“I understood that I was different and I reconciled myself with it” – Anonymous (West Africa) — 1/4

We share a conversation with someone who would like to remain anonymous. In this interview, they first tell us about their discomfort growing up as a young girl who “wasn’t girly”. In the second part, they share how they began to accept their difference (Part 2), and then they talk about resistance and the power of solidarity in their work in a queer women’s group (Part 3). We conclude our conversation by discussing the evolution of their resistance, their work’s impact, and their vision of unity for queer women's groups in francophone West Africa (Part 4).

Anonymous was interviewed by Françoise Moudouthe in late 2019 as part of a global project documenting girls’ resistance. The conversation was also edited into this four-part interview by Nana Bruce-Amanquah and Edwige Dro for our #GirlsResistWA series. You can learn more about the series here. 

Trigger warning: this conversation contains mentions of violence and abuse which may be triggering for readers. Kindly take a moment to decide if you want to keep reading. If you do proceed, we encourage you to centre your wellbeing and stop reading at any point, as you need.

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Thank you for being part of this series. We’ll start with your youth. What age range comes to mind when we talk about the time when you were a young girl? 

I’d say from 14-15 to 24-25 years old.

Why does this stage of your life start at 14-15 years old? What symbolizes your entry into it?  

I think about when I was 14 or 15 years old because that’s when I accepted myself. I understood that I was different, and I reconciled myself with it. At my confirmation ceremony, I told myself in the church: “OK, it’s now or never. I have to know who I am.” I went to sleep and when I woke up, nothing had changed. Then I told myself “All right, now you know for sure. You are different. There’s nothing you can do about it. So, you must learn to live with it. You must get ready to take the blows that come along with it and to yield to the temptations that might be too.” 

We’ll talk about this difference as we progress in the conversation. Could you tell me first how your family life and the education you received at the time were? 

I grew up in West Africa, in town with my mother, in a house like any other I’d say. I spent my childhood alone until I was 9 years old. Then, we became a family of four: my mom, her husband, my younger sister, and me. I was raised in the Catholic faith - very strict and conservative. 

How would you describe yourself during this girlhood stage? 

I was very guarded. I was very cautious about understanding my difference before saying anything or sharing my point of view. I didn’t enjoy confrontation much. So, in order not to explain myself constantly, I would stay home and watch cartoons.

I would overthink a lot and ask myself many questions. I would wonder: “OK, what didn’t work there?”, “Am I not making enough effort?”, “Is it me? I don’t understand other people”. 

When you talk about being different, what do you mean?

It was strange, from the beginning, when I started going to school. See, we spoke French at home. I did not understand the vernacular language. So, when I started going to school, everybody teased me. They nicknamed me “the little French girl” and no one wanted to be friends with me because we couldn’t communicate. Once I got back home, I told my mom: “Speak vernacular to me because I can’t take this any longer”. As I started to make friends, the girls thought I wasn’t girly enough. I was told my thoughts were too “boyish”. Then, when I began befriending the boys, they said I wasn’t a boy either. I had to fit into one category, girls or boys, but none of them wanted me!

This was deeply hurtful. I hardly had any friends and didn’t fit into any group. When I went to play with my schoolmates, I heard: “No, she can’t play ball with us. She’ll beat us, and that’s not fair.” It was constant trouble, so I stayed home, and enjoyed it. I like music. I spent time with my uncle (my mother’s younger brother) who could play the guitar. At the time he would play many Tracy Chapman songs and they inspired me a lot. 

You included over-ear headphones in the picture of items that symbolise your teenage years. Do music and cartoons still bring you joy? 

Yes, I still watch cartoons. To this day, I can’t fall asleep without watching them. I wake up as soon as the TV automatically shuts down and fall back asleep a few minutes after turning it back on. I still listen to lots of music. It soothes my soul when I’m reciting my rosary, working, or praying. I prefer the over-ear headphones to the earbuds because they’re noise canceling. It isolates me from the outside world. It makes me forget what’s happening around me and focus on who I want to be and what I want to do. It allows me to withdraw from how violent society can be for me, my work, and my family.

I see. You often mention clothing. Was it something important to you? If so, why? 

Not really, to be honest. I dressed depending on how I felt, to be comfortable. I never understood why clothes were gendered. People still ask me why I wear pants. It’s because I walk better with them. I tell them “Have you seen me walk? Do you think I can walk well in a dress or a skirt?”  And when I started working in the LGBT world, lots of people, especially girls, would tell me: “You have a masculine style, you wear pants, so you must walk like a guy.” I still don’t understand. I don’t wear pants because I want to become a man. I don’t feel like a man. I wear them because they make it easier to move around. I can walk and sit as I want with pants. I wear whatever I want to feel comfortable. 

Back then, did you think that the hardship because of your difference would be permanent? Or did you tell yourself, “No, I’m hopeful that things will evolve”? 

Well, back then, I was convinced that nothing would ever change. I would tell myself “OK, I’m very different from the others. Since I was raised in the Catholic faith, maybe things will evolve with God.” I think that’s what made me take holy orders at 16-17 years old. Before leaving at 21, I wanted to be a nun. My mom said, "You don’t like wearing dresses and you want to become a nun. Are you aware that they wear dresses?”  I replied: “I’m going to the convent, but I’ll be in the congregation where they don’t wear dresses.”

And when I got in, I was very clear with the Reverend Mother. I said: “You won’t make me wear dresses or skirts. I’ll always wear pants. I want to take orders in pants like seminarian priests. They told me: “OK, you just got in, the Lord will progressively help you change.” But as time passed, I was certain I wouldn’t wear dresses. 

Then at 21, you left the convent. 

Yeah, I left, and they wrote in my file: “She refuses to obey.” When you want to become a nun, you must take three vows: vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. And obedience for me… I was constantly saying: “No. I disagree. Why does it have to be like this?”. Because you must obey the Reverend Mother. Always. Whatever she said, we had to obey. It was inhumane to force someone to do things without them having a say. Yes, there are chores. I don’t disagree with that. I however don’t understand why I’m forced to do things I don’t want to do! They grounded me constantly. I washed everybody’s dishes. You must fast, go to mass three times a day, wash the dishes… Do this, do that… And nothing would change.

For you, deciding to take holy orders was also a way to try and find somewhere you belonged. Did you eventually find that in an all-female convent? 

No. Not at all. 

Despite your conflictual relationship with the Church, you chose a rosary as another item in the picture you sent me. Could you tell me what this item means to you? 

I chose the rosary because it reminds me of my family. It also reminds me of God’s love for me, regardless of what godly men tell me. Whatever you say, I strongly believe that God loves me for who I am. No one can tell me otherwise. I believe in God, and I always find solace in Him. I always carry my rosary and I use it often.

In the second part, we conclude our chat on Anonymous’ childhood and talk about the incidents and the people who helped them accept themselves. Click here to read the next part.