it allows me to express myself freely.
I had a hard time
coming out and telling people around me about my queerness. It was probably one
of the most difficult times of my life. I think a lot of Habesha (Ethiopians
and Eritreans) queers can relate to that stress.
After a lot of
soul-searching and a lot of struggle, and with the help of friends around, I
started to dare more, to live as I wanted and it just got better. And the more
I became myself, the more I loved myself. There is really not much that can be
compared to being yourself. It is amazing!
Being accepted
means just being able to be myself all the time without switching some sort of
on-and-off switch.
Nolizwe
Oakland, USA
Oakland, USA
Mikael
Owunna
My name is Nolizwe
and it means "the nation" in Xhosa. Before, I went by Lizwe and in
some cases Liz. I was ashamed of my name growing up and tired of everyone
mispronouncing it, so I figured it would be easier to shorten it and not deal
with any of the nonsense. As I continue to learn ways to love myself, I've
fallen in love with my full name, and value its importance within my ancestral
and personal journey.
My mom is
supportive; my dad is a work in progress. I went to South Africa this past
summer and it was the first time going back in five years. Since my last visit,
I (appeared) more "masculine," so there was definitely a lot of
thoughts around how to present myself, especially considering my visit was (for
my grandmother's funeral). I'm pretty sure everyone knows about my queerness
but it's definitely not talked about.
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