The Kolanut Collective

By Lotanna O.

As a young, queer Nigerian, the recent news of USAID’s reduced funding and eventual withdrawal from direct support to queer initiatives here feels like a seismic shift. It’s a moment that forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about dependency, resilience, and the very nature of our movement.

Before the influx of foreign aid, our community existed in the shadows, a constellation of clandestine gatherings and whispered networks. We found each other in the corners of websites like Manjam and Gaydar, in the hushed tones of shared secrets. We built our own spaces, however fragile, driven by an innate need for connection and survival. This organic existence, though precarious, held a unique authenticity.

Then came the aid, a lifeline that transformed our landscape. International NGOs and donor agencies, like USAID, provided crucial funding, enabling the emergence of formal organizations and empowering activists to challenge oppressive laws and societal norms. We went from whispers to organized advocacy, from hidden gatherings to public campaigns. Funding facilitated partnerships, brought queer issues into mainstream discourse, and created livelihoods for many within our community, a critical aspect given the economic marginalization faced by queer Nigerians.

However, this reliance on external support came at a cost. The initial focus on HIV/AIDS, while vital, inadvertently pigeonholed our community, reducing our complex identities to a public health crisis. This limited narrative, although necessary at the time, made it difficult to advocate for broader human rights. As argued by scholars like Stella Nyanzi, focusing solely on health interventions can overlook the systemic, socio-political roots of marginalization (Nyanzi, 2013).

Furthermore, the influx of funds bred internal divisions. Accusations of corruption, embezzlement, and gatekeeping became commonplace. It also created a new class of elites in the community with high paying salaries in foreign currency and with very little accountability. The very resources meant to liberate us created new power dynamics, favoring those with existing connections and perpetuating inequalities. The question of whether our programs are truly community-driven or merely donor-compliant has become undoubtedly pertinent.

The dependency fostered by foreign aid is undeniable. Years of funding have left many organizations struggling to achieve financial sustainability. The sudden withdrawal of support leaves us vulnerable, exposed to the whims of foreign political landscapes and the shifting priorities of international donors. As observed by scholars like Sarah C. White, external aid can inadvertently undermine local ownership and long-term development (White, 1996).

Now, we stand at a crossroads. The departure of USAID forces us to confront our vulnerabilities and reimagine our future. It’s time to reclaim our narrative, to move beyond a donor-driven paradigm and embrace a model of self-reliance. To achieve this, we should consider the following:

For Local NGOs: Shift focus from dependency to self-sufficiency. Explore diverse revenue models encompassing tiered membership contributions, targeted community donations (including giving back by established leaders), mission-aligned social enterprises, and strategic partnerships with progressive local businesses. Use resources and finances prudently. Establish robust transparency and accountability measures, including term limits for key positions, to build community trust and guarantee funds are used as intended.

For International NGOs: Advocate for policies that allow local ownership, resourcing, and accountability to the broader community. Where possible, support queer organizations in Nigeria efforts to raise money domestically without fear of persecution. Facilitate knowledge exchange programs that equip local activists with the skills needed to sustain their work independently.

For Donors: Rethink funding models to prioritize sustainability. Support diverse voices, initiatives, and programs that enrich our narratives, strengthen our advocacy, and drive the mission to advance queer rights in Nigeria. Support the development of local fundraising mechanisms and diversified funding sources. Instead of short-term project-based grants, invest in long-term capacity-building that enables local organizations to generate their own revenue streams. Ensure that funding strategies are community-led and responsive to the specific needs of the Nigerian queer community. As committed partners in building a truly inclusive society, collaborate with the community to uphold transparency, accountability, and shared responsibility.

The path ahead will be challenging. But it is also an opportunity. We must embrace a new era of self-determination, one where our movement is fueled by our own resilience, creativity, and unwavering commitment to justice. As young, queer Nigerians, we must recognize that our liberation is intrinsically linked to the strength and independence of our community. It is time for us to take ownership of our destiny, to build a movement that is truly ours.

References:

• Nyanzi, S. (2013). ‘HIV/AIDS and the Politics of Sexuality in Uganda’. African Studies Review, 56(2), 115-136.
• White, S. C. (1996). ‘Depoliticising development: the uses and abuses of participation’. Development in Practice, 6(1), 6-15.

Note: Unless otherwise indicated, the thoughts and opinions expressed in our blog section are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of TKC or its leadership.