Same Difference [A Queer Nigerian Experience]

ARC FOUR: 18 | HATE THE SINNER

My body failed me, causing the tears to come flooding in and I voluntarily gave in to them. I slowly retreated back to the floor in silence. The tears kept coming quietly—I wasn't sobbing loudly or gasping for air. I just stayed there, unmoving. Maxwell, scared and confused, sat down beside me, trying to figure out what was going on. I didn’t say a word, just passed him my phone so he could see for himself.

Our worst nightmare had come true, Maxwell returned my phone, then covered his face with his hands, his heavy breathing the only sound. He looked up, his expression devastated, yet tearless. I had never seen him so low. I knew he felt responsible, just as I did, and his guilt prevented him from offering me comfort. Both of us remained on the floor, feets apart, lost in our own thoughts.

I had lost the chance to save Wilfred, but I could still prevent my account from being used to catfish others. On impulse, I permanently deleted my Grindr profile. It didn’t matter anymore if they realized I knew my account had been compromised. They had already succeeded in their plan. I could have stopped them, I should have stopped them, and I would have, but I didn’t, and they got away with it too. 

The thought of the video haunted me - Wilfred's limp body in the spotlight, the assailants' faces obscured from backing the camera, but anyone familiar with Madrid would know he was one of them in the video. No matter how much it hurt, I needed to see what others thought about the video. I steeled myself and read every comment in my department's group chat, my hands trembling as I held my phone, careful not to let tears fall on the screen. Each homophobic comment felt like a knife to my heart—words I had heard countless times before, but they still hurt every single time. I scrolled relentlessly, searching for just one voice of dissent, one person who didn’t think taking another life was justified. But I never found it.

Instead, the graphic and violent video was reposted on the group so more people could see it and share their made-up, homophobic reasons for why Wilfred was killed. But the video was taken down, and every attempt to reshare it was removed by the group admin again. The members weren’t pleased about it and called out Prudence, who was responsible for taking it down.

It would have been better if Prudence had just stayed quiet and continued taking the video down, but she ended up making things worse by responding. She tried to appeal to their humanity, arguing that regardless of their feelings towards gay people, they deserved dignity, even in death. But her efforts were in vain; they turned on her, with some citing it was a crime, others calling it a sin, and most doing both. In a misguided attempt to appease them, Prudence conceded that gay people should be incarcerated, rather than killed, but this only led to further condemnation, with one member insisting on "Leviticus 20:13," calling for the death of gay people.

The mention of Leviticus 20:13 brought Sewa to mind, and shortly after, a lengthy private message from her appeared in my notifications. I partially read the start of her message, which began with an apology, but when I saw she was referencing Wilfred's tragic incident, I stopped reading. It was too late for apologies, and I wasn't in the emotional space to engage. I dismissed the message and closed the app, having had enough homophobia for the day.

Maxwell still hadn’t said a word or even touched his phone; his inertia unnerving me. When I finally turned off my phone since I wasn’t using it anymore, I noticed the flashlight on my table behind, was beginning to dim. I summoned the strength to stand, my legs wobbly from prolonged sitting and emotional exhaustion. I managed to walk over, switch off the light, and orient it downwards. Returning to my spot, I collapsed back into silence alongside Maxwell.

...

Early the next morning, I heard my door open and close. I kept my eyes shut, knowing it was Maxwell leaving. I knew when he woke up, rolled out of bed, and put on his slides, and I pretended to be asleep through it all, even skipping the chance to lock the door. The next time my eyes opened, was when the door opened again, but this time it wasn’t Maxwell. It was Ossai, who entered and sat in the chair beside my bed, asking "Are you awake?" as if I wasn't staring at him.