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Being different as a child was one of my earliest inductions to how uncomfortable being anything other than societal expectation makes people. I was bullied for playing with the boys instead of my fellow girls, looked at with disgust for walking like a guy, labelled for preferring my brother’s clothes to that of my sisters,

Growing up was fun but it always bugged me why my Mom would rather I live with my grandmother than with her in the city where I have heard grandma brag about how well she was doing there, considering the amount of money and items she send for my upkeeps I am sure she wouldn’t

The biggest thing that ever happened to me was coming out. It was a Boxing Day morning, I had blurted it to my religious mother who almost had a heart attack. She kept harping on about how my cousins and the kids of her friends were married to nice guys and how I hadn’t even

I had a hard childhood and it reflected in my behaviour patterns. To give a better background, my mom died while I was 6years old, by my eighth birthday my dad remarried and that became the tail end of everything in my childhood. My step-mom was not mean to me or anything but as a

I  have always known the danger of living as a queer person in Nigeria but I think the danger faced by trans persons is highly underrated and it’s even more painful when you realise your fellow community members are even indifferent to Trans issues and does not see you beyond someone who wants to change

My mistake was thinking I could save people, that because we are queers alike it was my responsibility to save them. I did this a lot, in relationships and friendships alike for many years until recently but the most outstanding for me would be with my ex-friend Gizzie. I got my first apartment after three

I did my very best to fit in while growing up, it drained the heck out of me physically and mentally but I fought the good fight. I am a masculine-presenting woman and the first daughter of my parents. Where I come from there are certain values expected of women, especially first daughters. Women were

I am a pastor’s child and I am gay. I laugh out loud any time I use “Pastor’s son and gay” in the same sentence because in Nigeria it’s like saying you are white and black but I am and recently I have accepted that as my narrative. Growing up was tough for me and

I grew up with my grandmother and it was the trickiest childhood experience that I’ve seen anybody have. This story is not about me but about “Nwanyi Obi” Matriarch of the thresholds (I had to carefully put in vocabularies that’ll make this story make sense to you as much as possible). My grandmother left my