Sexuality and Sport in Burkina Faso: “Gentle” actions and partnerships that stand up to homophobia

 
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.

 

By Alison Carney, Consultant and Researcher on Sport, Development and Gender.

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[1] http://www.who.int/reproductivehealth/topics/linkages/RASburkinafaso.pdf

[2] http://www.qayn-center.org/

[3] translated from French: doux/douce

[4] http://www.lgbtnet.dk/countries/africa/burkina-faso

Ending sexual violence in conflict means looking beyond the ‘warzone’

Effective action will mean challenging assumptions about the location of conflict, and paying closer attention to the socio-economic and legal contexts in which survivors and perpetrators of sexual violence navigate their lives.

With the Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict taking place this week, much needed attention will be firmly focused on how to put an end to this pervasive problem.  The widespread use of sexual violence has been reported in Liberia, Northern Uganda, Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Sudan, Iraq, Libya and Syria and Rwanda - where in the 100 days of the Rwandan genocide, an estimated 500,000 women were raped.

Effective global action on sexual violence will need politicians, civil society and local communities to be prepared to challenge a number of commonly-held assumptions about where and why sexual violence takes place beyond the misleading focus on the false binary of the ‘victim’ and the ‘perpetrator’.

The majority of victims of sexual violence are women and the perpetrators mostly men.  Yet a newly published IDS Rapid Response Briefing, Addressing sexual violence in and beyond the ‘warzone’, highlights a growing body of research that shows that sexual violence is experienced by both men and women.  Almost 24 per cent of men in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo reported sexual violence at least once in their lifetime, including being forced to watch their female family relatives being raped, or being raped themselves. 

As we have also seen recently, with the abduction of the group of school-girls by the militant Islamic group Boko Haram in Nigeria, sexual violence is not only perpetrated by states and militias but also occurs at the hands of militant factions. 

In the build-up to the summit there has been a significant focus on the use of sexual violence as a ‘weapon of war’ within conflicts.  Yet, high levels of conflict-related sexual violence take place outside of internationally recognised conflict zones, particularly within Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps or in urban areas where the majority of civilians seeking refuge from conflict flee.  One in five female refugees or IDPs living in camps or urban areas worldwide has experienced sexual violence while displaced.  High poverty levels, an absence of security and pernicious, frequently gendered, power dynamics mean that migrants and refugees in these settings are particularly vulnerable to sexual violence.  These intersecting problems are further exacerbated by the fact that while international humanitarian law applies to areas of conflict (like refugee camps), it does not apply outside of armed conflict-zones (like IDP camps and urban areas to which conflict-migrants have fled).   

It is often the socio-cultural norms underpinning entrenched gender inequalities that are the hardest to shift and that pose the greatest obstacle to tackling sexual violence.  But they must shift if any real traction in is to be achieved, and as our research into collective action to tackle sexual and gender based violence in Kenya has shown any initiatives must involve men.  It is frequently the case that the very areas that civilians seek refuge from conflict are those same areas where gender inequalities continue to be reinforced through practices such as forced marriage and female genital mutilation, and where levels of domestic violence are extremely high. 

Recent IDS research in South Sudan shows how men, seeking to reassert their authority after the civil war, have imposed rules that have reduced women’s mobility and prevented them for carrying out their usual responsibilities such as collecting wood and water. As a result women have faced the dual risks of being punished by men in the community for not completing their duties, and of being beaten by their spouses for breaking these rules. 

The participants at the forthcoming summit have an essential role to play in tackling these challenges. The first step is in helping the international community to develop a more nuanced approach that looks beyond the ‘warzone’ to achieve real and urgently-needed action on sexual violence irrespective of how, where and by whom it is perpetrated.

By: Hannah Corbett, Public Affairs and Policy Officer, IDS

Strategic Silence. Why no news can be good news.

A subtle approach to making a difference – The case of Rwandan Civil Society

As the situation in relation to gay rights in Uganda and Nigeria became more inflamed and countries such as Kenya, DRC and Ethiopia were tipped to follow suit, Rwanda has remained noticeably silent on the issue. With a reputation for weak civil society this could be taken as a bad sign. But unlike its neighbours, homosexuality is not illegal in Rwanda and there has been no discussion of making it so. So what does this mean for sexual rights activism in Rwanda?

Over the past few weeks and months, there has been mounting anxiety in Rwanda on the potential ripple effect, coming from the degrading status of LGBT rights in Uganda and in the region. The decision by Kenyan Lawmakers to give up their plans to emulate their Ugandan counterparts and enact tougher laws against LGBT people, came as a relief.

The anxiety was based on two things: First, there is still no unanimity on the issue within Rwandan civil society. Although the legal ship has sailed, many are those who have criticised gay activists and would like the debate to be reinitiated. Second, there is persistent stigma against LGBT groups within the Rwandan public, especially fuelled by religious movements.

Despite this, the Rwandan pro-LGBT activists have not been idle; far from it. They have managed to secure ground-breaking policy milestones; for example, the National HIV strategy  has included costing for the import of lubricants, and earmarked ‘treatment as prevention’ for key populations. What this means is that HIV positive ‘Key populations’ (Men having Sex with Men and Sex Workers) will receive Anti-retroviral treatment regardless of their CD4 count; a service normally reserved for pregnant women; others being put on treatment only after their CD4 count drops below 200.

The Strategy further pledges:

• Support in the form of peer education for Female Sex Workers (FSW) and Men having Sex with Men (MSM)which also addresses the problem of gender-based violence to which they are particularly vulnerable;
• Advocacy with law enforcement and local authorities to improve protection of FSW and MSM;
• Strengthen FSW and MSM participation in policy development and program implementation;
• Reduction of socio-economic vulnerability of sex workers by encouraging FSW to create associations and cooperatives.

Another interesting development is that while civil society advocacy did not result in the complete decriminalisation of sex work, it led the government to remove jail terms for sex workers from the penal code. Today Article 204 of the penal code  dealing with sex workers only provides, as punishment:

Any person who engages in prostitution shall fulfil, for a period not exceeding one year, one or more of the following obligations:

1. not to leave territorial limits determined by the Court;
2. not to go to certain places determined by the court;
3. to be subjected to surveillance measures;
4. to seek medical treatment;
5. to periodically report to administrative services or authorities determined by the court.

While the campaign to have condoms placed in secondary schools was not successful, it led to the enactment of a policy to teach comprehensive sexuality education in secondary schools; a practice that was not only taboo before, but which was seen by the Rwandan society as profoundly immoral.
So how have such developments been achieved given Rwanda’s reputation for weak civil society? And why has the Rwandan government not been more vocal about them?

There is no doubt, even within Rwanda, that civil society is weak. At the launch of a UNDP’s Civil Society Support Fund, the Rwandan Minister for Local Government, while acknowledging civil society’s contribution as critical to the development agenda, regretted that it was too weak to optimally contribute. A recent EU civil society mapping report  elaborates on Rwandan civil society’s weakness, describing it as too focussed on service delivery and less on policy advocacy. The international media, the regional civil society, even the chairperson of the Rwandan Civil Society Platform, all speak lowly of Rwandan civil society.

To understand the role played by Rwandan civil society, one needs to look first at the Rwandan cultural, legal and political frameworks. All of which are underpinned by quiet engagement and non-confrontational lobbying. From that standpoint, one sees that Rwandan civil society has deliberately foregone its visibility and, to some extent, its legitimacy, in the interest of silently advancing its agendas. It engages policy makers through ‘protected spaces’ created for that purpose by the polity. These spaces offer incidences for serene talks and behind the scene influence wavering. In this manner, civil society requests are adopted or at least noted. Once a deal is quietly hammered down, the government goes ahead and publicly takes credit for it. This is how the world finds out about progressive policies in Rwanda.

For example, in 2009, the Rwandan government transcended regional prejudice and conservatism to repeal article 217 of the draft penal code criminalising homosexuality, following a marathon advocacy campaign by local civil society groups. But in a radio interview on the issue, the minister of justice was candid: ‘these NGOs do not know what they are talking about; the thought to criminalise homosexuality never crossed our mind!’. In all these happenings, Rwandan NGOs resisted calls from their international counterparts, to take full credit for their efforts. They did not see the need to claim a spot at the podium; we got what we wanted, they said, let them enjoy their moment.

The comments of the President on the Private Equity in Africa Summit, held in London in November 2009, succinctly captures the dynamics at play in Rwanda: ‘On the issue of homosexuals […] We have laws already in place that cater for existence and co-existence of different categories and create harmony in society and, I think it looks like we are headed to leaving it like that rather than heightening tensions and bringing out unnecessary conflicts and debates that will not help the rebuilding of our country’ .

It is true that the established partnership between government and NGOs strengthens government’s image and erodes NGO’s relevance. But that is not the same as saying that it has no function at all. To get results, you have to work within the system; you have to learn to play the game. Granted, a more vibrant civil society would open up the wider society over time. One of the problems is that within a self-censured citizenry such as ours, there are many who are simply not aware of the existing spaces and opportunities to engage. 

Another problem is that the term 'Rwandan civil society' itself often feels like an oxymoron. Zealous sycophants, keen to recycle government messages for political purposes or with the hope to be considered for the next reshuffle. These individuals pay lip service to a human rights-based approach and do, at times, undermine advocacy campaigns. Any civil society advocacy that needs to be done, ought to start there; within the civil society itself.

Investing in in-country legitimacy admittedly takes time and may be frustrating. However, it ultimately holds the key to advancing human rights and is perhaps more efficient than riding on international endorsements and track record that may not necessarily have in-country recognition. Regular appearances and active participation in technical fora, can be crucial to building interpersonal relations, and thereby have the ability to influence. NGOs should increase their presence and ability to communicate their actions and network. Especially using existing platforms such as the sector working groups of the Economic Development and Poverty Reduction Strategy (EDPRS-II).

As a parting shot, I would say that the Rwandan civil society is weak, but not as weak as people might think. To survive, it must operate within an environment where quiet dialogue and consensus underpin the advocacy dispensation. We have achieved a legal and policy framework that is conducive to the advancement of LGBT rights in Rwanda. But there is still a lot that needs to be done to shape a Rwanda fit for all sexual orientations and gender identities.  From my work as a human rights activist in Rwanda in the last twelve years, I know that these actions must include raising awareness among decision makers and law enforcers (lawmakers, government, police, media, NGOs, churches, etc.). This does not necessarily require branding and big publicity campaigns, but something more subtle; an approach that is positive, that not only criticises, but also offers solutions.

This is something I will be working on over the next few months with Polly Haste as part of the Sexuality, Poverty and Law Programme at IDS.

Today, Rwanda is often lauded for its work on gender equality, for abolishing the death penalty, extending healthcare and free education to all. Rwanda became the sixth and latest African country to empower the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights to receive individual cases against it, and the only one to extend a standing invitation to all UN/AU special mechanisms. Less known, is the background advocacy work carried-out by Rwandan civil society groups, which have assisted the government to achieve these developments. Sometimes silence can be just as effective.
By Thierry Kevin Gatete

This blog is derived from an article in the forthcoming book: ‘Advocacy in Sub-Saharan Africa’ .

Thierry Kevin Gatete is a Rwandan Human Rights lawyer and founder of the Centre for Human Rights in Rwanda. He is working with the IDS Sexuality, Poverty and Law programme on an Evidence report, exploring policy options for LGBT activism in Rwanda.

When Love Is Not Love: The Politics of Sexuality and Digital Activism in Azerbaijan

by Jake Winn

Valentine’s Day is traditionally an occasion to celebrate love, but for far too many worldwide, this is just another reminder of the daily repression they face, the secrets they hold and the love they cannot express.

The LGBTQ community in the former Soviet republic of Azerbaijan is currently mourning the loss of one of its bright, young leaders, Isa Sahmarli. Sahmarli, the co-founder of Azad LGBT took his own life on 22 January 2014. Although only 20 years of age, Sahmarli was one of the country’s most prominent and openly gay activists, and as such, his death sparked debate about LGBTQ rights in Azerbaijan. These debates run alongside a deeper critique among those affected by Shamarli’s death, both within and beyond Azerbaijan’s borders.

This critique, as explored through the Sexuality, Poverty and Law (SPL) Programme at IDS, centres on the powerful ways that policies reach into the most intimate and everyday spaces of people’s lives and their relationships – through laws and policies, for example, that regulate people’s bodies along sex binaries, that limit people’s capacity to exert autonomy in their sexual relationships, that criminalise certain expressions of sexuality and restrict the kind of education or employment opportunities available. These issues are brought together in the most recent publication from the SPL Programme, which offers a synthesis of five legal case studies.

In addition to looking at how policies and the law regulate people’s bodies and sexualities and the material implications for their livelihoods, it is important to consider the strategies that people draw on to raise awareness and challenge the spaces in which they experience social, economic and political marginalisation.

In Azerbaijan it is primarily through online digital spaces that people and organisations are safely able to offer support and resources to those who experience these multiple and intersecting forms of marginalisation in their home, workplace, or school, for example.

It is Sahmarli’s death, in particular, that has prompted those closest to him to turn to online digital spaces in order to seek support and begin a dialogue about the repression faced by LGBTQ people and allies in Azerbaijan. As part of this process, they have launched an online photo campaign entitled ‘SevgiElə Sevgidir’, translated into English as ‘Love Is Love’, to pay tribute to their friend and leader and send a message to other LGBTQ individuals in the country and abroad to say, ‘You are not alone’. On Valentines Day, this online photo campaign will release hundreds of photographs of people from all over the world, all saying ‘Love is Love’, through online activist sites in solidarity with LGBTQ people in Azerbaijan.

When considering sexuality through the lens of the law, historic and contemporary geopolitics become salient: in order to join the Soviet Union, in 1920, Azerbaijan was required to introduce Soviet laws criminalizing homosexuality.  It was only when seeking to join the Council of the European Union in 2000, that Azerbaijan finally repealed this law (Article 121). In practice, however, the historic policy infrastructure that flowed from Article 121 remains firmly in place. Although same-sex relationships are not legally punishable, social stigma persists and economic discrimination is entrenched in policies that do not offer the same legal protections to same-sex partners - or their families, as heterosexual partners.

Looking out from Azerbaijan to its neighbouring countries, homosexuality is illegal in adjacent Iran, is likely to become illegal in fellow ex-Soviet state Kazakhstan, and as noted previously in the KNOTS blog on the opening of the Winter Olympics in Sochi, queer rights in neighboring Russia have been undermined by the anti-propaganda law.

Despite the absence of these official, draconian laws in Azerbaijan, LGBTQ people lack political recognition and legal protection against abuses such as public harassment and workplace discrimination (for example, see this local study done by Nefes, an LGBT group in Azerbaijan). Social stigma is deeply entrenched and treatment of LGBTQ people remains severely oppressive, especially outside of the capital city of Baku where confidential spaces for support are almost nonexistent. Many in the country still believe that homosexuality is a disease that can be cured. Sahmarli himself revealed last year that,“though psychologists explained it to my family, they still call it an illness.” His family disowned him after coming out. He had to move out and his mother and sister only ever talked to him in attempts to “cure” him.

The dangers of being open given these high levels of stigmatization are not the only reason that Azerbaijan’s LGBTQ community has turned towards the web for support and mobilization. Eerily reminiscent of the recent restrictions Russia imposed on NGOs, the electoral authoritarian state of Azerbaijan recently signed into law an amendment that provides the authorities with various triggers for temporarily suspending and permanently banning national and foreign NGOs working in the country. Already one of the most corrupt and politically repressive regimes in the world according to Freedom House, such legislation serves as further motivation for rights groups to get off the streets and turn to the web.

In a recent publication, Katy Pearce explored the opportunities in Azerbaijan for digital political activism, claiming that such groups are ‘leveraging social media to build audiences and engage in [connective] action’. These become virtual spaces to build support and share information. Despite still being in the public domain and thus vulnerable to resistance, she asserts that these ‘networks are light on their feet’ and ‘create a web that is more difficult to destroy’. Such networking is not limited to the LGBTQ community. Youth activist groups like NIDA, themselves the victims of harsh political censuring, have been using social media for some time to voice dissatisfaction with the ruling government. So, when it comes to future implications for this burgeoning medium of activism, Sebastián Valenzuela‘ found that social media use for political opinion expression and activism were significant predictors of protest behavior’.

Virtual campaigns like ‘Love is Love’ may be a sign of things to come.

Hidden and invisible powers, fueled by government heavy-handedness and social mistrust stemming back to the Soviet era, are currently dictating popular opinion regarding LGBTQ rights. But Azerbaijan’s LGBTQ community and its supporters are fighting back, claiming the digital world as its space to provide support and campaign for equality.

It is through these social media outlets that the true difference between law and policy in Azerbaijan is being revealed. Global pressure and a national desire for inclusion into the Council of Europe led to a change in Azerbaijan’s law in 2000, decriminalizing homosexuality. To an outsider, this was progress. In reality, more inclusive policies never followed; it was all smoke and mirrors. Now, the potential success of international campaigns like ‘Love Is Love’ bring hope and makes us ask: How much longer will the LGBTQ community of Azerbaijan, and countries like it, have to live in the shadows? When will we all be able to celebrate Valentine’s Day, together?

In memory of Isa Sahmarli (30/4/1993-22/1/14)

The author, Jacob Winn, is currently studying for a Masters in Gender and Development at IDS. Prior to joining IDS, he served in the United States Peace Corps in Azerbaijan.

Mike Raybourne also contributed to this article.

What’s sex got to do with it? A Synthesis of Sexuality and the Law

by Linda Waldman

For many people, sexuality is something private and personal, and something that should have nothing to do with the state.  Yet sexuality is intimately woven into questions of law, legitimacy and regulation.  Various dimensions of our sexuality are moulded by the law through the ways in which media is controlled, schools are regulated and through considerations by social services for instance.  Law also regulates our own sexuality and relationships, by defining in criminal and civil law what a family is and how it should behave, through defining childhood and adulthood, by granting – or denying – access to condoms, abortions or legalising and by criminalising particular sexual practices including sex work.

The Sexuality, Poverty and Law  Programme at IDS started in 2012 and together with our partners around the world we have witnessed significant changes to the law and its intimate relationship with sexuality in the last two years. For example, just two months time, same-sex marriage will be legal in the UK; earlier this year, in January 2014, Morocco amended its Penal Code to criminalise marital rape; last year, in November 2013, Germany became the first country in Europe to legally recognise a third sex outside of the male/female binary; and in August, 2013, New Zealand legalised same sex marriage.

But it has not all been good news.  The high profile cases of Nigeria, Jamaica, Uganda, India, and Ghana – to name a few  – demonstrate the ongoing challenges for those who risk persecution and criminalisation on the basis of their sexuality. These examples are vivid reminders that, as Kapur reminds us, ‘culture and sexuality are not uncontested categories in law’ (1999: 362). 

Law is an ambivalent source of power. On the one hand, it acts as an arbitrator of justice allowing citizens to demand their rights and secure the benefits of citizenship. On the other hand, for many people marginalised because of their sexuality, the law can be extremely restrictive - both powerful and difficult to challenge.

Following Susan Boyd, we believe that ‘it is crucial to bring the political economy of sexuality and gender more firmly into our analyses of law’s contradictory role in emancipatory politics’ (1999: 370).  With this in mind, the Sexuality, Poverty and Law Programme has sought to uncover the dynamics of law and sexuality through in-depth country case studies which make apparent the struggles and contestations taking place over sexuality and law and ask what comparative lessons can be learnt.  Five countries – Cambodia, South Africa, Nepal, Uganda and Egypt- served as case studies to explore these struggles.

Each country was selected as it was uniquely positioned in relation to the rule of law and, in each, a different issue relating to sexuality was examined:

• In Egypt, Mariz Tadros explored the public and sexual harassment of politicised men and women before the fall of President Mohamed Morsi;
• Cheryl Overs examined Cambodia’s recent changes to the laws on sex work and human trafficking and their implications;
• In Nepal, Paul Boyce and Daniel Coyle explored the introduction of progressive legislation around sexuality in light of the country’s complex social context and contested and multiple sexual subjectivities;
• Adrian Jjuuko and Francis Tumwesige analyse the implications of Uganda’s Anti-Homosexuality Bill on its legal system; and 
• In South Africa, Alex Muller and Hayley MacGregor provide an examination of the undermining of HIV-positive women’s sexual and reproductive health rights in relation to sexuality, contraception, HIV testing and fertility; while Tessa Lewin, Kerry Williams and Kylie Thomas explore criminal violence, and the associated legal processes, as experienced by lesbian women and gay men.

These diverse studies offer rich and detailed descriptions of what is happening in particular countries in relation to sexuality and law. In Uganda and Cambodia, the cases provide shockingly vivid illustrations of how citizens can be denied basic rights because their sexuality is different to that prescribed by law.  Cases from Egypt and Cambodia show complex relationships between national and international law which can be used both as a driver for repressive law or policy and as a tool to help communities and activists resist the law.  In South Africa and Nepal, the cases demonstrate the challenges of implementation despite progressive legal frameworks. 

Looking across the case studies, the synthesis (by Linda Waldman and Cheryl Overs) highlights a number of key challenges and tensions. It clarifies the need for legal training amongst activists’ and NGOs’ and for increasing their capacity to take on legal cases. It illustrates the dangers of engaging with and challenging the law; including the risks attached to strategic litigation and of dealing with corrupt law enforcement agencies. With limited resources and little capacity, these tasks are even more challenging. 

The synthesis also lays bare the ways in which law puts pressure on people to conform to societal expectations of how men and women should behave (within this binary construct) within a framework that idealises particular forms of citizenship. This creates a particular form of vulnerability and fragility that, for some, results in marginalisation from mainstream society and exclusion from opportunities to benefit from economic and social development. Assumptions about conventional gendered behaviours are, in turn, often reinforced in law making it difficult for people to stand apart from the norm.

The synthesis highlights tensions in the use of specific sexual identities – such as LGBT or gay.  These provide entry points and modalities for legal recognition and for accessing funding, but in ways that can be restrictive and exclusionary.  As such, these terms and categories are simultaneously both useful and problematic.  For this reason we argue that it is necessary for donors and others to provide opportunities to draw on international LGBT discourse, but also to recognise times when this language is inappropriate.

And yet, despite potent obstacles, there are many stories of success. The synthesis also illustrates that opportunities and spaces have opened up and provided platforms for activism and community intervention to challenge the law and to support victims of violence and discrimination. But most of all, the use of a comparative case study approach has made us realise how significant the law is for any discussion of rights in relation to sexuality.  While law is positioned as a means through which to protect people by upholding neutrality, we have found that it simultaneously regulates and intervenes in our lives at the most intimate level; and in ways that are not entirely neutral nor in ways that uphold each individual’s rights irrespective of sexuality.  In showing how the political economy of sexuality is embedded in law, we hope this work exposes law’s contradictory role in the politics of sexuality and contributes towards greater emancipation for all, regardless of their sexuality.