Last week, I went to cover a meeting of the Coalition on Human Rights and Constitutional Law at Imperial Royale Hotel in Kampala. Tempers flared as people spoke emotionally while debating the anti-homosexuality bill.
The guest speaker was Professor Makau Mutua, a Kenyan scholar in law, gender, and sexuality. He spoke about human rights, why people are homophobic, and argued that there is no single “normal” sexual orientation—what is normal is what is natural to each individual.
Before I get back to that discussion, let me take a step back to a conversation with my neighbour from Spain, Anna Maria, who came to Uganda for a journalism fellowship under the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ). She is a political writer attached to one of Uganda’s daily newspapers, The Monitor.
Anna Maria and her husband, Ernesto—who speaks very little English—arrived in Uganda about two months ago. They live in the apartment just above mine in Kiwatule.
One Tuesday morning, as is often the case, Anna Maria and I left home together for work. We boarded a taxi (a 14-seater matatu), and as usual, began discussing the previous day’s events. She had attended a press conference by the Forum for Democratic Change (FDC) and was reflecting on the party’s candidates, Dr. Kizza Besigye and Maj. Gen. Mugisha Muntu.
She mentioned that she had missed an opportunity to ask what she felt was an important question: why the opposition remained largely silent on the anti-homosexuality bill, despite frequently speaking about democracy and human rights. It was a fair question, but time had run out before she could raise it.
Our conversation shifted to how homosexuality is viewed in Spain, where, from her perspective, it is largely treated as a matter of human rights. We became so absorbed in our discussion that I did not notice the silence that had fallen over the taxi. The other passengers were listening.
In the front seat sat a man who had been following our conversation closely. He suddenly turned, visibly irritated, and asked Anna Maria whether she really thought it was proper to practise homosexuality.
“In Uganda, we shall never accept it,” he said. “We have to protect the traditional family.”
His views were not unusual. Many Ugandans hold similar opinions. Those who think differently are often people who have been exposed to other perspectives, are open-minded, or both.
The man then asked Anna Maria what she would do if her son married another man. By now, his tone had grown sharper, and he was staring directly at her. She calmly tried to explain that if her son were gay, it would be his choice, and while she would not encourage it, she would not interfere.
He responded by saying that in countries like hers, people are encouraged to become gay, which made her raise her voice slightly in response. Then he said something that stunned her: if his son were to engage in homosexuality, he would kill him.
Mob justice is not uncommon in Uganda, and Anna Maria was unfamiliar with how quickly situations like this can escalate. I also recalled how an American reporter working on a similar issue had once nearly been deported.
Soon after, Anna Maria reached her stop and got off. As I prepared to alight shortly after, the man turned to me again and repeated his view: that Africa would never accept homosexuality.
He also expressed a common fear—that if Uganda did not pass a law outlawing homosexuality, a large part of the population would become gay.
I stepped out of the taxi and continued on to another day of work.
Fast forward to last week’s meeting, where Professor Mutua delivered a compelling talk. He explained why homosexuality should be understood as a human right, challenged the idea that it is “un-African,” and explored the deeper reasons behind widespread homophobia on the continent.
During the discussions, Odonga Otto, a Member of Parliament, made it very clear that he was thinking and speaking like about 90 percent of his colleagues in Parliament. “MPs do not consider homosexuality a right, and it will never be a right in their lifetime in Uganda,” he said.
The author of the Bill, Bahati, holds the same position—that homosexuality is not a right. Period.
As the discussion progressed, one issue stood out clearly in the seminar, which was mostly attended by lawyers and human rights activists: many Ugandans would not accept homosexuality as a human right.
During the workshop, there was a demand for a scientific explanation for homosexuality. Some participants, including MPs, told Prof. Mutua that if there were scientific evidence explaining why people become homosexual, the debate would be different. They were convinced it was a health problem.
Even if research were to be carried out, it is unlikely that it would be done in Africa. Many people in Uganda believe it is a learned habit, and as one pastor alleged, it is even motivated by money. “We can treat them psychologically and talk them out of the habit,” he concluded.
Here are some thoughts and observations on this issue. It is possible that homosexuality has existed in some African societies, even in Uganda—who knows? But prior to this Bill, few people seemed to pay much attention to it.
Now, some in the community feel that they are being pressured and coerced into engaging with and debating homosexuality. A woman who frequently travels for international meetings recently told me, “It is not our agenda at all. We have more serious problems, and I feel uncomfortable when I am constantly exposed to discussions about homosexuality.”
Many others have expressed similar sentiments. For a country like Uganda, which faces many pressing challenges, some question whether this should be a priority.
Secondly, the way people debate and interpret issues depends on many factors. The ability to listen and engage in discussion without becoming emotional or confrontational is rare and does not necessarily depend on one’s level of education.
Much of the fear expressed in Uganda is that if homosexuality is not outlawed, a large number of Ugandans will become homosexual. One explanation for this fear lies in the nature of society. In Uganda, as in many African countries, communities are closely knit—everyone’s life is seen as everyone’s business. Cultural norms are strongly enforced, and anything that falls outside accepted standards is often judged harshly.
This brings me to another point raised by Prof. Mutua—that homosexuality is often considered “un-African.” Mr. X, the man in the taxi, asked Anna Maria, “Why do you people bring homosexuality here?” In his view, she represented an entire culture.
For many Ugandans, the voices opposing the anti-homosexuality Bill are largely external, apart from a few local human rights activists. This creates the impression that a foreign perspective is being imposed on a society that believes it has the right to determine its own values and direction.
Public condemnations by prominent international leaders, while African leaders remain largely silent, have not helped the situation. The Bill itself is a private member’s Bill, and its sponsor, Bahati, has not always been able to defend it convincingly in public discussions. In one televised debate, for instance, the argument appeared disorganised. This creates an opening for opposition, but the strong external pressure may also harden local resistance.
I will say this again: the homophobia is intense, but so is the pressure from outside. My sense is that the Bill may ultimately not be passed—practically speaking, it would be difficult to enforce, given how many people could be affected, including those in churches and the medical profession.
However, when external actors push too strongly against it, it can make local communities feel alienated and more determined to resist what they perceive as outside interference.
As Anna Maria later reflected, the longer she lives in Uganda, the more she understands reactions like that of Mr. X. There are many factors that shape how societies tolerate or reject different ideas, but one thing remains clear: meaningful dialogue is still limited.
There is a proverb in Uganda that says people from underground cannot tell those living on the surface how hot the sun is or how bright it shines—they are from underground. Those on the surface can decide for themselves whether the heat is too much and choose to plant trees for shade. But when those from underground insist too strongly, people above may become stubborn.
(Disclaimer : These are reflections based on what I have heard through interviews and observed as a journalist, as well as my own views. Interestingly, a friend recently told me not to write about this topic at all—she called it “demonic.” I am a Christian, but I value open discussion and understanding what people think.
Ends
