The Promise of Double Living. Understanding Young People with Same-Sex Desires in Contemporary Kampala

ABSTRACT Ugandan urban same-sex desiring individuals frequently encounter and navigate competing understandings of sexuality and sexual identity. Western essentialist understanding of sexual identity introduced by international development partners and transnational LGBT+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bi- and Transsexual) activism, as well as media, offer an alternative to Ugandan non-essentialist and fluid subject positions. This article seeks to understand how young individuals with same-sex -desires in Kampala navigate tensions between Western and local understandings concerning sexuality. We have interviewed 24 young individuals with same-sex desires (unaffiliated and individuals working in LGBT+ organizations) and asked how they approach their sexuality and experiences living with same-sex desires in contemporary Kampala. The results reveal how interview participants engaged in a complex navigation between local community expectations, their own same-sex desires, and embeddedness in a global LGBT+ culture. Although the participants engaged in what Westerners would label as a “double life,” the article problematizes the prescriptive norms of authenticity and “coming out.” The conclusion is that the fluid vs essentialist dichotomy is too simplistic to be helpful when trying to understand the lives and aspirations of young people with same-sex desires.


Introduction
Uganda has been labeled as the world's worst place to be gay in Western media (Peters, 2014, p. 17).Although the state-sanctioned oppression of LGBT+ individuals dates back to the colonial period; Ugandan statesponsored discrimination intensified in the past decades and gained international notoriety when one of the harshest pieces of legislation against homosexuality outside the MENA region (Middle East & North Africa) was introduced in 2009.While successfully challenged in court 2014, the 2009 Anti-Homosexuality Bill, and a range of legislations, such as the Computer Misuse Act, the Anti-Pornography Act, and the Data Protection and Privacy Act are used to target the LGBT+ community (Interviews, 2022).Recently (April 2023) there are new attempts to get an Anti-Homosexuality Bill signed by the President, criminalizing the very act of identifying as LGBT+.In March 2023, an updated version of the Anti-Homosexuality Bill was passed by the Ugandan Parliament and is now awaiting the president's signature.The Anti-homosexuality Bill of 2023 is one of the world's harshest laws against LGBT+ individuals seeking to criminalize the very act of identifying as LGBT+, and the "promotion homosexuality" which will have grave implications for activists', development partners' and allies' ability to conduct advocacy (Human Rights Watch, 2023).
While we should not downplay the plights of individuals with same-sex desires; stories of Uganda as the world's worst place to be gay, may convey a somewhat overly simplified picture.A fluid and situational view of sexuality, where sexuality is rather perceived as an act, rather than an identity, is sometimes described as more uniquely African.This approach to sexuality can be contrasted against more boxed and static sexual identities ascribed to the West, where sexuality is rather viewed as an essential identity.Some argue that this may offer a more nuanced, positive, and community-oriented way of queer living.Peters (2014), for example, concludes in her dissertation that kuchus (a local term for LGBT + activists in Kampala) manage selfidentifications that highlight their relatedness with others.Rather than engaging in a linear coming out process rooted in Western-derived identity politics, kuchus balance between family and community groups, move among different subject positions in search of economic and social stability, embedding them in relations of material exchange.This balancing act, she argues, allows kuchus to avoid the divisiveness of confrontational identity politics.Kuchus ability to balance and navigate overlapping (while sometimes conflictual) family, neighborhood, religious and queer communities have allowed them to build an inclusive LGBT+ community (Peters, 2014, p. 11).Foucualt (1978, p. 43) traced the Western view of the homosexual to the medicalization and judicialization of sexuality in the 19 th century.This is, in turn linked to essentialized categories of race and gender occurring at the same time (Murray & Roscoe, 2018, p. 10).The homosexual became a life form, and nothing that went into her composition was unaffected by her sexuality: the homosexual went from a temporary aberration to becoming a full species.This development has not been as evident on the African continent.Situated homosexual acts have been part of African pre-colonial history and social landscape for a long time (e.g., Murray & Roscoe, 2018), whereas homosexuality as a lifestyle, a public and core identity, is somewhat more foreign (Cheney, 2012, p. 81).Hence, while same-sex practices and desires are by no means "un-African" (contrary to populist political claims on the continent), it has been suggested that modern essentialist LGBT+ identities are (e.g., Cheney, 2012).
The attention Uganda garnered in relation to the 2009 legislation has resulted in an increase in funding for LGBT+ rights and organizations in the country (Klapeer, 2018).Before 2009, the local struggle for sexual minorities was sporadic, fringe and largely voiceless.Three years later, there were 24 LGBT+ organizations in the country (Nyanzi, 2013, p. 962), including five targeting queer youth specifically (Ssebaggala, 2011, p. 53).This mushrooming of LGBT+ organizations has continued.The umbrella organization Sexual Minorities Uganda (SMUG) got requests from 128 (!) organizations to join them in their current reorganization as a network (Interview Kampala, January 2022).This suggests that LGBT+ activists have sensed and grabbed the economic opportunities that follow with international attention.A handful of elite activists have acquired fancy cars, smartphones, and fashionable clothing, signaling their access to Western donor funding (Peters, 2014, p. 180).Critics argue that these organizations have become dominated by the donors' agendas and a Western understanding of sexuality and its relation to individual human rights and international development cooperation.Hoad (2007, p. 69), for example, writes that Western-funded NGOs are embedded in a universalist human rights discourse.Consequently, Peters (2014, pp. 20, 83) suggests that LGBT+ organizations in Uganda tend to organize around a Western-based idea of sexuality as an essential core to selfhood, sexuality as an individual human right.
In this article, we focus on how same-sex desires are understood and talked about in Kampala today, given that funding for LGBT+ rights and organizations mainly comes from the West.Scholars have underlined that the homohetero binary is not always appropriate in non-Western contexts (e.g., Ali, 2017).Still, several LGBT+ organizations in Africa draw on a human (individual) rights discourse to get funding (D.Amory, 1997).We have therefore interviewed people who work and/or are affiliated with local LGBT+ organizations and unaffiliated individuals with same-sex desires.Through semistructured interviews, we explored how they understand their sexuality and living with same-sex desire, as well as how they navigate between personal interpretations of same-sex desires and organized LGBT+ rights agendas, vocalized by local community organizations with support from international development partners.
The article continues with a substantial-nonetheless for the understanding of the argument important-background section on sexuality, LGBT+ rights and development cooperation in Uganda.This is followed by some short notes on methodology before the result section.In the concluding part, we raise some issues we deem to be of pivotal importance for future studies, as well as this study's contribution to more culturally sensitive development cooperation modalities to support LGBT+ rights in the Global South.While the authoring of this article is a joint effort, the first author conducted the empirical datagathering.
Concerning terminology, we have opted for people with same-sex desires rather than queer or kuchu.We believe the term same-sex desire does not privilege an understanding of sexuality as an essential identity and therefore is perhaps more accurate in Kampala.Kuchu, while a local term, is connected to LGBT+ activism (e.g., Nyanzi, 2013, p. 959) and non-activist individuals with same-sex desires would not necessarily ascribe to this label.We also use LGBT + in relation to community organizations, as LGBT+ is often used by local civil society groups to self-reference.

Sexualities, LGBT+ rights and development cooperation in Uganda
Sexuality varies in complex ways across time, place, and culture.Although we should avoid a colonial reification of Africa as a homogenous entity (Tamale, 2011, p. 1), sexuality on the continent is often approached as uniquely different from the West.Here sexuality is frequently discussed in the intersections of race and colonization (e.g., chapters in Tamale, 2011).Colonial anxieties of African sexualities have often revolved around orientalist ideas of an oversexualized virile African male (D.Amory, 1997) whose enlarged penis prevents him from being rational or in control of his desires (Lewis, 2011, pp. 203-205).Such figures of a "natural" and "primitive" man have proven to be indispensable to Western projects of self-definition (Delatolla, 2020;Murray & Roscoe, 2018, preface xxv).Colonial assumptions of Africans as uncivilized, instinct-driven and "close-to nature" implied a belief that they could not possibly be anything but heterosexual (Lewis, 2011, p. 207).Nevertheless, colonial administration introduced and enforced Victorian ideals of civilized sexuality, which was amplified through the rise and spread of Christianity on the continent.Monogamous heteronormativity as a Godordained rule became internalized and understood as African (Tamale, 2011, p. 16).Today such discourses are turned around and used to contrast Africa and African morality with a supposedly degenerated and immoral West (Lewis, 2011, p. 211).However, same-sex practices and cross-gender behavior have a long history in Africa, Uganda and Baganda, which is the largest ethnic group in central Uganda where the capital Kampala is located.
Categories of gender have historically been fluid, situational, and performative in Africa (e.g., chapters in Murray & Roscoe, 2018).In the old Baganda kingdom, members of the royal family were always constructed as men while commoners as women in relation to them regardless of biology (Nannyonga-Tamusuza, 2009).The Kabaka (king) was the Ssaabasajja literally meaning the Man among men (Nannyonga-Tamusuza, 2009, p. 371).The same person could thus be a woman inside the palace while a man outside the palace.Not surprisingly, there is a history of same-sex practices within the palace, with Kabaka Mwanga II being the most (in)famous in what is now known as the Ganda Martyrs of 1886.His favorite lover among palace pages converted to Christianity, refused him sex, and was consequently executed alongside other converts.Hence, long before Judith Butler, the terms man and woman depended on status, place, and situation, describing relations of dominance and subordination rather than biological gender.In other words, in precolonial Baganda, there was same-sex action but without it being considered homosexual or exceptional.
Westernization has introduced the concept of a homosexual, which entails that sexual orientation lies at the core of selfhood.This notion of an independent identity tied to sexual preferences is challenging to Bagand culture because of the value of ekitiibwa.Ekitiibwa is often referred to as respect/ honor, "loyalty, and proper management of social allegiances and hierarchies" (Boyd, 2013, p. 705, or comparable to that of "face" in the Orient, e.g., Iliffe, 2005, p. 167).Ekitiibwa is centered around relatedness and social embeddedness-a person's interdependence and obligation to others, most notably within the same clan.It is considered among the greatest ideals and most sought-after attributes of the Bagandas (Iliffe, 2005, p. 166).The idea of sexuality connected to a person and her human (individual) rights challenges ekitiibwa (Boyd, 2013, p. 704).
Today ekitiibwa competes with a neoliberal emphasis on the autonomous individual (Boyd, 2013, pp. 699-700), especially if she disrupts the community for her own selfish gains.Hence, while Baganda (and Uganda in general) is a society in which the self is traditionally defined in relation to one's kin (Boyd, 2013, p. 705), contemporary neoliberal projects of development and economic restructuring emphasize the individual over the community as the central actor.This destabilizes older social hierarchies, authorities, intergenerational interdependencies, and affinities (Boyd, 2013, p. 700).To speak of who you are, rather than to whom you are related, poses a threat to cultural norms and evokes fears of prioritizing individual interests over those of the community (Peters, 2014, p. 21).Individual rights can thus not be understood outside of social/community (hierarchical) relationships.For example, the Luganda (language spoken in Baganda) word of democracy eddembe ly'obuntu literally means liberties/peace of people (clan) with eddembe carrying the dual meaning of liberty and peace (ordered around a properly installed leader, e.g., Karlström, 1996, pp. 485-487).Furthermore, obuntu connotes more of a civic ideal of courtesy, compassion, good breeding, and culture (i.e., civility) rather than that of a politico-demographic category of politically equal individuals (as in people the citizenry, e.g., Karlström, 1996, p. 486).In other words, ekitiibwa forwards a more situational and community-based understanding of rights, freedom, and democracy.
The value of ekitiibwa also affords a more fluid and situational view of sexuality.With a more fluid and situational attitude toward sexuality, samesex desires can be attended to and managed parallel to your central obligations to your clan/community.Obligations mainly consist of reproduction and securing the clan's survival (forthliving).In other words, same-sex desires do not necessarily exclude a heterosexual marriage.While heterosexual intercourse is important for producing new generations, an arranged or mandatory marriage does not require an exclusively heterosexual orientation (Murray & Roscoe, 2018, p. 93).It is different to define oneself as homosexual to the core than as someone who sometimes desires to have sex with someone of the same biological gender.This is different from Western-rooted constructs of authentic and stable sexual identity, monogamy, and lifelong egalitarian relationship based on romantic love.While welcomed in primary relationships, romantic love has neither been deemed necessary nor expected in Africa (Murray & Roscoe, 2018, preface xxxi).Relationship patterns, both heterosexual and homosexual, have rather been organized around age and status differences in which the older partner (or the one with higher status) takes the inserting role, while the younger partner (with lower status) is being penetrated (Murray & Roscoe, 2018, p. 7).In other words, a Western perception of marriage as a voluntary and individual choice based on romantic love and exclusive sexual desire is more novel than a view of marriage as a fundamental moral and social obligation of kinship (Murray & Roscoe, 2018, p. 93).At the same time, ideas of romantic love are becoming increasingly common in Uganda, not the least due to media, globalization, and the HIV/AIDS pandemic, with campaigns such as "zero-grazing" promoting monogamy to stop the spread of the disease (Nyanzi et al., 2009).The role of the Internet and ICTs in what could be described as a globalization sexuality cannot be understated here.Furthermore, since Mwanga II and the 19 th century, both Christianity and Islam have been embedded in, and adapted to, cultures in Uganda, complicating a clearcut West-Africa divide along lines of Christian and Islamic religious values.
An important code of conduct in Baganda in relation to sexuality is empisa.Karlström (1996, p. 490) defines empisa as good manners in relation to respect for parents, elders, and the clan/community.Same-sex adventures can thus be tolerated if it is done with empisa.This becomes a question of what is visible in the community public and what is not.Same-sex acts may be quietly accepted and even permitted, while as a public topic, sexuality is taboo (Falk, 2018, p. 164;Ssebaggala, 2011, p. 50).In other words, there is a distinction between a private sex life (which is more about desire) and a public marriage which is more about lineage, kinship, and clan/community obligations.
Sexuality in Uganda is ultimately about childbearing (Boyd, 2013, p. 704;Iliffe, 2005, p. 170).Sex is pivotal for the survival of the community (nation), which puts reproduction at the center of Ugandan society and gender systems.To live in accordance with Ugandan culture, you must produce children (Sadgrove et al., 2012, p. 118).You are not considered a woman until you have given birth to your first child.The more children, the more of a woman (with giving birth to twins awarding you a status of a super-woman, nnaalongo in Luganda, e.g., Nannyonga-Tamusuza, 2009, p. 375).Being able to father many children is respectively considered a mark of manhood (Nyanzi et al., 2009).But that does not mean there is no leeway (especially for men) for sexual exploration, pleasure, and gender-bending outside of this fertility norm if it is done with empisa (i.e., hidden) and will not jeopardize ekitiibwa (the honor of the clan/family).A person who adopts a homosexual identity, will not produce children and is thus perceived as a greedy and selfish individual (Peters, 2014, p. 81), not necessarily because of her same-sex desires, but because of her supposedly un-connection to community and lineage-decoupling sexuality from kinship and reproduction (Boyd, 2013, p. 710) and ultimately the survival of the post-colonial nation (Engelke, 1999, p. 302).
Central to this nexus of sexuality, community, and childbearing is money and material exchange, historically through brides-wealth and dowries and in present-day Uganda with expectations of partner support (Sadgrove et al., 2012, p. 119).In Uganda, which has one of the highest fertility rates in the world, children are seen (among other things) as a means to access resources from fathers and their lineages (Cheney, 2012, p. 88).The production of children secures inheritance and transfer of land within the community as well as providing security for parents in old age (Sadgrove et al., 2012, p. 119).This requires heterosexual marriage and procreation, but not necessarily heterosexual orientation or monogamy as discussed above (Murray & Roscoe, 2018, p. 270).One of our interview participants talks about this as a "black tax," that you must take care of your parents when older as there is no social security in the country such as elderly care or a functioning pension system.A Ugandan man is expected to achieve financial independence and cater for the many children, the wife and girlfriends that are the ultimate mark of his manhood (Nyanzi et al., 2009).No romance without finance, as Mills and Ssewakiryanga (2005) eloquently put it in their study of Kampala students.However, pathways to such manhood have become more elusive in presentday Uganda because of increasing poverty in the wake of neoliberal capitalism (Boyd, 2013, p. 708;Mills & Ssewakiryanga, 2005).
With large segments of the Ugandan population struggling to live up to responsibilities, and transactional sexual exchange common in heterosexual relationships, the notion that homosexuality is a result of material exchange has taken root.A central narrative is that individuals are believed to be "recruited" into homosexuality by Western-funded LGBT+ organizations (Peters, 2014, p. 78;Sadgrove et al., 2012, p. 115).The LGBT+ organization is imagined taking on the roles that normally the family and the community play but are unable to do.This invokes fears of turning individuals away from the community and toward more selfish and material gains (Sadgrove et al., 2012, p. 119).A general misconception in Kampala is that LGBT+ individuals have money, which has resulted in increased exposure to robbery, blackmail, and extortion from law-enforcement officers, ex-lovers, employers, and friends (Strand & Svensson, 2022;interviews 2022).Roger (unaffiliated, fictive names are used throughout the article), for example, tells us how he was attacked, beaten, and robbed on the way back home one evening.He went to the police and reported it (interview 2022).But the case was dismissed as he did not want to pay the bribes the police asked for to pursue his case.
At a macro-level, political actors have been able to manipulate social/moral anxieties around sexuality, procreation, and material exchange (Sadgrove et al., 2012).Using LGBT+ rights in development cooperation has resulted in accusations of imperialism and colonialism.In the West, the spread of LGBT+ rights was accompanied by framing such rights as human rights.According to Ayoub and Paternotte (2020) this was partly due to Western LGBT+ activists trying to bypass national borders by redefining sexual rights as universal human rights (as human rights became institutionalized and after World War II protecting rights of individuals over state rights, e.g., Engelke, 1999, p. 291).The promotion LGBT+ rights as an inextricable part of human rights have become particularly pronounced in some Western countries' development policies and programs (Saltnes, 2021).This has been criticized and accused of being neo-colonial.Puar (2013, p. 338) argues that the international "human rights industrial complex" broadcasting of Euro-American constructs of identity, not to mention the notion of sexual identity itself that privileges Western understanding of sexuality and identity politics, including its ideals of coming out, public visibility, and legislative measures as the dominant barometers of social progress, are all deeply problematic.By adopting and promulgating universal meanings around sexuality and gender expressions, development and human rights actors mimic the modus operandi of colonization.Tamale (2011, p. 24) argues that the close link between universal human rights and Western liberal democracies has marginalized voices other than those in the West and hidden different concepts of sexuality.Ali (2017) similarly claims that a human rights discourse is used to universalize Western epistemologies on sexualities while silencing others (or labeling them as barbaric/un-liberated), especially sexually fluid individuals who do not fall under binary confines of lesbian vs. gay, straight vs. gay identity categories.A universal human rights discourse may break down in local African contexts as it carries assumptions about what it means to be a human (individual) that might not be universally and cross-culturally accepted (Engelke, 1999).Rahman (2014, p. 275) refers to as homo-colonialism when LGBT+ rights are used in a neo-colonialist fashion to render certain countries and cultures, not only as lagging but also inferior to the West (see also Delatolla, 2020).Sometimes the concept homonormativity is used to refer to how Western LGBT+ narratives are used as the norm, assuming a development model in which LGBT+ in the South must travel the same path as those in the West to catch up (Jolly, 2011).Yang (2020), in her turn, refers to this as homodevelopmentalism, a paradigm where LGBT+ rights figure both as an indicator and goal of international development.Labeling Uganda as the world's worst place to be gay fits such a homo-colonialist/normative/developmentalist narrative.
The influx of financial support to the LGBT+ community, emanating from Western development partners has contributed to the dramatic increase of LGBT+ organizations in Uganda (Strand & Svensson, 2024).Financial support often comes with the demand, or at least expectation, to tailor activities to fit the donors' policies and preferred modalities, which are based on their ideals and values.It is against this backdrop of increasing repressive legislations, poverty, as well as competing norms on sexuality where local and international norms, ideals and expectations are in many ways incompatible; we set out to study how young individuals with samesex desires approach their sexuality and living with same-sex desires in contemporary Kampala.

Notes on empirical fieldwork
We have worked and conducted research in Uganda for almost 15 years.Hence, we have established contacts in Kampala and have followed and collaborated with several LGBT+ organizations and individuals in research, education, as well as in their social change efforts.This has a bearing on our understanding of the topic and the subsequent analysis.In the last five years, we have, for example, continuously collected and studied LGBT+ organizations' social media presence and practices.Although we draw broadly upon our contextual understanding, this article's empirical data consists of semi-structured interviews conducted during Christmas and New Year's 2021-2022.
24 Interviews were conducted between the 20 th of December 2021 and the 17 th of January 2022.Interviews were semi-structured and lasted approximately 90 minutes each.13 interviews were conducted with unaffiliated individuals, that is, individuals that had no relationship with an LGBT+ organization, and 11 interviews with individuals working for an LGBT+ organization.In the unaffiliated category, all were between 20 and 30 years old, and all identified as men, apart from one transwoman.Among the affiliated with LGBT+ organizations, three identified as women and one as a transwoman, and the remaining six, identified as men.They were all between 20 and 40 years old.This is obviously not a representative sample but will give us an idea of how young people (mostly men) living with same-sex desires in contemporary Kampala approach their sexuality and attempt to navigate the contradictory norms that surround it.We did not systematically collect additional demographic data such as membership and/or affiliation to a religious organization, ethnicity, educational background, or socio-economic data.We suspect that a majority are Bagandas, as it is the largest ethnic group in the Kampala region.Names and attires of interviewees suggest that we have both Christian and Muslim participants in the sample.This does not seem to have had a bearing on our results.
Recruiting interview participants at the LGBT+ organizations was done by using a conventional snowballing technique, where prior field contacts provided the entry point.Recruiting unaffiliated individuals with same-sex desires was done through the gay hookup app Grindr.While being geared toward sexual encounters, Grindr has the advantage of being (mostly) unsupervised by local authorities.The first author, therefore, updated his profile, foregrounding this study's research intentions and priorities.
The interviews were semi-structured with open-ended questions.Questions revolved around how the participant identified themselves, and their experience of living with same-sex desires in the Ugandan (Baganda) context and culture.The interviews were not recorded as it would have resulted in significant difficulties in recruiting participants for the study.Most LGBT+ individuals hide same-sex desires, and anonymity is a pivotal strategy in navigating traditional norms and contemporary interpretations of nonconforming sexuality and gender displays.An assurance of anonymity was especially important for unaffiliated participants.Hence, the first author took notes during the interview and directly after supplemented interview notes with as much additional information as he could remember.Notes were e-mailed to the coauthor.Even though we believe unaffiliated participants did not present us with their real names during the interviews, we have nonetheless changed them in the following result section.However, we are not hiding that we have conducted interviews with individuals working for Sexual Minorities Uganda (SMUG).SMUG is the main umbrella organization for LGBT+ in Uganda.It is a public and vocal organization with a director traveling the Globe to raise awareness for the situation of LGBT+ people and rights in Uganda.Interviews with unaffiliated participants were conducted in public places such as cafés and restaurants.The choice of conducting interviews in public places was taken to ensure the safety of both research participants and the researcher.Participants were provided with food and beverages in connection with the interview, otherwise no compensation was offered.
Conducting interviews in this context is not without challenges.As Gune and Manuel (2011, p. 41) underline, even researchers are sexual beings and need to be aware of the actual or perceived difference in economic and social power between him/her and research participants.
The first author is a white male, and likely to be seen as a potential source of material support, as well as of social status.He was indeed approached with sexual and relationship proposals.After interviews he ended up on participants' Instagram and TikTok accounts and was paraded as what Peters (2014, p. 42) labels as Muzungu-as-commodity (muzungu being the Luganda word for white person).Furthermore, just like African bodies are made objects of homo-erotic fantasies in the West, the first author was also sexualized in all the material, (post)colonial and power-related connotations of the word.As a white, yet petite and somewhat feminine gay man, he was desired, perceived of as means to material wealth obviously, but also as an object of penetration, feeding internalized stereotypes of the virile well-endowed black male coupled with interracial sexual fantasies, not seldom informed by some kind of postcolonial revanchism.
The study also raises questions of positionality and power inequalities in knowledge production.As this study is conducted by two researchers based in the West, there is no escaping the fact that it reflects larger patterns of inequalities in sexuality, gender, and development research, where knowledge production privileges Western ontological and epistemological positions.The two researchers have consciously tried to avoid further reinforcing power imbalances and colonial-ish relationships between the West and Africa (Epprecht, 2018, foreword xvii;Weerawardhana, 2018) by honoring the lived experiences of the participants and underline the complexities in the material.

Results
The globalization and influence of transnational normative flows pertaining to sexuality and streamlining of sexual identification are apparent in Ugandan LGBT+ organizations' social media channels.Ugandan LGBT+ organizations have adopted and embedded their activities in a Western human and sexual rights linguistic repertoire, including structuring their advocacy to a significant degree according to the global LGBT+ rights event calendar (Authors removed).For example, on October 11, Ugandan LGBT+ organizations broadcasted their support for the National Coming Out Day.December 10 was the United Nations Human Rights Day, and on March 31, the LGBT+ world celebrates the International Day of Transgender Visibility.Ugandan LGBT+ organizations' social media posting practices suggest that they are part of a global LGBT+ movement which seems to follow a Westerninfluenced calendar based around boxed-like LGBT+ identifications and their connections to practices such as "coming out" and sexual rights as (individual) human rights.An analysis of Ugandan LGBT+ organizations' social media channels would thus suggest that the local struggle for equal rights is defined by a seamless internalization and adoption of a Western repertoire of constructs and actions.
The interviews, however, reveal a surprising diversity in how people understood their sexuality.Although most participants used a Western linguistic repertoire, participants expressed an interesting mix of sexual pluralism, which captured more fluid attitudes toward sexuality.Quotes below try to capture the range in which participants answered the question of how they understood and defined their same-sex desires.The first three quotes are representative of a more fluid attitude toward their same-sex desires, and the latter three reveal more boxed LGBT+ identities.
"I see myself as queer for now, might be evolving, labels are limiting" (Brent-unaffiliated) "It is complicated, I think I am bi, I had two girlfriends, but I'm more into men than girls" (Gus-unaffiliated) "I do not define myself" (Evan-unaffiliated) "I am a gay man, nothing more, nothing less, period" (Stephen-LGBT+ organization) "I am a gay man, period, I have not been with girls and will not" (Adam-unaffiliated) "I am gay, I love men, I was born like this" (Reginald-unaffiliated) You could suspect here that more essentialist sexual identities were not only connected to social media practices, but also connected to engagement in LGBT+ organizations.While there are some truths to this in our study, it is far from the complete picture.Individuals interviewed at a lesbian organization claimed to be bi/pan/sapio-sexual and even mentioned their previous boyfriends during the interviews.Princess for example defines herself as fluid and Love as a "free spirit" and as pansexual.Participant Love underlines that she does not want to be put in a box.Victoria also defines herself as pansexual.Before, she was a lesbian, but now it has evolved.She has been with transmen, women and CIS-men but seems to prefer transmen, at least for now.David (LGBT+ organization) defines himself as bisexual and is apparently dating both a girl and a guy simultaneously.This complicates the argument that LGBT+ organizations in Kampala organize around Western-based ideas of sexuality (e.g., Peters, 2014, pp. 20, 83).
Social media seems to constitute an international front, following a global LGBT+ calendar and agenda.This does not necessarily resonate with how people in these organizations negotiate their own same-sex desires and organize their LGBT+ activism in the local context and culture.Indeed, our previous studies of LGBT+ organizations' social media practices suggest they are rather geared toward an international audience than a domestic one (e.g., Removed for peer review).What surprised us (coming from the West) is how interview participants contradicted the content of their social media channels with how they approached their own sexuality.
The interviews complicate the supposed dichotomy between Western essentialist sexual identities and African fluid sexual identities.The literature accurately describes how cultural norms around sexuality between the West and Africa diverge.But this does not mean there are no individuals with boxed essentialist sexual identities in Kampala.And this cannot only be ascribed to post-colonialism, social media, or the globalization of sexuality.Reading the literature closely, studies reveal that even before colonization, essentialist sexual identities were present in Africa and Uganda.For example, in some parts of Uganda, an alternative gender could be ascribed and accepted to a non-masculine male based on his/her impotence (and hence the impossibility of procreating, Murray & Roscoe, 2018, p. 33).To say that Ugandans historically, and per definition, are sexually fluid is thus a generalization and simplification.In the history of same-sex desire in Africa, those not fluid have, in many cases, been able to claim not only impotence but also spiritual possession and, in this way, manage to navigate their non-normative sexual and gender identification (e.g., chapters in Murray & Roscoe, 2018).Being possessed by, for example, a female spirit that is in your biologically male body (e.g., D. Amory, 2018, p. 80) indeed indicates that your same-sex desire is an essence, something that is inside of you and will not change in another situation.Especially non-masculine males who did not marry women and produced children could be sanctioned by spiritual beliefs.In some communities, they even took on religious roles as they could claim supernatural powers (Murray & Roscoe, 2018, p. 7).
A sexuality norm in the West around essentialist box-like sexual identities will push fluid and situational ones to the background, but also vice versa.Samesex desiring people in Kampala go to great lengths to live according to the value of ekitiibwa.They even apply a fluid understanding to their same-sex desire when it seems more of an essential identity.Evan (unaffiliated), for example, who in the quote above did not want to define himself, still said that he, from his childhood, knew that he did not want to have sex with girls.So why does he not define himself as gay?Because his mum would not like him to be gay and because she expects kids from him.He says he will force himself to get a girl pregnant to give his mum kids.But it is not her kids, it is his kids, we protest.He explains that this is connected to the honor of the family.Yussuf (unaffiliated) similarly says that he is going to find a lesbian, have kids and, in this way, fit in.Reginald (unaffiliated) explains he might be pushed to get a girlfriend.Pushed by whom, we wonder.He answers that he would be pushed by the community and family members.He wants to stay in the "safe zone" and not be frowned upon and judged.It is difficult to label these individuals as either sexually fluid or essentialist.It becomes apparent that this analytical lens is limited when attempting to understand young people with same-sex desires in contemporary Kampala.Rather than their sexual self-identification, the expectation of children preoccupies our interview participants.This is particularly pertinent to firstborn men.Andy (unaffiliated), who is 21 years old, tells us there is pressure on him to have kids.As the firstborn male, he is responsible for the family's lineage.CIS women interview participants also told us there are expectations put on the firstborn.But then, it was more about ekitiibwa (honor) than lineage.Love (LGBT+ organization) says that as the firstborn girl, she has an extra responsibility for the honor of the family.
Given empisa, being "open" about their same-sex desires was not an option for most of our interview participants.Ahmed (unaffiliated) explained that he would never tell his parents about his sexuality."No, no, NO, I don't think I ever would want to" (emphasis in original).Not even people working in LGBT+ organizations considered being fully open an option.Victoria (LGBT+ organization) claims to be out, but not to her parents.Since they do not have social media and are not very educated (according to her), a double life is possible, she explains.Will she ever come out, we wonder?"No, no, no, my mum is a pastor, and she would kill me."While probably an exaggeration, we hear similar stories in other LGBT+ organizations.To tell parents was, in most cases, so unthinkable that people like David (LGBT+ organization) could claim to be out while not being open about his same-sex desires to his parents.Apparently, we understand "being out" differently here.Our understanding of "being out" is connected to an idea of an essence to stay true to, authenticity, and that our bewilderment as researchers is perhaps a result of our cultural upbringing, as well as initially posing questions around sexual selfidentification.Double-living, or hiding parts of your life, might be considered normal and not particularly problematic in Kampala.In fact, the moral code of empisa affords (or pushes) people with same-sex desires into double living.In other words, what it means to be out is culturally embedded and leading a double life is considered a viable, and not a particularly shameful, option for many of our interview participants.Young Evan (unaffiliated), for example, did not want people in Kampala to know he hosts same-sex desires.Still, he wants to live them out.In the future, he would like to go to the US because he believes he can be free there.It becomes apparent in the interview that he would find it easier to lead a double life out of the US than out of Kampala.He could send money to his family and take care of them, and in this way, show proper respect while having sex with men without being afraid of being outed to his mother and siblings.
Ekitiibwa and money, taking care of family expenses, seem related here.Paying for younger siblings' school fees would, for example, silence nosy parents and community members."If you pay, they shut up, but if you do not have money, it becomes more complicated" Princess (LGBT+ organization) explains.Victoria (LGBT+ organization) tells us that the fact that she comes home to her parents with money regularly, silences even her homophobic pastor mum.She fulfills some of her obligations toward her family by taking care of her younger siblings' school fees and providing the family with some much-needed extra cash.By doing this, the family downplays and avoids raising attention to the transman she always hangs out with.Without money and without fulfilling expectations of support from her family, she would not have been off the hook that easily, she speculates.Money then becomes central for the possibility of double living in accordance with empisa and ekitiibwa while living out your same-sex desires at the same time.Evan (unaffiliated) tells a similar story, where money is seen as a central way of giving back to the family he explains has given him respect and helped him out so much.He honors his family, acknowledging his obligation to them, by sending them money.It thus seems possible to honor your family, without compromising your same-sex desires.Questions about staying true to who you are, and deceiving your family, were met with incomprehension in the interviews.
Not being out, leading your life with good manners (empisa) and not bringing shame upon the family (ekitiibwa), is more about community image than parental incomprehension of their children's sexual desires.In Uganda, families are often extended.Parents invest relatively little in their offspring (compared to the West) and pursue what Draper (1999, p. 145) labels delegated parental responsibility.Kids are thus not as emotionally tied to a parent figure, while the extended family of aunties, grandmas, and neighborhood/community adults are more important.Andy (unaffiliated) says that a child is for the whole community.So, the supposed shame of being openly LGBT+ is not primarily problematic for the parents but for the whole of the community who most likely has been involved in their upbringing.Indeed, there could be dire consequences "coming out" (in a Western understanding of the term), leading to families disavowing them, losing support systems, et cetera.Still, some interview participants told us that biological mothers (mostly, but sometimes fathers as well) were OK with them having same-sex desires if they kept it secret from the wider community.We were told stories of people "coming out" to their parents who then asked them to keep it to themselves, thus in a way, pushing them into a double life.Indeed, in Kampala, empisa and ekitiibwa are more important than authenticity as in the West understood as staying true to who you supposedly are and being fully open about your sexual desires.
At the same time as double living surface as a core strategy for young people with same-sex desires in contemporary Kampala, LGBT+ organizations gladly posted celebratory messages on their social media channels on the National Coming Out Day (as attended to at the beginning of this section).This adoption and celebration of a Western ideal should, however, not be immediately interpreted as a sign of actors embracing a Western view of sexuality.Rather such expression needs to be placed in the political economy of LGBT+ activism.With no (or little) domestic funding available for LGBT+ advocacy and LGBT±friendly services, digital displays of support for transnational norms and ideals are likely also driven by financial necessity.This is understandable in a country where poverty is widespread, and people struggle to put food on the table.But even if digital lip service to Western rhetoric may be driven by financial incentives, Western practices and ideals may still merge with local practices and create new and interesting ways of being.The concept of "coming out" means something different in Kampala compared to the West.In other words, what we in the West may perceive as opportunistic, may be a common and culturally accepted practice of double living, being used and skilled in adopting and adapting to different norms and expectations in different situations.When interviewing participants in LGBT+ organizations it became apparent that working for LGBT+ rights, but wanting a comfortable life and not "being out" (in a Western understanding of the term) were not in contradiction to each other.These organizations offered job opportunities, financial as well as emotional support (for some).Visibility of the LGBT+ cause, as in equal rights, was more important than their individual visibility as LGBT+ rights advocates.Even unaffiliated interview participants, while seeking a double life for themselves-hiding their same-sex desires in family and community circles-hailed social media for making the cause more visible.Ahmed (unaffiliated) says that the biggest change during his years as sexually active is that there is more visibility of the cause now because of social media.He believes that visibility was one of the primary reasons behind the increase in more straight allies in the country in his generation.David (LGBT+ organization) explains that people get the news on social media before on legacy media (and perhaps more accurate in a context like Uganda).Yussuf (unaffiliated) talks about a trans-woman in a karaoke bar and how everyone was cheering and applauding.On Valentine's Day, he saw a gay couple on a moped with flowers, and his friends were totally cool about it.Andy (unaffiliated) even speculates that in 10 years a person will be able to say I am gay on NTN (Uganda TV station).He even witnessed two guys in a club kissing.He himself would, however, never do that.Many of the participants appear to be positive about the increased visibility of LGBT+ rights, but that does not imply wanting to be public yourself with your samesex desires.This might be difficult to understand out of Western-based understanding of coming out and concepts such as authenticity.

Concluding thoughts
To conclude, it seems that a dichotomy between sexuality as an essential identity in the West and sexuality as a fluid performance in Africa is too much of a generalization.As Tamale (2011, p. 4) underlines, we should avoid homogenizing and essentialising people's sexualities, whether Africans or Europeans.Given globalization and the post-colonial privileging of the West, norms emanating from here are often more targeted in critical academia.While cultural sensitivity should be applauded, an anxious and overtly critical academia eager to draw sharp and simplistic boundaries between Africa and the West will prevent us from understanding young people with same-sex desires: their messy and often precarious realities navigating between their sexual desires, an increasingly global LGBT+ culture, their own livelihood, community, and family expectations.At the same time, there is no denying that language, research and understanding of sexuality have been formed in Western discourses (Tamale, 2011, p. 12).Setting out to do this research, we did not consider this sufficiently.Our first research question revolved around how people identified themselves, adopting an idea of sexuality as primarily an individual matter and identity issue.This research, and our understanding of the topic, are indeed affected by us being two white researchers residing and being trained in the West.
We could conclude this article by stating that young people with same-sex desires in contemporary Kampala skillfully and with good manners (empisa), navigates honoring their families (ekitiibwa) and their sexual desires.We could reiterate and confirm Peters (2014) argument about "kuchus" trying to balance overlapping family, clan, and LGBT+ community expectations, producing a rather unique form of associational and "public" life that help them to survive.But we wish to underline the importance of double living for such balancing and navigation and the role of money in making double living possible.
Approaching development cooperation and funding to LGBT+ individuals and organizations in Kampala from this perspective would raise another battery of questions than whether the West pushes essentialist categories onto defenseless Ugandans unable to uphold cultural norms and values in the face of Western funding.While colonial experiences are important to consider, the West-Africa dichotomy seems over-emphasized in concepts such as homocolonialism.But should we avoid homo-nationalism/colonialism/normativity/ developmentalism, would this imply that development cooperation should facilitate double living?And if so, should this be done through LGBT+ organizations or directly target same-sex desiring individuals?Is the dramatic increase of LGBT+ organizations in the country (which correlated in time with international attention and funding to LGBT+ rights) a result of a perceived opportunity structure of double living?What does foreign funding do to the field of relationships within the Kampala LGBT+ community?Should perhaps international funders not address the sensitive and culturally messy topic of sexuality at all, and rather frame their support as economic development?Are precarity and poverty the real problem here rather than the possibility of exploring and having sex in an allowing, fun and consensual manner?While we do not have an answer to these questions yet, we firmly believe they need to be put on the agenda and discussed.Future studies should zoom in on the intersections of LGBT+ rights and poverty, taking cultural differences into account, while not being overtly anxious about post-colonial correctness.