Invisible
Kevin Mwachiro, is an author, activist & former BBC journalist, currently living in Kenya. For our latest community talk in December, World Aids Day on Dec 1st heralded the opportunity to reflect on life through a broader lens. Reading extracts from his book: Invisible, the author, delivers a heartfelt queer perspective over Zoom, from his family home. With thanks to Jason Forest for hosting the talk.
Invisible is a Kenyan story made up of many tales. Although the issue of sexual orientation and gender identity is a very controversial topic in Kenya, the queer community has recently struggled to make itself more visible.
Kevin Mwachiro has taken on the task of collecting stories from this community. Covering young to old Kenyans and city dwellers to rural ones, Mwachiro has transcribed the accounts of men and women who have chosen to remain true to themselves despite the many odds that they have faced. Invisible is an exploration of their respective journeys.
Buy the book here
“Yes,” says Mwachiro, “it is possible to be queer in Africa and as Chimamanda says, we can be many stories.” Gay sex in Kenya is punishable by up to 14 years in prison - a challenge to this law was rejected in 2019.
Although prosecutions under this law are uncommon and attitudes towards gay people are more liberal than in neighbouring countries such as Uganda and Tanzania many members of the queer community live in communities that are othered and are shunned by their families in this deeply religious country. “I’m proudly gay,” says Mwachiro. “Representation is vital because we are missing this visibility in the global south.”
In a landscape where hetero-normative identities design the social and spiritual agenda, this author was clear that his book would not be a simple collection of middle-class city dweller voices. “There isn’t one form of queerness, we need to explore contemporary and traditional narratives. There are stories within, that for many years have been vaulted in hearts and minds. Homophobia still exists in Kenya and the gay community is not given the space to tell their stories or even determine how they want to be depicted in the public eye.”
One story illustrates the struggle with heartbreaking clarity: Told by his mother that normal boys are not meant to feel these things before sending for the priest, one young man must pray but the prayers don’t help. Another priest is brought in and deemed to be more effective. While undergoing this ‘conversion therapy,’ the young man must also conduct a cattle raid against a neighbouring tribe as proof of both his manhood and his readiness for marriage. He is trapped, forced to live a life he cannot sustain.
“We are being told we are against family values and we are susceptible to accusations of paedophilia. The moral card is that the family is under threat and it is our fault. I was fearful of my mother’s rejection, surrounded by heteronormativity and scared of my own intense feelings, it took me a long time to find my voice. I’m envious of people who came out early.”
There is admiration too however and in writing Invisible, Mwachiro’s goal was to unite and amplify the voices, feelings and hopes of queer communities. There was cynicism at first. “People accused me of making it up, but the launch was the best one that my publishers had experienced. We had so many people we ran out of books at the launch and the room was so full.”
“We are so bereft of these stories and we have to normalise our existence across all sections of society.” Swimming against cultural inclinations to be fearful of queerness is important for all of us. On this Mwachiro is clear, “many think that if they ignore queerness it will go away. We all know this is not the case. The media shuts us out but we will make narratives that normalise our lives,”
Mwachiro is referring to Rafiki: The lesbian love story that was banned by the country's film classification board. (Its director won a week's suspension in order to meet the requirements of a week’s domestic screening for entry at the Cannes Film Festival.) For a short while the cinemas were packed and Rafiki was the first Kenyan movie to screen at Cannes. Then once more it was banned. But new creativity is slowly building bridges.
“These are the narratives that can change lives, once people realise they are not alone,” says Mwachiro who is heartened that one of the stars of top Kenyan band Sauti Sol, Willis Austin Chimano, has come out as gay, telling press that he no longer wants to live a lie.
“So many young queer people are turning to fashion and image. We have a growing community of designers and stylists. I get excited when I see how young Kenyans are using their culture to express themselves. Arts and Culture is very powerful.”
“While there are so many areas of invisibility for us, standard listings, such as the recently published Top 100 Kenyans, which did not feature a single queer or differently abled person must be challenged. We cannot be othering, others.” concludes Mwachiro, who has received a great deal of love from the FACE audience in the Zoom chat box. Society, we all agree as the talk comes to a close, promotes hyper masculinity, as though this somehow, is the most noble and honest identity there is. More celebration is needed for gay rights activists - true warriors dedicated to the truth of what it is to be human and courageously calling for a more accepting world. We give you Kevin Mwachiro.
Text Caryn Franklin.
Community comments
FR: Thank you so much Kevin, I admire your bravery so much, I grew up my whole childhood in Kenya, I would still say kenya is my home, specifically Nanyuki and Molo for 11 years, and I still feel like my own identity has been some way shapes by negative things I heard throughout my school years and boarding school, many of which involved the consequences of someone being queer in kenya, which I think may be too triggering to put in the chat, family friends who were queer were almost presented as secrets you had to keep, I remember my mum telling me not to talk about him around others and it just felt horrible. Kenyans are the kindest and friendliest people you’ll meet, which is why it felt so bizarre and opposite
KGM If you aren’t in an environment that is pro-gay you feel as if you are in an anti-gay place. I feel that - we are okay with who we are but know our families won't be. Accepting yourself is hard but the hard part is getting others on board and risking losing loved ones
MCB I was outed by a friend when I was seventeen, my family sent me to Jamaica and there was a risk that I may not be allowed to return to the UK. Thankfully I returned, but my Mum being very religious, reinforces her argument with being anti gay.
KGM The only moral threat is intolerance, learned behaviour can be unlearned
FM Yeah I always get comments about doing fashion, sometimes it can feel liberating to challenge this stereotypes but can become draining
LM Such powerful words and thank you Kevin for sharing your experiences and beautiful words, I have learnt so much from this.
AC Thank you Kevin, governments and religion create fear and more fear because they feel they are losing control of the narrative, because as soon as others begin understanding, have empathy and accept, those with perceived power have lost the so called moral ground.
AC Kevin, you are incredible, inspiring and truly a testament to queerness. Thank you
SL Thank you Kevin - the discussion around queer representation, is the beginning of a roadmap for many black families.
CP I was wondering if the Gay and Lesbian Coalition of Kenya is still in existence, and if so, have they been able to make inroads in changing public perceptions of queerness in Kenya.
Kevin replies…Hey Christopher, GALCK still exists and I serve as the board chair. It's doing a lot of work in lobbying for change at a national level.
SL Storytelling is a way of seeing yourself in a wide range of spaces.
KGM They wouldn't want to silence us if they didn't see us a threat, but we are not a threat we a movement and that scares people
CF Thank you Kevin for your passion and your activism. You are a warrior