I thought I’d met the perfect man – until I showed up for our first date

Content warning: This article includes descriptions of sexual violence and homophobia

One of my attackers in the room spat bitterly at me in Pidgin – a popular vernacular native to my people in Nigeria. I shuddered before, suddenly, I received three sharp blows to my stomach and a strike to the head.

Moments later, five of them advanced towards me unbuckling their belts. I tried to process what was happening, but before I could even mutter a word they began to strike me with their belts while I screamed and begged them to stop.  

While pinned face down, with a foot on my head, on to a ground full of construction debris and dirt, I was distracted by the loud and frantic thumping in my chest, and hindered by the liquid that began to blur my vision.

It then dawned on me what was happening. 

I was being mercilessly raped by five men. 

I lay there a bleeding, writhing mess. I never thought I’d die like this.

A while later, I regained consciousness, and saw them talking amongst themselves. I realised I could try and escape. I managed to wriggle away from the tight grasp of my captors, only to be recaptured within the next minute. 

They punched me in the face for trying to escape, dragged me to a nearby abandoned building and firmly tied me up so I wouldn’t escape again. 

Stripped of all my belongings, including my clothes, I was at this moment a naked boy praying to be swallowed by the ground and out of sight of the savage men that surrounded me. 

But, we homosexuals never get what we pray for. 

I never thought I’d die like this

All this was happening to me because I am queer – a homosexual in a space that bears no iota of warmth for homosexuality.  

Growing up queer in Nigeria wasn’t easy. Homosexuality has always been heavily frowned upon – so much so that any homosexual is viewed as an atrocity that even God himself couldn’t forgive. 

I was a very soft, emotional kid with slightly effeminate mannerisms. I was also always so exuberant and jovial, and this combo arrested attention from my school mates. 

I endured sneers every now and then, but I wasn’t deeply affected by it. No one seemed to care too much back then.

At home, things were easier. My parents were too busy with work to notice – but I was close with my younger sister, who I played silly games with and enjoyed her bubbly nature.

I realised I was gay back early in my secondary school. It was a fascinating concept to me, but I didn’t act on my feelings. Rather, I was conditioned to conceal them. 

There was no choice – being homosexual in Nigeria is a felony, and there is a maximum 14-year jail time penalty for anyone who is caught acting on their desires. I was scared of what my sexuality meant for my future.

I didn’t have any queer friends, didn’t know any other queer person like me. I bottled up my emotions for fear of being found out and felt alone for a very long time. 

It was horrible. I couldn’t talk to anyone about my sexuality and how it affected me. I couldn’t freely express myself. 

Being in the closet, I was mute and paralysed in social settings. The only times when I felt slightly free was when I was reading queer novels, and relating to the characters.

David told me he was a closeted queer man and a fresh graduate who lived in a neighbouring town. We talked about anything and everything. He was so kind and sweet to me. 

The attention I lacked from my parents, and the generosity I lacked from my peers, he all but possessed. I was drawn to him, and quickly agreed to see him when he finally insisted, a couple months after our first interaction. 

David was a liberal thinker and he was smart; which were traits that moved me. We had been talking for quite a while, and there wasn’t a second that passed that I didn’t think about him. I always eagerly anticipated his messages, which would make my day. 

I wouldn’t quite say I loved him, but I was very fond of him.

That fateful day, I woke up super early and super excited to prepare for our meeting. I brushed my teeth twice and spent about an hour in the bathroom. I wore my finest clothes, and even used some of my parents’ perfumes. 

I wanted to be beautiful for him. After I was done, I ran through conversations of what I’d say in my head. I was all giddy like a love-struck high school girl. 

He sent me the location where we’d rendezvous, and a text that read: ‘I can’t wait to see you, Love.‘

It was a bit difficult getting there because it was far from me, and I had to spend about 5,000 Naira to get there (£2.30). My heart beat in trepidation and excitement throughout the journey.

Once I got to the location, I dialled his number and pondered the fun things we’d do as I idly listened to the line ring. 

Being homosexual in Nigeria is a felony, and there is a maximum 14-year jail time penalty for anyone who is caught acting on their desires

Suddenly, my phone was yanked away from my hand, and that was when I saw five guys, out of nowhere, come towards me. One of them pulled out a knife and told me to be quiet. I panicked and tried to scream – that’s when I felt an object collide with my head and was thrown to the ground.

After my attack, when I came back into consciousness, I was given a rag to clean up the blood that oozed out of my body. In the corner of my blurry vision, I saw David walk up to me.

‘If you ever try to continue with this dirty act, I promise you won’t be shown this much mercy’ he said with so much spite in his voice that I was in shock. Was this really the same guy I was speaking with, who was so kind to me?

Moments later, one of them flung some tattered clothes I didn’t recognise, and a 500 Naira note (26 pennies) at me, asking me to leave at once, before he would change his mind.

I picked up the clothes, the note, and left. I was battered and bruised, broken and abused. I had no idea where I was or how I would make it back home. It was all a daze.

Luckily, I had some help from strangers along the way, and miraculously, I eventually found my way home.

It’s been three months since this event. I managed to talk to the police about it – I described the situation (although I didn’t disclose I’d met David from Grindr) and the perpetrators as best as I could. But it’s no news that the police here and the justice system are unreliable.

Besides the police, I haven’t opened up to anyone about my attack. I’m still scared and in shock. I’ve become a shell of myself. I live as a recluse; I can barely connect with people as easily as before.  

But I have a plan to leave this country after graduation.

I discovered there have been others who experienced similar fates by reading online articles relating to homosexual harassment or ‘kito’ as it is called here. Some who didn’t survive. 

This is what we queer people face here in Nigeria. 

We are treated worse than garbage just because we don’t follow heteronormative lifestyles.  

And I want everyone to know that. 

*Name has been changed 

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