"Lesbianism"

I met Obi when he was six months old. He was the cutest child I had seen in a long time, full of life and energy. Obi and I bonded over the next few months. His smile could light up a room, and ease the heaviest of burdens. He brought out the mother in me and when I was around, I changed diapers, woke up to make food, fed him in the middle of the night, and loved every second of it.

Six months later, Obi turned one. A few days to his birthday, I flew in to Nigeria to assist with the preparations and make sure everything was going according to plan. I would be damned if I spent his birthday away from him and ended up celebrating vicariously. There was no way I was going to miss this. I was so excited about this birthday and even though first birthdays are basically an excuse for adults to party, I believe first birthdays are significant. 

It was no coincidence that I was not staying at our family house. I was weary of my mothers attitude towards me. She met Obi once when he and his mother visited our family house. She asked me if Obi’s mother was married and I said no. I could see the disgust on her face. What was an unmarried lady with a child doing in her house? The real disgust came from the fact that she suspected that Obi’s mother and I were dating and I had the nerve to bring her home. Although I never admitted nor denied it (she never asked), it still irritated her. I knew from that point they would no longer be welcomed at our family house.

But Obi had already become a favourite at the house. Everyone loved him, they loved his energy and his positive aura. My younger siblings took a special liking to him and were expressively excited to see him. They always asked after him and looked forward to the next time they would see him. It did not bother them that Obi’s mother and I were in a relationship. I am not sure if they ever considered it but it never affected their affection for Obi.

My sister expressed interest in attending Obi’s birthday party and asked me to pick her up from our family house later that evening. I accepted since she did not have a license to drive. She was excited and looking forward to a delightful evening bonding with Obi. When it was almost time came to pick her up, she called to inform me that she was no longer coming at the instruction of my mother. She mumbled as she struggled to repeat my mothers words, so I knew she was trying to avoid saying anything that would hurt me. 

Almost immediately she hung up, my mother called. She asked what I planned with my sister and I told her. She inquired about where this party would take place and I told her it was holding in Obi’s house.  She asked if it was the same Obi whose mother is not married and I said yes. Then she said she did not want my sister to attend the party. She (my mother) did not want my sister to be “infected with lesbianism”. There was a period of silence that only lasted about 20 seconds but felt like 2 minutes. As my eyes welled up with tears and my mouth couldn't produce any words, I heard a click. She cut the line.

I felt rejected. Condemned. For once in my life, I understood exactly how people with Leprosy feel being removed from society - treated as though they are not worthy of being part of anything good for the fear that people could get contaminated with their disease. Isolated. My own mother truly felt I could “infect” my sister with the “disease” of lesbianism. Lesbianism. What does that even mean? 

Obi’s mum came into the room and found me sitting on the bed in silence, looking dejected, contemplating what my mother had just said to me. I cried as I spoke. The words could barely come out. We held each other as she comforted me, almost crying with me. She reminded me that we had guests outside - people who came to celebrate with us; those who, unlike my mother, accepted us as we were and were waiting for us to welcome them with smiles. My poor sister, she really did not have a choice. When she called me again to apologise, I knew she felt bad but she could not defy our mother.

I know my mum acted out of pure ignorance, evidenced by the vocabulary used to reference homosexuality. The nonsensical notion that homosexuality is contagious is a result of decades of moral panic, an intense feeling expressed in a population about an issue that appears to threaten the social order, perpetuated by public and private media and supported by a system of moral crusaders, who never pause to question how sexuality can be contagious yet homosexuals exist in a world where heterosexuality is mainstream.

I’m sure my mother believed she was protecting my sister, but she was also passing a message - “don't be like her; don't be like them”, essentially teaching my sister how to discriminate and who to discriminate against. The girl just wanted to play with the little boy, she wasn't even interested in the party. She would have probably stayed in the room and played with Obi until it was time for her to leave. But our mother let fear and ignorance becloud her judgement and she failed to see that it was just a birthday party for a one year old.