Like many sport and development (S&D) organisations throughout Africa, the organisation I have been working with since 2011 in Burkina Faso uses sport to bring youth together and to communicate lessons about HIV and sexual health practice. Using sport as a means of communicating information has shown to be an engaging alternative to talking at young people in a classroom. As an athlete myself, and one who squirmed through lessons about sexual health in a small room when I was a teenager, I can see the benefit of teaching in a setting where young people are comfortable and attending out of interest, rather than obligation.
Since its inception
in 2005, the S&D organisation I work with in Burkina Faso has grown and now
works in partnership with the National Ministry of Health, UNHCR, local health
organizations and local schools. Through
these partnerships, the organisation has been part of a movement to push
policies in Burkina Faso (and West Africa) to extend access to sexual health resources
and to fund education about HIV and sexual health in youth centres.[1] Despite
the successes of this movement, the drive and focus to educate youth about sexual
health has a dangerous blindspot: homophobia and transphobia.
The limits of inclusion
I can remember only
one occasion during a session about HIV infection out on a football pitch when
homosexuality was mentioned. In this
moment, the coach brushed quickly through the mandatory statement that condom
use is necessary for protection not only for sex between a man and a women, but
also between men. This was followed by giggles.
The coach did not address the reaction of the youth, nor did anyone ask
about women who have sex with women, or people who have sex with both men and
women. They quickly moved on to the next exercise in the session. This moment made me pause, and I reflected on
how I might feel as a young LGBT person who was part of that group. I would have felt invisible.
S&D programmes
that address issues of sexual health should address them for everyone. These same programmes proclaim inclusion in
their mission statements and programme goals; they work with girls, boys,
different ethnicities, classes and nationalities, and with youth with
disabilities. But how many of them are working with youth who identify as lesbian,
gay, bisexual or transgender? I would venture
that the unfortunate answer is that they do not know. And yet, in a climate where laws in countries
like Uganda and Nigeria make it dangerous to even broach the topic of gender
identity and sexual orientation, it is understandable that these development programmes
may not even know how to begin. But this
is also an opportunity, and an example of a strategic avenue for productive
policy engagement that the Sexuality, Poverty and Law
Programme
at IDS is exploring.
The value of ‘gentle’ action
Some of the young
women I met through my involvement with sports in Burkina Faso earlier this
year introduced me to an organization called the Queer African Youth Networking
Center (QAYN).[2]
QAYN is based in Ouagadougou and works throughout West Africa. They are an example of a small group of
dedicated young people whose mission it is to support and foster youth activism
about LGBT issues and to promote the safety and well being of gays, lesbians,
bisexual, transgender and questioning youth in West Africa. They may not be a very big or visible
organization, but they are providing a vital resource to youth who need support. Just like S&D programmes, they are
helping these youth to build confidence and leadership skills.
When I sat with some
of the youth who are part of QAYN, and asked them what the biggest problem they
face in their community is, the answer they gave me was visibility. The youth in QAYN work to make LGBT people,
and rights, visible; but this
visibility also comes at a cost. They told me that they are often shunned by
their families, and have to hide from their friends and in public because
people just do not have any awareness about diversity of sexual orientation and
gender identity. They said that the more
people who know someone who is LGBT and who accepts them, the more their
families will begin to understand and accept them.
Some of the youth
who have found QAYN take part in the sport activities and sessions on HIV and
sexual health that are facilitated by the S&D programme I work with. In fact, this is how I met them. And yet
their identities have been all but invisible in the S&D context. Is this not an ideal opportunity for a
partnership between the S&D sector and an organization that works with LGBT
youth to give these young people a voice and critical support?
In a conversation
with one of the young members of QAYN, he explained that laws – like societal
norms – cannot change overnight. QAYN’s strategy,
therefore, uses ‘gentle’[3]
actions for building toward change. These ‘gentle actions’ include supporting LGBT
youth, creating partnerships with other NGOs in their communities and raising
awareness with local organisations and policy makers to lay the groundwork for
potential policy and law change in the future.
The members of QAYN
are incredibly brave and safety is a perpetual challenge for them, even in a
country like Burkina Faso where homosexuality is not specifically outlawed but is
socially proscribed[4]. QAYN welcomed me and my colleagues from the S&D
organization, offering to help with our sexual health curriculums and
activities, and asking with genuine interest if they could visit a sport
event. This rare meeting of sectors is
an opportunity to contribute to these “gentle” changes in perceptions that QAYN
is working toward, and one that other S&D organisations should actively
seek out. It is part of the necessary
on-the-ground steps toward social change that are the undercurrent to legal and
policy changes on such controversial issues.
[3] translated from
French: doux/douce
