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PART ONE When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth. In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you. Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote. Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism. After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception. She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter. Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.) I was told she went on social media and insulted me. This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way. Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease. After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again. A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored. Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM Dearest Chimamanda, Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change. I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said. I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you. I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more. Have a wonderful day today. Love always. About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored. Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM Dear Chimamanda, I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say. I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life. You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down. I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me. Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well. All my love, I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.” It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral. No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all. I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person. And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you. And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is. PART TWO When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved. They sent this email. Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s. All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba. Thank you, with all my heart. PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂 About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published. Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM Greetings! I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors. I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you. All my best, Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter. After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead. Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult. When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography? Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me. I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore. I sent an email to my representative: From: Chimamanda Adichie Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM I’m writing about X She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop. Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me. I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical. It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship. To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me. I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way. Chimamanda After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote: They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints. I replied: I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so. On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote: I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably. I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on. But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me. This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’ This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me. This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others. The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true. My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it. Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories. Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior. You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name? You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it? What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way? Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist. PART THREE In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship. I find it obscene. There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class. People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’ People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy. People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.) And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow. I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene. Source

Would you rather be stuck with Toke or Tacha for a month for N2m?

Do you agree with him?

"I don't play, I slay" -Bisi Alimi says

Lonwabo Jack, a 22-year-old gay man, was murdered in Cape Town, South Africa on Sunday, according to police. Jack, who was out with his friends celebrating his birthday, was sexually assaulted and stabbed to death in Nyanga, a town in the Western Cape, a township home to nearly 58,000 people. His father, Mzwabantu, remembered Jack as a “nice kid” who was “always surrounded by his friends and liked fun and good times.” “He was a quiet kid and would not say some of the things he would experience because he felt like he could handle them just like any other man,” he told the South African news website Independent Online. “However, when he told us that he was raped we knew as his parents that we had to take a stand.” “It’s heartbreaking to give birth to a child and also bury them,” Mzwabantu added. A suspect in Lonwabo’s murder was reportedly detained following a police investigation. A representative for the ‎South African Police Service did not identify a suspect but claimed in comments to the website Eyewitness News that a 17-year-old individual “was apprehended early this morning.” “He is expected to appear in the Athlone Magistrates Court once he has been charged with murder,” said media liaison officer Noloyiso Rwexana. The escalation of hate crimes against LGBTQ+ South Africans has prompted concern and outcry from local LGBTQ+ community members and organizations. According to the U.K. LGBTQ+ publication PinkNews, Jack is believed to be the fourth LGBTQ+ person murdered in the country in less than a month. LGBTQ+ advocates led a Friday protest at the Houses of Parliament in Cape Town. Protesters demanded that the country’s government take action to address the surge of anti-LGBTQ+ violence and to specifically call for justice in the case of Andile “Lulu” Ntuthela, a 40-year-old gay man who was recently murdered in the Eastern Cape. As PinkNews reported, Ntuthela’s body was discovered in a shallow grave 11 days after he was killed. The suspect, who is 28 years old, has not been named in media reports. The group also delivered a memorandum to parliament, in which they called for increased government action in the face of these hate crimes, as well as for harsher punishments for offenders and for the development of long-term solutions. “We are calling for justice for Lulu and and for other queers who have suffered at the hands of this country in the most brutal ways,” said Kamva Gwana, a representative of the group Justice for Lulu, in comments cited by South Africa’s News 24. “We want hate crimes to be dealt with. We believe the police service is queerphobic and we are done begging the public and the government for change.” Source

He pointed out that such people have no problems with a Chinese man speaking English with a Chinese accent. But when an Igbo man speaks English with an Igbo accent, he's laughed at and called Igbotic. Source

In societies where homosexuals face severe social stigma and potential criminal penalties under harsh laws, gay and bisexual men often turn to marrying straight women either to hide their own orientation or meet social and family expectations. Queer men in Nigeria often say they choose to marry women to preserve the privileges that are afforded to them when they “pass” as heterosexual. Phillip, a Lagos-based Nigerian bisexual, says his job at a top tech consultancy firm would be at risk if he were known to be queer. “I love men and if I am given the opportunity I will choose to marry a man. But how can I even do that? Everything is on the line here. I will lose everything including my precious job. In fact, I’ll be jailed and humiliated. I can’t stand all of that, that’s why I am going to marry a woman, and of course, she doesn’t have to know,” Phillip says. But while queer men face extreme social pressures to conform and marry women, this can put their female partners in difficult situations as well. To explore these struggles, five straight Nigerian women who married gay and bisexual men shared their stories. “He deceived me” Judith, a mother of two teenage boys, says though it wasn’t entirely bad being married to her ex-husband, whom she described as “loving and caring.” But she admits that it was really painful to discover that her husband lied to her throughout their marriage. “What pains me is that he deceived me. He loved men, yet married me. After I found out about him and his young lover, he admitted that he never loved me, but liked me and that he won’t be able to change,” Judith says. “We were married for 15 years. I don’t think I will be able to forgive him even though he was a good man and took care of us. He is a very loving and caring man. I will admit that about him,” she says. “Eager to change” Not every woman who is married to a gay or bisexual man is completely oblivious to his sexual orientation. Elisa, whose marriage did not endure a full year, says she was aware her ex-husband was gay. “I knew about who he is from the very beginning. We spoke about it several times, and he sounded like someone who was also eager to change,” Elisa says. “But it all crashed after I caught him crying one night that he was tired of denying his true nature. He said he was no longer happy. “I tried everything, even seeing our pastor, but nothing changed. He became even more miserable and depressed. It was last year that we both decided to go our separate ways after eight months of being married,” she says. “I gave him everything” Due to widespread misconceptions about homosexuality, many believe that being gay is all about a lack of access to sex with women. Victoria, an Enugu-based fashion designer, is one of those who believed so but is now very disappointed and shocked to find out that this is false. “Everything is still a dream to me. I loved him, gave him everything that a good wife gives to her husband, I never cheated on him, not to talk of the numerous times we had sex, yet he chooses to remain in that dirty act. Sleeping with a man like him, so disgusting. It is not easy leaving, but I can’t remain in that marriage” Victoria says. “He only wanted my womb” Some gay and bisexual men find selfish reasons to justify marrying women. Agnes, a 27-year-old banker, says her husband told her that all he wanted was to have kids and the only option was to marry a woman. “I feel completely used. How wicked. He only wanted my womb,” Agnes says. “After three years of being married to that scumbag, he told me he was leaving the marriage and that I wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted. Something was so off, so I had to dig him. To cut the long story short, it turned out he was gay and tired of being with a woman. I exposed him before leaving, and I am sure he will forever regret it.” “All I feel for him is pity” Sometimes, gay and bisexual men are pressured by their families to marry women. Patience, a Lagos-based fruit seller, is in a similar situation. However, she seems to have accepted her situation with some positivity. She says she doesn’t quite blame her husband for not letting her know that he is gay before he proposed, stating that her husband was pressured by his family. “I understand with my husband. He is the only son of his family and they want him to marry so that he can continue the family’s lineage. But I am not happy,” Patience says. “Every time he leaves the house I am afraid. He likes young boys. It was after I caught him sleeping with our house help that I knew. Now all I feel for him is pity. I am going to stay with him because we have a child together and I can’t raise my child without him.” Source

What an interesting perspective on relationship and friendship from Silverline. Enjoy!

Copied Is there anyone in a lesbian polygamous relationship or experience BDSM? This is a judgement free zone.

Social Media Tales A sexy woman approaches you. The first words that come out of her mouth turn you off. What did she say?

Presiding Bishop of Living Faith Church Worldwide popularly known as Winners’ Chapel International, David Oyedepo, via his Twitter account has stated that people who don’t pay tithe are “under a financial curse” and can never prosper.

You are about to eat this food and receive a break-up message from your partner. What will you do? Will you eat or walk away?

Vanity Fair has commissioned a Black photographer to shoot its cover for the first time, an overdue step for a magazine that has long weathered criticism for a lack of diverse racial representation in its pages. The cover of the magazine’s July/August issue, featuring actor Viola Davis, was shot by photographer Dario Calmese, whose photo of Davis aims to reimagine her as “as both the Black Madonna — associated with empowerment, transformation and change — as well as the Greek Goddess Athena — who represents justice, triumph and wisdom.” “This image reclaims that narrative, transmuting the white gaze on Black suffering into the Black gaze of grace, elegance, and beauty,” he said in the magazine. The image was inspired by an 1863 photograph of Peter Gordon, a runaway Black enslaved person, featured in a special issue of Harper’s Weekly during the Civil War. In the accompanying cover story, Davis herself pointed out the long-standing lack of Black representation on the iconic magazine’s covers. “They’ve had a problem in the past with putting Black women on the covers,” Davis said. “But that’s a lot of magazines, that’s a lot of beauty campaigns. There’s a real absence of dark-skinned Black women. When you couple that with what’s going on in our culture, and how they treat Black women, you have a double whammy. You are putting us in a complete cloak of invisibility.” “Davis is right, about Black women — and men (and, for that matter, other people of color as well as LGBTQ+ subjects),” Vanity Fair editor-in-chief Radhika Jones wrote in an editor’s letter introducing the new issue. “For most of the magazine’s history, a Black artist, athlete, or politician appearing on a regular monthly issue of Vanity Fair was a rare occurrence. In our archives, excluding groups and special issues, we count 17 Black people on the cover of Vanity Fair in the 35 years between 1983 and 2017.” The magazine has had several iterations dating back to 1913. Jones wrote that “to the best of our knowledge, it is the first Vanity Fair cover made by a Black photographer.” The long overdue step was sparked by the reckoning over racial inequity currently happening across many industries, including media — and at Condé Nast, Vanity Fair’s parent company, in particular. Last month, Bon Appétit editor Adam Rapoport resigned after freelance food journalist Tammie Teclemariam resurfaced a racist photo of him. His resignation opened deeper conversations on the ways the magazine has underpaid and undervalued staffers of color. The outlet has also exoticized or co-opted dishes, ingredients and culinary practices that originated in communities of color, including by featuring white chefs or food writers as supposed experts. Days later, Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour acknowledged to the magazine’s staff that “Vogue has not found enough ways to elevate and give space to Black editors, writers, photographers, designers and other creators,” she wrote in an internal email. “We have made mistakes too, publishing images or stories that have been hurtful or intolerant. I take full responsibility for those mistakes.” In 2018, after 126 years, Vogue’s cover was shot by a Black photographer for the first time. The cover star was Beyoncé, who was given complete control and pushed for a Black photographer, selecting Tyler Mitchell to photograph her for the cover. Last week, Vogue released its newest cover, which features gymnast Simone Biles, shot by legendary photographer Annie Leibovitz. But observers quickly pointed out that the magazine could have commissioned a Black photographer instead. For her part, Jones, who became Vanity Fair’s top editor at the end of 2017, has pushed for a wider range of stars to be featured on its cover and its pages. That began with actor and writer Lena Waithe, who was photographed by Leibovitz for the cover of Jones’ first issue at the helm, in April 2018 — marking a new direction for the magazine. “No amount of praise or censure affects me, in my current role, so much as the hope that our choices might inspire a young person — a future actor, director, photographer, writer — to pursue their own creative vision or imagine themself in our pages,” Jones wrote Tuesday. “Iconography carries influence.” Source

This is his story (with modest editing and a few typographical errors corrected): The 19th of May 2020 was the luckiest day of my life. It was a sweet-bitter experience. It started at about 5:45 pm. I got a phone call from an acquaintance of mine who happened to have visited my house once sometime last month, saying that “he was in the area and wanted to come and say hi”. I admitted that I was home and that he was welcome to come. Lo and behold, at 5:58 pm my doorbell rang, and, when I opened up, I saw a team of six police officers from SARS [the Special Anti-Robbery Squad], all geared up and the said acquaintance was standing in front of them, cuffed. I was dumbfounded and, at the same time, surprised to see this person in handcuffs in the company of police officers because of how responsible and smart this individual was. Before I could ask any questions, the officers asked if I knew their suspect and I replied yes. That was when all hell broke loose. They barged into my home and began to enter into all the rooms and compartments, ransacking my house and roughly searching my personal belongings. While I was busy asking the officers their reasons for this invasion, they were busy handcuffing me while turning my bedroom upside down. Upon further inquiring about their station and the warrant for this arrest, one of the officers gave me a slap that rang bells in my ears. At this point, I just needed to calm down and follow the situation as it unfolded. I asked that I may wear my clothes because I had only boxers. While in cuffs, I put on my pants and hung my shirt on my shoulder as they took my phones, wallet, and house keys and ordered me out of the house. I managed to lock the front door. They dragged me down the stairs. Bear in mind, they not yet told me what my crime was. When we got to the gate, I saw their Sienna car and recognized their station,` which happened to be the dreaded Safe Delta Squad. The police command in Delta state had set up a special operational squad named “Safe Delta” to fight against kidnapping, cultism, and other criminal activities throughout the three senatorial districts of the state. This squad is the most dreaded and toughest among the Delta State Police Force. To give you a clear picture of how they operate: If you happen to be a victim, your phones will be confiscated and nobody will know your whereabouts until they are done with their investigations. Their station is located along the Asaba-Benin expressway before Isselle-Asagba, which is two villages after the Asaba metropolitan. Only a few know exactly where this station is located and mostly those who have in one way or the other became their victims, particularly, young men that look good and drive good cars. Well, that is a story for another day. They dragged me inside their car and zoomed off in the presence of onlookers. While we were on our way, I kept asking the acquaintance what led to the situation. I kept asking the officers what his crime was while equally letting them know that I am a Human Rights Defender and have worked with the police in the State to combat crimes. I stated how I knew their former commander and my organization’s contributions to the police force in Asaba. I was doing all these so I could get them to at least tell me what’s going on. But unfortunately, they were calling my bluff. In all these, I refrained from exposing my identity cards until I was sure of the crime in question. On getting to the station, they kept me behind the counter while they were busy facilitating the bail of this suspect that brought them to my house. After about 10 minutes, they called me into one of the offices, unlocked the cuffs, and showed me my Whatsapp chat with this said acquaintance. I asked the officer reading the chat, the essence of repeating conversations I already know I had with the said person. That was when he told me that the said individual admitted that he was a homosexual and claimed that I have been his enabler. At this point I got a clear picture of the situation and geared myself for the drama that followed. As all these were going on, I remembered that #IDAHOBIT2020 just happened two days before and the theme #BreakingTheSilence informed my decision to out myself to the police officers by fearlessly and courageously admitting before the officers that I am a gay man and that I work with an organisation that offers services, particularly sexual health care, HIV prevention, treatment and care for gay men in the State. And that the said person was a client at LIFFE’s facility, of which I happen to be the programs director and no other strings attached. That was when the Investigating Police Officer (IPO) said that I am a criminal and that my work was contrary the Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act (SSMPA) and that I was arrested in connection to a crime of planned bank robbery which involved homosexual men who the said acquaintance was chatting with on Whatsapp. I was quick to recite the language of the SSMPA and reminded them that being gay as an identity is not yet a crime in Nigeria. One particular officer kept asking me if God was happy with me and if I know the implications of what I was saying. It became like a tussle of words because I never gave in to their intimidating and derogatory words. I responded with real facts and stood my ground. At this point, at about 7:50 pm the said suspect was bailed and he left with his surety while I was handed a police statement sheet to write my statement based on questions the IPO asked me. I kept on demanding that I needed my phones to make calls but the officer was busy perusing through my chats and photo gallery and wowing at the erotic photos of men on my phone. To cut this long episode short, I wrote my statement and my detention order was prepared. At about 8:35 pm, I was detained inside the police cell without the option of contacting anybody. At the early hours of 20th May 2020, LIFFE’s Project Manager (PM) Obinna Obiasulu Samuel was able to locate the police station where I was, after many efforts in visiting all the police stations in town the previous night when the news of my arrests came to light. The arrogant IPO asked him to leave and come back at 4 pm without granting audience or even allowing him to meet with me. Through all of this, I kept my wits and maintained my boldness to the awe of the cell inmates who I engaged in a conversation about human sexuality conversation, after which they admitted to having learned new things. Even though some of their homophobia was glaring, we had a good conversation, shared experiences, and learned from each other to the surprise of the rogue officers who thought they would have beaten me up. Finally, the PM was able to get the Delta State Police Headquarters to call the station’s Commander and demanded that my immediate release be effected. This came as a surprise and shock to them and my bail was immediately facilitated at the return of the PM without the presence of the IPO. They demanded 150,000 naira [about U.S. $385] for my bail and the PM who had already corroborated my statements made them understand that bail is free. At about 5:45 pm, I returned safely to my house but I will go back to the station to recover my phones as it was in the possession of the IPO who was absent at the time of my bail. Although I longer feel safe in my house and stand the risk of police arbitrary arrest anytime, I was fulfilled that I had borne true witness of my identity even in the toughest situation and before law enforcement officers without fear or shame. I was fulfilled and glad that I was able to break the silence and shame associated with homosexuality before policemen who are so quick to extort gay men by threatening to charge them in court if they refuse to admit to the crime of homosexuality. In this case, I admitted my homosexuality but made sure to erase any foreseen crime. Even though they pressured me to admit to gay sex by asking who my partner was and how I practice the said homosexuality but part of my statement read thus “I have been aware of my innate and natural attractions to same-sex but I have never acted on it all my life”. Wisdom, they say, is profitable to the wise. Source

Social Media Tales Have you ever been on a date with someone & you plan to friend zone them after the 1st date?

Recycle genius, Bamigbose Adams has revealed how he got inspired to join the fight against COVID-19 in Nigeria by turning used drums into hand washing basins.

A Nigerian boy is being celebrated after he broke two records in his school in the U.S. Timi Adelakun, 18, became the first black valedictorian of South Broward High School in Hollywood, Florida. Also, he made history again by having the highest GPA ever recorded at the school. "Coming from a low-income community, it means a lot in general because of the way I was brought up," Adelakun said in an interview ABC News. Timi, who has a 5.604 GPA, is the youngest child of three siblings and neither of his parents attended college. He said that his major accomplishment is somewhat bittersweet because his father - who was deported over a decade ago - won't be there to celebrate with him. Adelakun's achievement comes after years of financial struggles. At his young age, the teenager has had to help his mum pay bills by engaging in side hustles, such as graphic design and photography. To save money for the family, he sometimes walked to school if he missed the bus. Source

LGBTIQ+ Nigerians have expressed fears over increased vulnerability since the lockdown began. Unemployment, depression, loneliness, reduced access to HIV care and support, domestic violence and homelessness are growing problems for LGBTIQ+ community members. For some, the problems begin at home. Festus (name changed for safety), a gay youth in Lagos who reached out to NoStrings via chat, said the lockdown has left him hungry and afraid of what his homophobic father might do to him. “I think I am going to run mad. My father has refused to provide food since he found out that I am gay a few days ago. He went through my phone after I slept off and read all my chats. Now he wants me to leave the house.” Festus, who is currently in training for a career in fashion and designing, said his father has made his life hell. He often has to sleep on an empty stomach. “My father said I should be going out during the day, that he doesn’t want to see me, else he might be tempted to kill me. Now I go out and most times wander on the street before returning back home to sleep at night. He has also asked me to leave immediately after the lockdown.” Festus said he is currently looking for a place to stay whilst still pursuing his dreams of becoming a fashion designer. “I am looking for a place to live. I don’t want to commit suicide. It’s hard staying at home. My father hates me so much I can see it. I just want to finish my training and see how I can get my life together,” he said. Source

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