Book Review: Blessed Body: The Secret Lives of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Nigerians

[Image: The cover of "Blessed Body" is black and gray with striped crossing vertically and diagonally. In the center is the silouhette of an African person's head. To the left is a cut out of a face with jagged teeth. In the center is the title of the book in large, light green letters with the byline in smaller white letters below it. The author's name is in white letters at the bottom of the image.]

This review can also be found on my goodreads.

Blessed Body is a book of stories from a variety of LGBT Nigerians. In Nigeria, LGBT rights are not only unrecognized, but any homosexual activity can be punishable by 14 years imprisonment. It is even illegal to hide one's knowledge of an LGBT person even if oneself is not gay. Learning these facts at a reading I attended by Unoma Azuah gave me an even greater appreciation for the level of courage it took for all of the people in this book to risk telling their stories.

This review has taken me longer to write than most. It is difficult to know the best way to discuss a book about such an important and delicate topic- as a queer, transgender, and white resident of the United States from birth- and give it the description it truly deserves.

Content note: the rest of this review contains discussion of sexual assault, physical violence, and other abuses. Proceed with care.

The stories in this book highlight well just how many barriers there are for someone in Nigeria to understand their own identity let alone express it out in the world. Due to British colonialism, the homophobia of many Christian churches was forced upon people in Nigeria. In many areas of pre-colonial Africa, including Nigeria, gender and sexual expression were allowed to be much more fluid. At times it was even seen as special and/or celebratory. In post-colonial Nigeria, many people's idea of love and acceptance for LGBT people involves taking them to church for "deliverance" which often involves physical punishments. More horrific mistreatment of LGBT people commonly includes corrective rape (where men rape perceived lesbians in feigned attempt to turn them straight) and "jungle justice" (where mobs of vigilantes take anti-homosexuality laws into their own hands, resulting in severe beatings or death of suspected LGBT people.) The stories in this book include many of these experiences.

Many people discuss not even having words for the romantic, sexual, and gendered feelings they were having at young ages since some religious Nigerians believe that there are no LGBT people in Africa. Others believe it is a manifestation of illness. And those who are accepting or are LGBT themselves must keep everything hidden. These barriers not only keep children from discovering who they are, but it also causes them to be silent when they are abused out of fear that they will be punished. Many of the stories include abuse of children and adults by others in which they blame themselves.

The book is broken into sections with different topics pertaining to the group of stories. My favorite section, and also the section with most (but not all) of the best writing, was called "Unapologetic." It is an excellent ending to a book full of very difficult stories. While it does not contain only happy stories, it does contain ways that people found acceptance of themselves and escape from self hatred, even when they were in danger. As Gamal Turawa shares in their story about their journey:

"I learnt... that being true to yourself is a powerful force that can surprise and protect you if you trust it fully. A lot of us look for that acceptance in others when we should first find it in ourselves."

My constructive criticism of this book for future editions: I wish many of the writings, especially in the beginning, were longer. It took me a little while to settle into the book because each time I began to be immersed in someone's story, it would end and move on to the next person. I wanted to know more of many of the peoples stories. I also think it could be advantageous to have an edition of the book for people around the world like myself who are ignorant of some of the laws and practices in Nigeria. Some of the specifics I discuss in this review I had learned at Azuah's talk or from research online. I think having an introduction and/or epilogue that calls attention to the differences between homosexuality and gender nonconformity in pre and post-colonial Africa and gives some extra information would put this important text in better context for many readers. These things would have pushed the book to 5 stars for me.

Blessed Body is a telling. It is a necessary sharing of experiences that are hidden and silenced boht in Nigeria and elsewhere. I am very grateful that these people took the risk of telling their stories and am grateful to Unoma Azuah for contributing and editing the text.

Book Review: Sunaura Taylor's "Beasts of Burden: Animal and Disability Liberation"

Also posted to goodreads

Image: The cover of Sunaura Taylor's book Beasts of Burden: Animal and Disability Liberation. The cover is a greyish blue with blue, yellow, and white lettering for the title and author's name. There are two figures silhouetted in white against the blue back drop. One is a cow and one is a human. Both appear to be using wheelchairs as you can see the wheels and spokes beneath each of them.

This book is spectacular. Carol Adams told me about this book about a year before it came out when I was talking to her at a conference. I mentioned that I don't know a lot of people who write about the intersection of disability and animal liberation and she told me that "Beasts of Burden" was in the works. I also read Sunaura Taylor's contribution to the Ecofeminism anthology which completely rocked my world. From that point forward, I eagerly awaited the release date of Sunaura Taylor's book. So, I went into this with very high expectations that were difficult to meet. This book surpassed them.

Sunaura tackles topics of disability and animal liberation without separating them from each other or many of the other oppressions that are intertwined with them like race, class, gender, and so on. At the same time, she give the topics and members of these groups the individualized attention they deserve. One of the best parts about this book is that Taylor does not shy away from the difficult conversations such as forced nonhuman animal research for human health issues, abolitionist rhetoric of rewilding animals and the extinction of domestication (and in turn- the maligning of (inter)dependence), some animal rights activists seeing themselves as "voices for the voiceless," the barriers to accessing vegan food for some people with severe health struggles, and so on. She tackles these topics head on, having discussions about issues where nonhuman animal liberation and disabled human liberation seem to collide- and often shows that they are connected rather than at odds with each other. Taylor also does not shy away from directly and honestly addressing the works of people like Peter Singer and Temple Grandin who represent famous and damaging representations of animal liberation in relation to disability and disability in relation to animal liberation. She is able to parse out the things that have merit while effectively calling attention to the things that do not.

I really hope this book becomes one of the staples of animal liberation discourse and disability discourse. Sunaura Taylor argues quite well that the two and intertwined and that ableism is at the center of nonhuman animal oppression and that speciesism is part of the ammo used to demean people with disabilities. It is an invaluable contribution that will hopefully help us create more connections between our movements.

Dearest Leslie Feinberg

Originally posted to facebook on the day of Leslie Feinberg's death.

Dearest Leslie Feinberg,

There a thousand things I want to say to you. Where do you start when someone who has saved your life passes on?

I mean this in multiple ways. Maybe in the way that many people often tell authors that they have saved their lives... Reading Stone Butch Blues saved my life, yes. It validated me, my trauma, my responses to trauma, my gender, my sexuality, and my struggle with those things. It also gave me hope that no matter how bad it was, there can still be good found in this life.

But, it is so much more than that...

When I say you have saved my life, I mean you really have saved my life. Literally. You've made this world safer for me. Your work, your activism, your writing, your existence, your perseverance, and you merely leaving the house each day has made this world safer for me. Because of you, and others like you, trans gender folks and folks of many other oppressed groups from my generation are more likely to get the medical care we need, are more likely to walk the streets safely, are more likely to have our basic needs met, and are more likely to be seen as human. Because of your work and that of those like you, I have doctors who are tender and sweet and care about me as a trans person, a masculine female, a working class person, a disabled person, and an all around weirdo. Because of your work I feel a little safer using public restrooms even with the risk of harassment or violence. Because of you, I can work and go to school and go grocery shopping and go to restaurants. Because of you, I feel like I can risk all of that. Because of you, I know how important it is for me to be visible each day. That that alone is an act of courage.
Because of you, I value what and who I am as something part of a larger struggle. Because of you, I know I am not alone in seeing these intersections. Because of you I feel more confident not being a "single-issue" activist. Because of you, I keep speaking out and continue to avoid hiding.

Because of you, I am not only surviving this world, I am living it in, with faith that it will continue to grow.

I began writing this love letter months ago. I could feel you approaching your time to leave us behind and I was afraid. What would we do without you? I knew that you were struggling with illness every day. While I am devastated by your passing, I am happy to hear that your struggle is over. And I know that even though you are gone, you are always here, in your books, your speeches, and in the changes for the better that you have left behind. We will continue the struggle with you in our minds.

Thank you. Because better words don't exist yet.

Love, always,
Corvus

In loving memory of Leslie Feinberg
September 1, 1949 – November 15, 2014