“All Hail The Queers”: An African photography magazine responds to queer pain
- Prompted by Ghana’s anti gay-bill, the magazine traces queer lives through themes of colonialism, christianity, and African culture.
In 2021, following the closure of a community center for LGBTQ+ people in Ghana weeks after it had opened, the country’s parliament proposed a bill dubbed “The Promotion of Proper Human Sexual Rights and Ghanian Family Values Bill.”
If passed, it would make identifying as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community a criminal offense punishable by up to 10 years in prison. The bill further proposed even harsher punishments for people who support or “advocate” gay rights.
It sparked global outrage due to its unjust punishment of queer identity. While some activists rallied to the streets, others chose art to express their anger and pain.
Among these was Zawadi The Art, a visual artist and the mastermind behind All Hail The Queers – a photography magazine that explores queer pain in Africa.
“The LGBTQIA+ bill passed in Ghana was why I decided to put this magazine together,” says Zawadi. “I remember being so upset. I could not believe that the government had made a conscious decision to criminalize being gay and to subject their citizens to conversion therapy.
“When I decided to put this magazine together I started talking to the people closest to me, people who understood my pain. They saw the vision and decided they would not let the opportunity pass them by. That’s how the contributors came to be. I can say we did this without experience but the response was great.”
The ideal future of Africa is one of freedom and diversity. A future where queer people have human rights and do not suppress every aspect of themselves to navigate society. Unfortunately, the current reality doesn’t make this future seem obtainable.
Mal Muga, a portrait photographer, contributed stirring visuals to remind the world that queerness is not taboo. The black background represented the dirtiness and darkness associated with being queer which he smudged with color as if to say, “We are here, we are important and you will not erase our stories.”
Tinashe Wakapila, a poet and founder of Wakapila Arts Foundation, used words to bring healing and speak on the truths around being queer. In their work, they define beauty as the courage to be your true self despite the unspeakable violence around you.
There is still much re-learning that needs to be done within the continent regarding LGBTQIA+ experiences. The keenest loss felt by the African queer collective is the erasure of their history and existence. However, the few artifacts this magazine has managed to piece together show that being queer was never taboo for African people.
“We existed! We were priests and caretakers and were an integral part of society,” says Mal Muga. “Our roles in society were equally important. Yet society today leans on the law of religion to the point that one can look at a queer person and dislike them, kill them and defend themselves against such a hateful crime.”
Today, homophobic violence is on the rise in Ghana, which includes harassment, detention and “corrective rape” of women who are presumed to be lesbians.
Some activists like Mal Muga believe these are largely fueled by some religious doctrines, like in the case of Christianity.
“There is one law they seem to forget: ‘love your neighbor as you love yourself,’” says Mal Muga. “If we truly adhered to this common rule in every religion across the globe, would we be killing one another?”
The criminalization of homosexuality in Ghana started with the Offences Against the Person Act in 1861. The Act was implemented in all British colonies. The colonial empires imposed arbitrary standards of gender and sexuality, which were enforced by religious morality. The Bible acted as an enforcer for an un-African way of life.
In 1957, when Ghana gained independence from British rule, Section 104 of the Ghanaian Criminal Code, 1960 criminalized “unnatural carnal knowledge,” which is sexual intercourse with a person in an unnatural manner or with an animal.
“I feel dirty because I don’t feel like I’m living my ancestors’ wildest dream. Parts of me are unnatural, even when they feel like home to me. The West dictates our lives,” explains Mal Muga.
Often, some people defend homophobia using African culture. For example, in Zimbabwe, the elderly will say, “Hazvina hunhu,” which loosely translates to “It is immoral.” This statement alone can shut down any interrogation of harmful views blanketed by it. However, this artful dodge still needs to be scrutinized. There is a need to ask what we will become if people continue to turn a blind eye to the queerness of African culture.
“In my Shona culture, our pronouns have always been they/them, which we use as a sign of respect for the person,” explains Tinashe. “We can safely say the English ‘terminology’ was trying so hard to individualize and gender-characterize everything and put it in a box. The introduction of the term they/them is edifying the spectrum and releasing people from being defined by their body features or clothes.
“In other parts of Africa, when a person is said to have a spirit, be it male or female, the spirit will demand a life partner and can sometimes choose a partner of the same sex. They will call it a tradition because it involves spirits, but if a male spirit can choose a male life partner, I believe that ties to queerness. Queerness does appease our ancestors.”
Arguments around religion and culture often entrench taboos around queerness.
“We have been taught to feel dirty,” explains Mal Muga. “I wrote ‘SiTaboo’ to express what life has been for many of us. History says we have always been accommodated as queers, yet as time passed, the language changed. Religion dis-established our culture.”
All Hail The Queers highlights that everyday life is not filled with bliss for queer people in Africa. The magazine is a reminder of the pain that queer people experience – one that urges society to change. However, amidst the pain is a celebration of queer identity. Zawadi The Art wrote “When You Handed Us the Mirror” as an exploration of their roots in which they pay homage to the long line of spiritual beings from which they’re descended.
“Before exploring my roots, it felt like I was following a blurred vision of myself,” Zawadi says. “I decided right then that I owed it to myself to live my life to its fullness. There was no point in living if I was not going to be myself. I had the chance to be art and to live art. I didn’t get to do that before because I had to change this image of success based on a white man’s point of view.”
“So I decided to go back to my roots. I needed to feel my roots and my skin and speak my language. I needed to feel the sun, be amongst the trees and communicate with who I am. That was the essence of awakening, a great rising.”
According to Zawadi, there is a thread of authenticity that traces its way through the magazine. Each contribution is a triumphant rallying cry for authentic queer existence. It is an embodiment of queer culture – a record of queer history, which critiques the legacy of colonialism by unashamedly displaying queer lives.
“We currently have over 1500 reads. I guess it speaks to the power of authenticity and rawness,” she adds.
Today, the magazine is available on Yumpu and Issuu. There is a promise to see more issues like All Hail The Queers from Zawadi. She says each issue will take on different approaches depending on the annual themes. The subsequent magazine issues will be released under The Queer Republic, a transnational network of LGBTQIA+ Africans.
“The truth has just put on a drag show, and it’s not your average one-day show,” Zawadi says. “It’s not a show for your entertainment; this is our lives layered in color, this is queerness living in all its glory, these are living and breathing.”
Edited/Reviewed by: Cassandra Roxburgh, PK Cross, Caleb Okereke, and Uzoma Ihejirika.
