On 29 May 2023, Uganda passed its draconian anti-homosexuality law, rolling back what little progress had been made in the preceding decades of LGBTQIA+ activism. Despite a court petition by 22 activists, including two featured here, on 3 April this year, the country’s Constitutional Court largely upheld the law, including its harshest clauses – a death penalty and life imprisonment in some cases. Speaking to Lydia Namubiru, three Ugandan activists reflect on the path forward
“Our Fragile And Flawed Movement Has Been Fractured Further”
Shawn Mugisha is a grassroots LGBTQIA+ activist who co-founded Ubuntu Law and Justice Centre, a community-led legal aid provider
“With the anti-gender movement relentlessly targeting our community, the past two years have been marked with turmoil. On the other hand, the movement has also done a lot of advocacy for us: everywhere in Uganda now, people know what the rainbow flag stands for. [But] within our own community, we’ve also seen the rise of the ‘ex-gays’ [homophobic supporters of the anti-LGBTQIA+ laws who sometimes claim they were ‘recruited’ into homosexuality against their will]. One particular person [Elisha Mukisa] did a lot of damage to the community, spreading misinformation and lies.
The law increased violence within our communities. There were marches in parts of Uganda against homosexuality organised by Muslim clerics – after which we saw people losing jobs [and] teachers attacked within schools, just because they looked or lived a certain way. We saw lots of evictions. The law criminalised landlords who rent to LGBTQIA+ people. My own landlord increased our rent from $500 to $1,500 to get us out and it worked. That provision was struck out in April by the Constitutional Court.
This turmoil exposed the weaknesses in our organising. We have largely been a badly coordinated movement with factions, often led by cishet people who argued that the LGBTQIA+ community did not have the capacity to defend itself. When the law was passed each faction filed its own petition before the court, which then had to merge five petitions into one. Everybody brought their lawyers – 15 lawyers arguing with each other until judgement day!
Before the law, I used to respond personally when LGBTQIA+ people were arrested. I engaged the police, joking around and having human-to-human conversations with them. But since the law, I rely on other paralegals to be the first responders. Police stations became a sort of a trap for me.
The past two years deepened my questioning of the NGO (non-governmental organisation) system that has led our movement so far. No one seems to craft lasting solutions. When the court struck out the provision on landlords, some donors stopped aid supporting evicted LGBTQIA+ people, even though evictions are still the most common violation happening. In the NGO framework, there is always a disconnection between reality and our support systems.
I still don’t know how we will survive and organise better. “What can I continue to do with all my vulnerabilities?” is the question on my mind every day.
“We Need To Divest From The Nation-State”
Jackline Kemigisa is a researcher, journalist and LGBTQIA+ activist
In the immediate aftermath of Uganda passing its anti-homosexuality law, I asked the people in [my] community what I could do. What they needed were people to sign a court petition against the law and be present, so I joined the petition as an act of love. But the court process confirmed everything that I thought was true with how the power of the nation state operates.
In Africa, the very legality of nation-states is contested because of their history and how they came to be: colonialism. The elite buy into it, but the system has no interest in Ugandans outside those who are interested in capital. The idea that we can then find justice within that framework is a fallacy. When the Constitutional Court upheld the law and denied us justice, it crystalised the contradictions of organising within the nation-state. Against us, the court acted as it was built to do in that system: protect the governors.
Queer people buying into the nation-state doesn’t make any sense. We only legitimise its violences by engaging with it. Thinking of communities that live outside of its framing – ethnic minorities like the Batwa or border communities – there is room for queer people to divest from the structure of the Ugandan state too.
Outside the nation-state structures, as a society, we are elastic enough to accommodate people we “other” and just simply name them other [without resorting to violence]. Within the nation-state, we are constantly negotiating for our lives. I would rather we invested in living and negotiating co-existence with the other communities living on the land marked Uganda. As a movement, we can decide to channel all the funding that previously went into NGOs, court petitions and other engagement with the state directly into the pockets of queer Ugandans to affirm life. I think we have better chances there.
“More People Like Me Should Show Up For This Cause”
Linda Mutesi is a lawyer, activist and social entrepreneur
I joined the petition against the law because I wanted a physical outlet for all the emotion that came with it. I am married and have children. I cannot be attacked as vehemently as they would attack a gay or queer-presenting person. When they look at me, you see them look at themselves and wonder, “What is she doing there? We know her womb makes children. She ticks all the heteronormative boxes.”
More people like me should show up for this cause. They keep saying they are speaking for ‘the Ugandans’. Who are those Ugandans? I am not one of them.
I was partly surprised by the outcome of the petition. I have faith in the law. There are a few tenets that are foundational: people should have a right to health, and human rights are human rights. But we know the [judges] pander to the political arm of the state. The courts are not a check or balance. Juxtapose that with who the judges are –they practise Christianity, some are known to host overnight prayers, have pastors and own churches – and I was only mildly surprised by the outcome.
The ruling, a political statement not based on the law, was very disheartening. I listened when it was being read but still can’t read it in full. I pick it up and think, “I just can’t.”
By and large, I agree that we should stop legitimising the nation-state. But then, the nation-state is not going anywhere. To divest ourselves while the machine continues to grind and shape things is incredibly precarious. As long as the state is here, we must continue to go to the courts. I like that we made ‘the machinery’ angry. They know that when they go after gay people, some people will not let [them] have what [they] want – and the number is growing.
Lydia Namubiru is the editor-in-chief of The Continent, a pan-African weekly magazine
