My leave approval came through on the 10th of December and I had never been more excited to see an email (except of course, credit notification emails from GTBank). I was very happy that I could finally put off everything work related till the 7th of January 2015. I didn’t know what to do with myself during the holiday season, as all the members of my inner circle of friends had fled Nigeria (never to return), and the other Macaulay was booked for a family holiday; added to the fact that almost every other person I know was going to Dubai for Christmas. It was down to spending the holidays with my parents or sitting alone in Port Harcourt, and eating bread and nutella on Christmas day. Honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to spending the holidays with my parents, as Mummy Dearest had brought up the big M two times in the last three months. The thought of spending almost two weeks with them began to give me stomach ulcer.
I finally landed in Warri on the 19th of December because someone I grew up with was getting married the following day, and I was a groom’s man. The city of Warri hadn’t changed so much; but the irksome part of it is that I barely have any more friends here, as everybody I was friends with had grown up and moved away. I dreaded the thought of spending the holidays without any friends. Sleeping in my old bedroom was fun though, even though one never grows up in the eyes of (my) parents; imagine being woken up by 5:30am and instructed to go wash the car before they go to morning mass! Like seriously? I don’t even wash my own car. And I’d have to wash the two cars, because they would not decide which one they’d use till they come downstairs. (heavy sigh) Continue reading
Seventeen years ago in Kings Mills, Ohio, a child was born into the Family of Mr. and Mrs. Alcorn. They named him Joshua. As a young child, Joshua was unusual; he was effeminate and loved to play in girl’s clothing. He loved dolls, long hair and other things that females are normally inclined to. At the age of four, he started feeling like a girl trapped in a boy’s body.
The family attended the Northeast Church of Christ in Cincinnati and Joshua was raised in a strict Christian home and was constantly fed with what most of our parents filled or do still fill us with – several doses of religious doctrines and ample bible texts.
At the age of fourteen, after several years of emotional torture living in the closet, he decided enough was enough, and decided to come out to his parents. He did and got a stern negative reaction from them. He also made it known to them that he wanted to be referred to as ‘she’ and Leelah, not Joshua. Continue reading
It’s been five days since Kenny Badmus ‘broke the internet’ with his coming out post on Facebook. And in that time, there have been both love and hate reactions from different people with access to the internet. The brand expert has acknowledged them all and had something to say to all that on Facebook. Read below:
‘In conclusion, having reviewed all emails, comments, hates and goodwill in the last couple of days, I’m happy to say this is not about us. It’s about the ones who don’t have the platforms to speak. Or the one whose voices have been muffled by the fear of being rejected. The culture of shaming and silence has harmed us as a people, especially in Africa. Continue reading
I was fortunate to come across this blog the month it started, April 2014. I’ve tried my best to follow it and at first it was kinda a love-hate relationship. I was skeptical about it. I felt it would go the way of other groups. I made a classic mistake of equating it to a BBM or Facebook group, and boy! have I been proven wrong. It’s the end of 2014, and Kito Diaries is still standing. So kudos to Pink Panther, and the contributors, both in stories and in comments. To the numerous visitors who are yet to add their voice and/or share their stories, we still thank you and we remain patient; slowly but surely, you’ll break forth from your shells and we’ll be here to welcome you.
2014 came with its fair share of highs and lows, and like everything male related, it was sometimes a battle of egos. We read great stories and got introduced to various characters. Some people came with thirst that cannot be quenched by the Living waters, while others seemed to ram their ideologies down other people’s throats (pun intended). At the end of it all, we moved on, we laughed, we bickered, subtle hook-ups were made, the readership grew, and the blog got better. Kudos once more to us all. Continue reading
‘I wish I’d never written the story. It’s just been the cause of hassle and problems and irritation since the film came out. Before the film, it was all right… In Wyoming they won’t read it. A large section of the population is still outraged. But that’s not where the problem was. I’m used to that response from people here, who generally do not like the way I write. But the problem has come since the film. So many people have completely misunderstood the story. I think it’s important to leave spaces in a story for readers to fill in from their own experience, but unfortunately the audience that Brokeback reached most strongly has powerful fantasy lives. And one of the reasons we keep the gates locked here is that a lot of men have decided that the story should have had a happy ending. They can’t bear the way it ends — they just can’t stand it. So they rewrite the story, including all kinds of boyfriends and new lovers and so forth after Jack is killed. And it just drives me wild.
‘They can’t understand that the story isn’t about Jack and Ennis. It’s about homophobia; it’s about a social situation; it’s about a place and a particular mindset and morality. They just don’t get it. I can’t tell you how many of these things have been sent to me as though they’re expecting me to say, ‘Oh great, if only I’d had the sense to write it that way.’ And they all begin the same way — I’m not gay, but?.?.?.? The implication is that because they’re men they understand much better than I how these people would have behaved. And maybe they do. But that’s not the story I wrote. Those are not their characters. The characters belong to me by law.”
— Author Annie Proulx explaining to Paris Review the negative response from some readers to the ending of her short story, Brokeback Mountain, that was adapted into the Academy Award-winning 2005 film
I spent my Christmas at home. It was a nice quiet one. For me anyways. My brothers went to a party and I sat my ass at home. I invited a friend of mine over who is straight but knows I’m interested in guys. He didn’t know the way to my house so I went to get him, and as we walked down to the red brick house that I call home, he told me about how he had finally got a girlfriend and was less shy. This was someone who would avoid meals in my A-level school just so that the huge crowd of secondary school students we shared the school with wouldn’t stare too much at him. Those students could stare… It was unnerving. And it didn’t ease up even after we spent a whole year. Sometimes I felt like a zoo animal under observation and would start my habit of chewing on my lower lip because I was nervous. I don’t think I’d mind anymore if that happened again. Might even revel in it because, Bitch, I’m fabulous!
Anyways he kept on yapping about the girl and how he really liked her and how she understood him and blah-blah-blah. He told me about the first time he kissed her, about how it was sloppy and she just laughed about it and stuff like that. I’m glad he’s getting more confident now; he’s had suicidal tendencies because he felt his life sucked and he could never make his parents happy since he wasn’t overly intelligent and stuff like that. It might not seem like a big deal to commit suicide over, but sometimes that shii can be very irrational. I did my best to be there for him, listened to his secrets and fears and shared mine as a show of friendship or good faith, and though he used to be quite homophobic, he’s much better now. He even found out his roomie was gay, and after the initial shock, he said he couldn’t give two fucks (as long as the guy doesn’t hit on him. I rolled my eyes then). Continue reading
Hello, my name is Dennis Macaulay. And I want to introduce you to an as-yet unnamed series that I will be writing here on Kito Diaries in the New Year. This is something I have wanted to do for some time, but I’d always second-guessed my writing skills. PP supported the idea and I decided to go ahead with it.
What to expect? (Please do not roll your eyes yet) Random thoughts and musings based on the things that happen daily as part of my chaotic life. It will not be fiction; it will be more like a diary, even though some things will be tweaked a bit where necessary to conceal identities. I will be sharing a lot of my opinions (which I must warn are usually unpopular), my daily experiences and the things I have learnt in my old age of 28 (okay, that was tongue-in-cheek). Continue reading
So I just got back from work and was tired as fuck, but I decided to write this piece, one which is greatly influenced by the events that took place today.
It was 10 o’clock in the morning and I didn’t have much doing. Scrolling through my phone, I got a ping from a friend of mine, a very close acquaintance. He wanted to know if I’d be travelling home for Christmas, and my reply was that it was still under probability. He then cracked a joke about my parents bringing up the “marriage talk” when I get home. I gave him a ‘lol’ and he went on to say that it’s my biggest fear. I was quick to clear that up. For the record, my biggest fear is “getting old”, yeah I’m vain. I can’t think of anything like old age damaging my pristine, pretty face. The mere thought of it sends a cold chill down my spine.
So I went on to tell him I’m just annoyed about the marriage issue, not scared. And that’s how the long argument started. Continue reading
I grew up with my fair share of insecurities. Insecurities over my complexion, my writing, parts of my anatomy, my personality and eventually, my sexual orientation. However, unlike most acquaintances I’ve made who spoke of the demons they fought over their sexualities, torments that pushed them to extremes like fasting and attempting suicide, I never once let the fact that I was different bring that much darkness inside me. I had bouts of depression, yes. But I was basically still a child, loved, pampered and blissfully unaware that my difference could pose a real problem in my adulthood.
However, I got older, and became more aware of the world around me. I began to realize the extent of society’s disdain for my kind of person. I fell prey to a homophobic opportunist; I was kito-ed. I heard the stories. I shuddered at other people’s experiences. I began to know the fear. Depression threatened ever so often. Questions about the future began to plague me: Do I want to be this person? What about my family? Do I want to risk alienation from them by staying true to myself? What about marriage? Can I stand marital eternity with a human being I feel no sexual attraction for? Can I live that lie? Do I want to? Shouldn’t I want to? Does not getting married mean I’ll lack companionship as I age? What about children? What about old age? What about the continuation of my legacy? Continue reading