Limit(less) Project: Uche

Limit(less) is a documentary photography project by Mikael Owunna exploring the visual aesthetics of LGBTQ African immigrants. For more on the project, follow us on TumblrInstagramFacebook and Flickr

Also please Donate to Support the Project.

Uche: Queer Nigerian-American 

Q. What’s your name, country of origin, ethnicity, preferred gender pronoun, and how do you identify in terms of your LGBTQ identity?

My name is Uche. I was born in the United States, but I identify with (and my family is from) Nigeria. I am Igbo. My pronouns are she and they. I identify as a queer woman.

Q. How would you describe your style?

My style is something that I’ve struggled with for a while. Between not having the money that I need to look how I want and not having the body that I need to achieve a particular look…I’d say that my style is always somewhere right below where I want it to be.

As of late, I’ve been really trying to understand myself as a femme person. I’m really trying to figure out what femininity means to me and how I can most comfortably exude that. While I do hold privilege in being read as heteronormative/heterosexual I find that I struggle a lot with navigating how my identities are conveyed through my style. I feel like for a very long time I tried to dress and carry myself in particular ways that allowed others to see me as a femme queer woman. Currently, I wonder if it matters how others view me. I still think it does. People hold a lot of power in how you exist in the world.

So…my style…

I’ll call my style Amarachi Taylor. Anne Taylor with a mix of the patterns and textiles that remind me of the clothes my mother would wear. It’s queer to me. People look at me when I wear wraps in my hair or when I try to express my Nigerian-ness. It’s disheartening not because people dislike what I wear, but because they think it looks curious on me. I’m never understood as African. I don’t know if it’s my body, the hue of my skin, my voice…but I find that my expression of my African self is odd because I am understood as the antithesis of my culture.

Q. How do you think your style incorporates/blends elements of your African and LGBTQ identity?

I feel like my style is inherently queer because of how I display my African identity. For a long time I’ve understood myself as queer femme because of my positionality as a Black African person.

I wear the fabrics of my country in ways, in places, and with people that are queer. It’s an assertion of my culture–that it can exist even among what it views unlawful.

When I wear my wrapper around my chest to go to the store, or tie a scarf around my head at Pride, it’s a rejection of Nigerian neo-conservatism that wishes to erase me.

Q. Was there ever a time where you felt pushed away from your African or LGBTQ identities? If so, how did you overcome that personally?

In college I felt like my upbringing was un-African. I grew up around very few Nigerians, I rejected putting on fake accents (like my peers), I wasn’t raised Christian, and I didn’t come from a traditional nuclear family structure.

It took a while to understand that how other people did their Nigerian-ness has nothing to do with me. I think when I made my way to identifying as queer I also found myself accepting my Blackness. I knew that I was never going to have those experiences. I reflected a lot on my childhood and found power in having an upbringing that no one else could understand. My being Nigerian was for me. 

Q. How is your relationship with your family, and what does being “accepted” by your family look like for you?

My relationship with my mother is complicated. I don’t feel like I can be as “out” as I want to be. I respect that. I know that I won’t be the woman that family wants me to be because I’m queer. What helps me is knowing that I am happy and proud of myself (accomplishments aside). I love me and I know that I deserve love.

My relationship with my sister is awesome. She has always been supportive. Since high school when I was trying to start a GSA and hold a Day of Silence, she’s been there for me. I know that without her, my life would be hard to handle.

Being accepted means being valued for the person I am. Having not only my professional goals cherished, but my personhood cherished.

Q. What would you have to say to people who say that being LGBTQ is “un-African”?

Your idea of Africa is influenced by white missionaries and imperialists who wanted to eradicate Africans and their respective cultures. Being LGBTQ is not “un-African,” it’s un-imperialist.

Q. How was participating in the Limit(less) shoot?

The shoot was so much fun! I’m kind of an attention hog. I really love taking photos. I felt like I could really be myself.

Q. What are you most excited about for Limit(less)?

I’m excited for Limit(less) to change the perspective of Africans in Africa, the US, and abroad. I think we suffer from a very monolithic understanding of Africans, and that doesn’t help unify us. It’s really destructive. Projects like Limit(less) are the change makers we need.

Q. Where are you comfortable with people reaching you on social media?

Follow me on tumblr: naijasoulcandy.tumblr.com



Limit(less) Project: Gesiye

Limit(less) is a documentary photography project by Mikael Owunna exploring the visual aesthetics of LGBTQ African immigrants. For more on the project, follow us on TumblrInstagramFacebook and Flickr

Also please Donate to Support the Project.

Gesiye: Bisexual/Queer Nigerian-Trinidadian (shot in Trinidad)

Q. What’s your name, country of origin, ethnicity, preferred gender pronoun, and how do you identify in terms of your LGBTQ identity?

My name is Gesiye, which in Ijaw means ‘someone of truth.’ I’m Nigerian-Trinidadian, born and raised in Trinidad & Tobago. My pgp’s are she/her/hers and I identify as bisexual/queer.

Q. How would you describe your style?

As my friend Gabe recently said, it’s more of a “postmodern Angela Davis.”

I mostly wear neutral colors, with the occasional head wrap or print, staying pretty comfortable and casual. 

Q. How do you think your style incorporates/blends elements of your African and LGBTQ identity?

I don’t limit my African or LGBTQ identity to one form of expression, everything I wear is and can be a blend of these identities because that’s who I am and how I’m choosing to define it.

Q. Was there ever a time where you felt pushed away from your African or LGBTQ identities? If so, how did you overcome that personally?

I grew up in the Caribbean, so my African identity is closely linked to that part of the diaspora. In Trinidad, colourism/shadeism plays a huge role in structuring privilege in everyday life. For me, benefitting from the privilege of having lighter skin in my society also meant that I was constantly being pushed away from my African heritage, growing up being told that I was “not really black,” or that I was “too light to be Nigerian.” 

On the other hand, growing up knowing that I was attracted to both men and women, while also being a cis femme woman, meant that I was constantly struggling to prove my identity to myself and others. Bisexuality sometimes feels less accepted, because people would rather you “make up your mind and just choose,” or “get over this phase” rather that “be greedy” (literally things I have heard). My ability to pass as a straight woman grants me a different level of safety than those who are more visibly queer but can also be the means through which people erase parts of my identity. I had to grow to be comfortable with who I am, and how I choose to express myself outside of what society expects; there’s no way to satisfy what everyone thinks I should be, and no way to be happy living as someone else. 

Q. How is your relationship with your family, and what does being “accepted” by your family look like for you?

I’m lucky to have a great relationship with my family, being accepted for me means being treated like my sexuality is just another part of who I am as a person, and not as a defining trait that should shape every interaction we have together.  

Q. What would you have to say to people who say that being LGBTQ is “un-African”?

I hear this a lot in the Caribbean, that the LGBTQ experience is un-African or un-natrual. From the homophobic music that we all dance and sing along to, to the fact that it’s still illegal to have sex with someone of the same gender in Trinidad. It’s exhausting. I wish we would accept/understand that gender-fluidity and same sex attraction are historically indigenous and African.

Q. How was participating in the Limit(less) shoot?

Really wonderful! It was so strange being on the other side of the camera, but it helped me learn what that feels like.

Q. Where are you comfortable with people reaching you on social media?

My instagram is @gesiye and my website where I post my photography and video art is www.gesiye.com



Limit(less) Project: Carol Chibueze

Limit(less) is a documentary photography project by Mikael Owunna exploring the visual aesthetics of LGBTQ African immigrants. For more on the project, follow us on TumblrInstagramFacebook and Flickr

Also please Donate to Support the Project.

Carol Chibueze: Queer Nigerian-American (shot in Trinidad)

Q. What’s your name, country of origin, ethnicity, preferred gender pronoun, and how do you identify in terms of your LGBTQ identity?

My name is Carol Chibueze. I was born and raised in the United States. I am Nigerian-American and biracial (half white). My pronouns are she/her/hers. I don’t really identify as anything in particular, but I feel most comfortable with the label “queer.”

Q. How would you describe your style?

My brother from another mother, Gabriel, once described my style as “Erykah Badu in ‘95 mixed with Maya Angelou” and I think that is pretty accurate. Black auntie swag and Black Femme Power are also terms that describe my style pretty well. Another friend, Richie, has called me a “Naija Eartha Kitt” when describing my clothes, which I would love to think is true, since Eartha Kitt is a personal hero of mine. 

Q. How do you think your style incorporates/blends elements of your African and LGBTQ identity?

I don’t purposefully incorporate my sexuality or my African heritage into my look. I usually dress based on the weather and the events of the day, with an emphasis on feeling good in what I wear. I love to wear lots of colors and interesting patterns - often these can be Nigerian cloth that I wear in the form of dresses, shirts, and lots of headwraps. I wear a lot of African jewelry that I bought when I visited Nigeria as a teenager.

Recently I have felt a lot more at ease wearing stereotypically feminine clothing as I explore my identity as a black femme woman. When I was younger, I used to be a lot more concerned with being read as “not straight” through how I dressed, but as I’ve become more comfortable with myself, I stopped caring about that. I’ve tried to move away from coding myself or others as queer through something as subjective (and often racialized and gendered) as fashion. Still, I have always liked to incorporate more tomboyish accessories like snapbacks, blazers, bowties or men’s shoes into my wardrobe, and I like playing with stereotypically feminine and masculine attire, occasionally at the same time. I sometimes like to dress more masculine when wearing formal attire; other times I will wear full Nigerian traditional clothes, especially my late grandmother’s headscarf. But overall I don’t consciously think about how my sexuality and my culture inform my style - I just wear what I want.

Q. Was there ever a time where you felt pushed away from your African or LGBTQ identities? If so, how did you overcome that personally?

These identities are inextricably linked for me, and I have never necessarily felt like they were/are opposed. However, I have often felt pushed away from my Blackness and African-ness in LGBTQ spaces in the US, which can be very white, sometimes racist, and erasing of QTPOC perspectives. There have been a few situations where I felt like my queerness did not fit in certain African spaces, but I have encountered the former much more than the latter. I feel most at home among other queer folks of color, especially Black queer people, and that has helped me overcome any lingering feelings of dissonance between my sexuality and my heritage. 

Q. How is your relationship with your family, and what does being “accepted” by your family look like for you?

This is a difficult question for me. I resent Western notions of “coming out” and unconditional “acceptance” pushed as the ideal narrative for all LGBTQ-identified peoples. These are very white, mainstream concepts that do not allow for the dangerous, destructive effects colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism have had on brown and black countries that are often lambasted as “homophobic” or “intolerant” without context. I have never “come out” and my family already accepts me as their daughter, niece, goddaughter, sister, etc. For me, my sexuality does not necessarily change the strength of our bond, even if they don’t always embrace it wholeheartedly.

It’s also something that looks so different for everyone, especially among the diversity of queer folks of color. Sometimes “acceptance” means baby steps, hard conversations, silences, inside jokes, undiscussed topics, tears, laughter, probing questions, explanations, leaps and bounds, and other times it feels like nothing has ever changed. At the same time, it does not mean it is easy when the people you care about most don’t understand or reject part of who you are or how you live/love. So I don’t focus on being “accepted” by others in a traditional sense, including some of my extended family. I know who cares about me no matter what and I am secure in that knowledge. 

Q. What would you have to say to people who say that being LGBTQ is “un-African”?

I don’t really have anything to say to that kind of bigotry. Go read a book, I guess?

Just kidding: I feel that while this is an unfortunately common sentiment among many contemporary African peoples who are influenced by Western Christian evangelism, neocolonialism, religious fundamentalism, and nationalistic conservatism, it is such a tired, ignorant statement. Anyone who has studied African history or read about pre-colonial indigenous peoples on the continent knows that diversity of gender and sexuality has been present from the start. To view African LGBTQ folks as “un-African” is to fall into the trap created by white supremacy centuries before. Gender binaries and heterosexuality are imperialist social concepts created, in part, to regulate and differentiate black and brown peoples from white people. In reality, intense homophobia and transphobia are the true “un-African” sentiments. They are directly connected to leftover European anti-buggery laws created to control and dehumanize African peoples during colonization. That comes from non-African white people, not us.

Anyone who doesn’t know all this can read this Guardian article by Bernadine Evaristo or this blog post by Colin Stewart on the website “76 Crimes” to begin to learn more.

So, seriously: go read something and then we can talk.

Q. How was participating in the Limit(less) shoot?

It was really fun! I had a good time collaborating with Mikael to get a multitude of shots and looks for the shoot. It was fun to think about different ways to capture my style and heritage while also referencing different artists and artworks that I love. 

Q. What are you most excited about for Limit(less)?

I am excited about the ways it is expanding the popular images of LGBTQ folks. In the US and globally, people often imagine white people when thinking about queer aesthetics or the LGBTQ community as a whole. Limit(less) directly combats these invisibilizing and often anti-black stereotypes by putting queer African people at the center and showing all viewers that we exist on our own terms - racism, colonialism, religiousity, imperialism, queer-antagonism and patriarchy be damned. It is a visibility project that is very necessary and needs to be told by Africans for other Africans, and by extension to the rest of the world. I am very grateful to Mikael for doing it and I am glad to take part. 

Q. Where are you comfortable with people reaching you on social media?

Tumblr: deathwalkingbackwards.tumblr.com

Instagram: carefreeblackauntie


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