ABSTRACT
In 2001, I began ethnographic research with a community of young people engaging with queer rights discourses emanating from the Namibian sexual minority rights NGO known as the Rainbow Project (TRP).1 From 1995 until 2005, when President Sam Nujoma finally stepped down from office, numerous government officials from the ruling party, the South West African People’s Organisation (SWAPO), vilified gays and lesbians, likening them to infectious diseases, genetic mutation, anti-nationalism, neocolonialism, corruption and globalisation. My original concern was how this intensely homophobic climate and the resultant public health silences shaped the HIV vulnerability of young people living in the impoverished township of Katutura. I also grew fascinated with some young people’s vivid displays of gender sexual non-conformity, which appeared remarkable at a time when ruling government officials were deploying virulent anti-homosexual rhetoric. However, multiple overlapping forms of violence periodically interrupted their gender-dissident performances, as the following description excerpted from my field notes for May 2003 illustrates:
After many long hours, our HIV/AIDS awareness committee finished painting the walls of TRP in preparation for a safer-sex poster exhibition. As some of us began crumpling up the newspapers that served as a drop cloth, from the corner of my eye I watched a heated argument spark between Hanna, a selfidentified ‘butch lesbian’, and Melvin, who often dressed in partial feminine drag. Hanna accused Melvin of sexually coercing a young, gay friend of hers at a ‘safer sex’ educational weekend organised by the Rainbow Project (TRP) a few weeks previously. Melvin adamantly denied it. Despite our best attempts to settle the argument it continued to escalate, especially when Melvin placed his hands on Hanna’s shoulders. We all knew that this physical contact would further ‘set off’ Hanna who had endured intense physical and sexual abuse at the hands of men since she was a child. As more members of the working group became drawn into the dispute, a barrage of insults flew, such as: ‘at least my mother didn’t die of AIDS’, ‘Your aunt is a prostitute and has a sugar daddy’, ‘You only have Standard 6 [education level]’, ‘Ovambos are dirty’ and ‘Damaras don’t have real culture’. Such deeply cutting insults culminated into physical violence between six of the members. The eventual casualties included a bloodied lip, a broken tooth, a slashed-open knee and other bodily bruises. Beyond the physical injuries, what unsettled me most was the gendered form that the violence took during the episode. The previously proud composure of
the butch lesbians noticeably drew downward while the posture of the three ‘feminine’ males inflated. Earlier that day I witnessed these same feminine males request ‘the men’ (Hanna and some of the other butch lesbians) to move the furniture in preparation for the painting, gesturing that they were physically too delicate to accomplish the task themselves; and Hanna and her butch friends were more than happy to demonstrate their strength. Now, the vibrant physical presence of these women diminished. They appeared vulnerable and tentative, similar to when other young women in Katutura encountered violence from men. As for the dainty, feminine-acting males, they appeared to drop all traces of effeminacy before my eyes, transforming into violent and aggressive men. The episode reached an abrupt denouement when Hanna noticed two ‘nonmembers’ lurking about outside the office. She insisted that both young men, botsosos [criminals] she called them, wanted to rob TRP. One of them asked if he could enter the centre, even though it was well after hours. Hanna instantly shouted ‘Nie [no] man . . . you can’t come in’ and then bent down and began to draw an imaginary outline around the front of the office door with her hand while repeating, ‘This is LGBT safe space. You are not allowed in here’. One of the men began ridiculing Hanna and the other butch lesbians saying ‘why are you dressing like men?’ He then called us all ‘moffies’, with great distain, and proceeded to hurl a large, empty beer bottle at one of the newly painted walls inside the centre, sending fragments flying, just missing a few of us. In the midst of this commotion, Hanna, with almost manic devotion, repeated her mantra: ‘This is LGBT safe space’.
