“I think I've been able to free up voices” – Anonymous (West Africa) — 4/4

Our conversation with Anonymous is coming to an end. We have already discussed their childhood (Part 1), self-acceptance (Part 2), and the importance of solidarity in their work (Part 3). In this final part, we talk about the evolution of their resistance, the impact of their work, and their vision of unity for queer women's organizations in francophone West Africa.

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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We've already talked about the people who supported you and those who were against you. There are also always people who observe, who are not against you, but who are not really on your side either. Did you have many people like this in your life? Who were they?

Yes, I did. Most of them are from my family. And I've had others, in the activism environment.

What did you think of the neutral people? How did you feel?

Years ago, I thought they were traitors. Because people always have an opinion on things. It’s cowardly not to take a stance. But recently I've been thinking that maybe it's the society we live in that makes these people not speak out for fear of being found out or judged. And often I question myself too. I wonder if I am not emphasizing this behavior myself. I tell myself that I was privileged to have been raised by someone who taught me how to be free-spirited, to say what I feel and what I think. But others did not have that privilege. Today, I can understand their position, we live in such a violent society. Every gesture and every word is interpreted. When you get involved in a form of resistance, you are subject to threats and intimidation. So yes, I can understand them.

When you mention thinking about these people differently, I wonder if you see your resistance differently too. Do you think there are things you should have done or could have done differently? 

Yes, many things. I think that my actions were extremely impulsive. And if I must do things all over again, I think I would be more cautious. I think if I had taken the time to think, I might have had more impact. 

I'm speaking generally, but what I noticed was that after I left an environment where I had led a form of resistance, it would become hostile again and I would think to myself that I hadn't used the right strategies. Either the impact wasn't sustainable, or I hadn't prepared them for my departure.

What caused this transition to something more permanent? 

I don't know where I've seen this before, but there's this expression: "You must pick your battles if you want to have an impact”. So, I'm wondering where I should be going because I know I want a fairer society. And I thought about who I am, what my skills are, my abilities, and the experience I have acquired. All this has allowed me to define exactly the kind of battle and resistance I want. 

Okay, and what did you decide? What was the conclusion? 

I said that when I was trying to find myself, I read a lot of things that came from the West. So, I thought we should start by documenting our realities here so that young people, or at least every person questioning things, could know. I started by working for visibility and inclusion.

Could you tell me more about your current job?

When people ask me about my work, it's a little difficult because I don't even know what I do for a living. But I think I try to create a place or a space that is conducive, a safe space for people like me. That is, for people who don't recognize themselves in the norms that society defines. For people who feel sidelined by this heteronormative, patriarchal, misogynistic society. My job is to contribute a little bit to create a safe space where people like me can express themselves and can be fully who they want to be, to live fully without any shame or fear. That’s my job. I'm involved in researching laws that control women's bodies, and LGBT people's bodies; I also work on sexual and reproductive health for lesbian, bisexual, trans, and queer people.

Your work is important to others, but I hear it's also important to you personally. Could you explain to me why you chose your computer as the last item in the picture you sent me?

The computer represents my work, which is my second priority, if not my first. I often tell people "My work is my God" because it is a refuge for me. Frankly, when people say "home," the first thing that comes to mind is my desk. It's my chair and my laptop. I feel at home when I'm in front of my laptop. I've tried, but I can't get away from my work. Even on a surgical table, I think about my work. I think about my work more than I think about myself because I tell myself that it is through my work that I feel and know that I am useful. I often tell people that my work is my heart. If you touch my work, you touch my heart.

What do you see as the impact of your resistance? 

As far as impact goes, I think I've been able to free up voices. To allow my peers, people like me, to share their experiences without being afraid to say the wrong thing. To be able to claim a space to say what you're doing is not inclusive, something’s missing in your action plan. I think I can say I've contributed to that.

It's a powerful impact. Do you feel like a powerful person?

Yes, I know that as part of the movement, I am an empowered person, even though I don't like it that much. In the beginning, I was closed off, because I didn't have anyone around me who had the same differences as me or who carried the same pain. The people you saw in the movement were the ones who were born with silver spoons in their mouths. We didn't see the battles these people fought. Or their journey and we couldn’t identify with them. And I think that's something that we need to deconstruct and that's also part of the work that I do. I present myself as authentically as I can so that each person can recognize themselves somewhere in my story. 

And when it comes to girlhood now...do you define it differently today than you would have back then? 

Yes. My definition of "being a girl" has evolved and I think it continues to do so. When I was a younger girl, I was that person who had to be careful about everything: how she behaved, how she spoke, how she dressed, etc., because I was exposed to a lot of risks. I wondered if I would get killed or raped. If I would be called a witch if I didn't get married or if I didn't have children. We must work towards a world where we don't think about that anymore. Today, my definition of "girl" is a person who has the right to be whomever she wants to be, to stop being cautious, and to live life to the fullest. That's why I'm working: to allow girls to let their guards down, to remove those obstacles that prevent them to thrive.

Finally, when you look to the future, what do you hope to see change? What do liberation and change look like to you?

Something that pains me is seeing the new funders that are currently interested in this movement. I remember when we started working on the issue of queer women in West Africa, especially in the francophone region, nobody was interested. We didn't see what it could bring. AIDS and most of the results and research were about gay men and nothing else. When we started talking about queer women's existence, their needs, how to build a movement, and how to get them involved in other social justice actions, nobody listened to us. 

But now that the movements and organizations have started to take shape and become strong, we see funders who previously turned us down, and closed the door on us, coming back to join the fight. Worse, they want to define the agenda. But these newly created organizations aren’t strong enough and thus accept to take money from these funders at the expense of their agenda to survive. This is the new battle. Yes, we need the money, but we get to determine how and when we use it.

I want to see queer women's groups, especially in francophone West Africa, united with a clear and independent political vision. We need authentic, radical organizations that are independent and autonomous, and that set their agenda for their funders. My vision is to see all these voices united to act, either nationally or within the sub-region.

It is truly a powerful vision. Thank you, Anonymous for sharing your story with us.

This conversation is part of a series of interviews with women from West Africa on the theme of resistance. Click here to see all the interviews.