Homosexuality is illegal in more than 30 African countries and punishable by death in four. There is also the widespread belief that homosexuality is ‘un-African’. In his new book Limitless Africans, Nigerian photographer Mikael Owunna documents stories of LGBTQ immigrants, refugees and asylum-seekers.

The photos above depict (from the top):

Brian, Montreal, Canada I am Rwandan by my parents, but I grew up in Tanzania, Niger, Kenya, Benin and the Central African Republic. I answer to him and her and I identify as queer. When I decided to embrace my LGBTQ identity, I pushed away my African identity. But I had already tried to push away my LGBTQ identity. It was complete denial. And then one day I thought to myself why not try embracing both identities, just for the sake of trying. I never felt so complete and comfortable in my skin.

Wiilo, Arlington, VA, US Wiilo in Somali means ‘girl who dresses like boy’ … It’s something that comforted me when I was discovering my queerness and helped me to overcome the shame and the feeling of being pushed away from my Somali culture. Growing up, any deviation from the norm was stamped down. This has to do with living in a refugee community surrounded by whiteness, when holding on to your culture means defining it in very limiting ways.

Aru, Brussels, Belgium My name is Aurélie. I am Congolese, Bandundu. I prefer to go by the pronouns of they and them. I am comfortable with identifying as queer or lesbian. People fear what they do not understand. And when someone doesn’t understand what it is to truly be themselves and love who they are, then I’m really not surprised that there is such resistance to having an open mind and understanding their history. To put Africans in a box of heteronormative western structures is to really deny their true history.

Yahya, Philadelphia, PA, US I am half-Moroccan and half-American, born in Casablanca. I identify as a second generation radical queer, pansexual, and the gender identity that feels comfortable is ‘boi’. I aspire towards a queered masculinity, with tenderness and self-awareness. I like they and them pronouns. Race and ethnicity are complicated in Morocco. Many Moroccans feel both Arab and African, but Arab comes first, Moroccan comes before both of those, and Muslim comes before everything else. There is a rich and diverse history of non-binary gender expression in African cultures.

Lahya, Berlin, Germany I’m originally from Namibia and now located in Berlin. My pronoun is she and I’m a queer, cis-femme person with polyamorous relationships and I’m pan. For me, as a disabled black and body non-conforming person, style is empowerment. I’m very influenced by my African heritage: I like big earrings, but also colours and I like to show my body as it is and to bring it out in the best way I can show it. As a black intersectional person, I always have to give myself a bit more love than other people in the world give me.

Jihan, Brussels, Belgium I was born in France to Algerian parents. I’m a trans dude. My societal gender is masculine, but my psychic reality is two-spirit. I feel very strongly both female and male energies. I had a period of attraction to and aversion from the African community I’m originally from; all the way to a complete rejection. It’s a huge internal struggle, as we are educated in contradictions, tradition and modernity. In North African cultures there is honour and loyalty or guilt and shame. It’s a conditioning that is very difficult to escape.

Our Word of the Year for 2019 is they. It reflects a surprising fact: even a basic term—a personal pronoun—can rise to the top of our data. [...] English famously lacks a gender-neutral singular pronoun to correspond neatly with singular pronouns like everyone or someone, and as a consequence they has been used for this purpose for over 600 years.

More recently, though, they has also been used to refer to one person whose gender identity is nonbinary, a sense that is increasingly common in published, edited text, as well as social media and in daily personal interactions between English speakers. There's no doubt that its use is established in the English language, which is why it was added to the Merriam-Webster.com dictionary this past September. 

These are my scars on full display in #2019. I'm proud of my scars and love my body just the way it is. I call them my battle wounds because they signify the strength and perseverance it took to finally complete my transition <3

1. Remember to bring all your documents. If possible, try to travel with documents that reflect who you currently are. (Or as close as you can be given the laws where you live) Photo, name, gender marker, etc. AT MINIMUM, make sure your photo reflects how you currently look.

2. Research your destination thoroughly. Read up on local laws regarding LGBTQ+ people. Some places are much more restrictive than others and it is better to know your rights and not need them than to be stuck in a jail cell somewhere.

3. Knowing your next bathroom stop is must. Always know where your next bathroom stop will be or have a backup bathroom plan in case you are not comfortable with the situation.

4. Some destinations are best to avoid. Do your research and know which locations are best to avoid.

5. Have a letter from your doctor handy at the airport. If you are on HRT (hormone replacement therapy), always try to bring a doctor’s note to keep with your medication in your bag in case you have issues with airport security.

6. You will probably be questioned. Brace yourself to be questioned. A lot of cultures are known for their bluntness. Even people who pass extremely well can get stopped and asked questions based on documents, appearance, etc.

7. If possible, travel with a friend or a group. When in doubt, be with people. There is safety in numbers, especially if they are your friends and people who will stand up for you if it is needed.

8. Network via LGBTQ+ Facebook groups. Join transgender or LGBTQ+ related Facebook groups. It is an easy way to find other trans people who LIVE where you are traveling. They can give you their personal experiences, ideas of places to go, or even offer to hang out with you and give you a local tour.

1. Try Misterbnb for LGBTQ+ friendly accommodations. The service is similar to Airbnb, but it caters to the LGBTQ+ community. 

2. Respect local customs. Be aware of local gender expectations. Are women supposed to be covered, wear headscarves or avoid certain activities? Try to respect local customs and blend in as much as possible.

3. Consider LGBTQ+ tours. We all find safety in numbers, so consider LGBTQ+ tours that will specialize in gay travel. Similarly, consider booking a traditional tour company where you will have a local guide who is familiar with customs, speaks the language and can advise you on how to stay safe while exploring the world. Many tour companies display their credentials in serving the LGBTQ+ community on their websites.

4. Find LGBTQ+ friendly businesses before you leave. Consider using the International Gay and Lesbian Travel Association as a resource for finding LGBTQ+ owned and affirming businesses in countries where you may have more concerns.

5. Be sure that sex toys are legal. In some countries, traveling with sexually explicit material can be used as evidence of sex work which may result in you being detained while traveling.

6. Take precautions with dating apps. Be wary of who you trust on dating apps in countries like Egypt, where police have been known to create fake accounts to “catch” LGBTQ+ travelers looking to engage in “illegal activity.”

7. Bring copies of your important documents. All travelers should carry backup copies of their passport and other personal information, but there are some extra considerations that LGBTQ+ travelers should consider. It isn’t fun to think about, but Healthcare Power of Attorney and Hospital Visitation Authorization documents are essential. This is because domestic partnership and same-sex marriage laws differ widely around the world.

The Road Back

There is one essential truth about human beings: we all come from somewhere. Me? I’m a black trans woman who left the deep south at 18.

It’s September 2018, two decades later, and I’m in a car headed back to Georgia for the first time as my whole self – with a new body, and a whole new way of being – to meet my 95-year-old great aunt Mama Rose and the rest of my family. [...]

[My mother] died in 2011 before I transitioned. [...] I was wondering whether she would have ultimately accepted me as her daughter.

That’s why meeting with Mama Rose is so important to me. I had to get clues from my mother’s aunt to find out whether she would have accepted me. She is the only person still alive who knew my mom before my mom knew herself. [...]

The Gift of Aunt Rose

As my conversation with Mama Rose unfolded, so did my joy. I was blown away by her as she talked about my mother’s sweetness, intelligence, thoughtfulness and sensitivity as a child. We rarely can imagine our parents as children; I was suddenly able to do so and it rounded out her humanity and vulnerability in my mind. Mama Rose is giving me the gift of memories of my mom which only she possessed.

But Mama Rose does even more. As she talks, she embodies the example of love she sets for our entire family. When I ask her why she doesn’t judge people, she says simply because “it is what it is”.

It is this example which has led me to be embraced by four generations of my family, including some of its youngest members.