“This is Love”: Victor Ugoo Njoku’s Reflection on Marginalization and Queer Media

Queer Nigerian and African media is continually growing despite state and homophobic stifling. Queer Nigerian media exist in the songs of Temmie Ovwasa, visual arts by Tega Akpomedaye and Eloghosa Osunde, Ani Kayode Somtochukwu, Akwaeke Emezi and other Nigerian books. And This Is Love, a queer-themed documentary co-directed by Victor Ugoo Njoku and Neec Nonso, and co-produced with Ebuka Njoku is an addition to the growing queer Nigerian library. The documentary relates the experiences of three Lagos-based LGBTQ+ Nigerian couples, navigating the complexities of their romance in a hostile and conservative society.

This documentary which is now available to watch on GuildDoc adds to the growing number of positive and humanising films around queer Nigerians and alternative queer spaces and festivals. Nigerian creatives are creatively resisting homophobic erasure and laws despite the legitimized homophobia. Njoku’s documentary is one of those revolutionary films. 

In this interview with the director, we spoke about accessibility and distribution of queer African Cinema and Accessibility, the state-sponsored marginalization of queer Nigerian films and media and the inherent limitations of alternative and niche streaming platforms. 

This interview has been edited for clarity. 

What does it mean to you and the vision of This is Love that the documentary is publicly available to watch on GuildDoc?

It means validation. And I hate to admit this. I have never sought validation or felt the need to be validated. But when you make a film, and start trying to get people to see it, you get a lot of nos and doors shut at your face at several stages, that getting that one yes means everything and somehow signals that you have done good enough work. Theoretically, I know that “no” doesn’t mean that the film wasn’t good enough. I understand that the film’s subject is the major reason for which it is being rejected, especially since I had a distributor raise this concern, even before trying to speak to the other gatekeepers. And the feedback was that they couldn’t get the film accepted after attempts were made, owing to the subject.  So although I knew all this, getting accepted to GuideDoc meant “yes, we see that you have done good work that needs to be seen and we are proving this to you by accepting your film”.

The vision is to get as many eyeballs as possible on the film. That is more difficult when it streams on a not so popular documentary-only-streaming-service. But, it is a good start and we are still exploring other avenues to get people to see the film, which I believe helps foster conversation around the rights of LGBTQ+ people in Nigeria, Africa and even the whole world. 

There is a growing number of Nigeria queer media and spaces. How do you see your film contributing to the growing body of queer African cinema, and what message do you hope it conveys to Nigerians and Africans? 

I would like to think that This is Love is the first Nigerian documentary film that focuses on the lived romantic experiences of LGBTQ+ couples in Nigeria. The documentary also has a broad representation of the LGBTQ+ community with the representation of a lesbian and gay couple, and the transman with a ciswoman. There’s also an asexual and sexually fluid person. In queer stories, gay men are often the most represented but, in This is Love, they weren’t. 

We told a story that represented many people and most importantly didn’t focus on gay people. I would like to go as far as saying that This is Love is revolutionary in that way, but I will leave it for the people documenting the film industry to do so. LOL. But I think this is also part of what I hoped for. I hoped for a film that would tell the story of LGBTQ+ couples in Nigeria and would make members of the community feel seen. Hope is what keeps members of the community going and I hope the documentary will give them that. 

Also, I hope that heterosexual Nigerians can also see the humanity of LGBTQ+ people and maybe pause to reflect on how we are all similar in our need for love and in the way that we love. Again, the feedback so far suggests that we did that. A straight woman sent me a VN of themselves crying after they watched This is Love and I felt guilty and started to apologise. While I wasn’t hoping to bring people to tears, I was hoping that people feel things that make them think, or that clarifies questions or just raises more questions. I hope that people also remember how This is Love makes them feel and take actions that enrich the lived experiences of LGBTQ+ people based on these feelings. 

Accessibility of queer media and spaces is still complicated judging from the country’s homophobic laws. What do you make of this? 

Simple answer, it is silly. But these things don’t usually have simple answers. What I have been thinking of more and more is how to build a structure or system that can enable media producers to produce more queer media content. Thankfully, there’s YouTube and a lot of people are using that to tell their stories. Although, I think YouTube is now mainstream Nollywood, we still see that people look down on films and media content on Youtube, in a way that almost reduces their relevance and the work people do on that platform.  Also, like every other social media platform, YouTube users are sort of in a bubble, in that only people who are interested in queer content access it on YouTube. Which means that even though these spaces are growing, the growth seems to be limited to the members of the LGBTQ+ community and the allies. This still leaves the problem of figuring out how to make queer media and queer spaces mainstream. I don’t have any clear ideas, but I have been thinking a lot about it. And if anyone is working on something in that regard, I would like to be part of it. They should please involve me. 

And, how do you think queer Nigerians can access and engage with your film, given the country’s restrictive laws and social norms?

GuideDoc is available in Nigeria and every part of the world. The subscription fee is about 4,500 Naira and one can access about 3000 award-winning documentary films from different parts of the world. Anyone who can afford it, should definitely get on the service and see This is Love. Plus, I get paid if people see the film, please queer Nigerians should epp my life. But beyond seeing the film, it would be great to have conversation around it. But I understand how hard it is to have these conversations that can have consequences for people. Some of my friends have attempted to explain to me that they can’t share or post about the film on social media. And I think it is cute and sad at the same time. So while I will be more than happy to see people raving about This is Love, I understand that a lot of people won’t be able to publicly engage with the film and I encourage such people to reach out personally, as I would like to hear people’s thoughts on the film. And of course, anyone who likes the film should share it with their family and friends. The queer community in Nigeria are definitely familiar with having and sharing information within the community that isn’t accessible to people outside the community. 

What role do you see online platforms playing in increasing accessibility to queer Nigerian films?

Online platforms remove or at least reduce censorship. I have seen a few BL films on YouTube. These films get significant views and the comments suggest that the audience are more than grateful to have access to these films. This is only possible because online platforms like YouTube exist. This is Love is accessible in Nigeria because platforms like GuideDoc exist and Nigerians can see Babatunde Apalowo’s All the Colours in the World are Between White and Black because of Mubi. I can give more examples and I think the missing piece is getting these queer stories in more prestigious and recognisable platforms like Netflix, Prime, Disney plus.  

The film is publicly available on a niche streaming platform. First, what do you think about this “limitation” and what alternative distribution channels, such as film festivals or community screenings, to reach a broader audience?

While I’m grateful for this, I’m also well aware of this limitation. Unfortunately, the Nigerian economy is struggling at the moment. There are new subscription services that a lot of people can barely afford to pay for. And here I come with a new streaming service that streams only documentaries. It is tough to get people on board, to be honest. But anyone who genuinely enjoys watching documentaries will get value for their money, getting on GuideDoc to watch This is Love and other documentary films offered. 

We were already in a few festivals, winning Best LGBT feature film at a festival in Brazil. We have also done two private screenings and are looking at exploring the private screening options some more. 

What are some of the ways in which queer Nigerian films are marginalized or excluded from mainstream cinema, and how can this be addressed?

The one way I can tell from experience is by shutting down. The Nigerian Film and Video Censors Board (NFVCB) had issues with Pamela Adie-produced and Uyaiedu Ikpe-Etim-directed Ife. When the censor board gate keeps one’s film, it can become the end of the film’s journey. Apalowo’s All the Colours in the World are Between White and Black is a beautiful Nigerian film that never made it to the Nigerian cinemas or got on any major streaming service. The film becomes another film known to only film journalists. A distributor told me from the jump that it was going to be hard. And this was even before they made any efforts. They came back to say, no one wanted a documentary exploring LGBTQ+ themes. The marginalisation starts from not letting these films be seen in the first place. In that lies one of the solutions. Anyone who wants to make a queer must find ways to show it to the audience. First to the queer audience and the general audience. I want to tell you that I know how this should be achieved. But  I would be lying. Should we address the homophobia in the country first? But how does one address that without stories? Should I say that we need more LGBTQ+ decision makers? But these decisions are not made by one person, and always speaking up for a marginalized group can cost one’s job. It is complex. And everyone should do their bit. Producers produce and find ways to get to the audience, in spite of the hurdles. Anyone who has the means to do anything should do it. Systems have to be built. But by whom? And how? Again, anyone working on solutions should involve me.

How do you think queer Nigerians can see themselves reflected in your film, and what impact do you hope it will have on their lives?

In making This is Love, I thought a lot about my childhood and particularly about me as a 17 year old. The first time I googled sexuality, and googled the connection between being effeminate and being gay was at 17. At this point, I had been called gay and homosexual and would be called a faggot months later. And all these were because I was effeminate. I read everything I could find on Google on the subject of sexuality. I don’t remember reading anything written by a Nigerian at this time. And it made me almost wonder if homosexuality was in fact a foreign and un-African thing. So I have wondered a lot about a film like This is Love being useful to my 17 year old self  or a 17 year old effeminate boy in Awka (where I grew up) with questions about their sexuality (particularly because, they have been told that they have to be gay because they are effeminate), or  just a 17 year old gay boy anywhere in Nigeria wondering what their lives could look like. And I think we made a movie that might not give all the answers, but gives some or at least raises questions. And I know this because I have been asked some of these questions.   

After news broke out about a homophobic attack that resulted in the death of a gay man, someone said to me that they wanted to watch This is Love again, to spark some queer joy and to help them navigate what they felt about the news. I nearly teared up hearing that. And as someone who had used The Golden Girls as comfort during a grieving period, I knew they meant it and it was further confirmation that we made a good film. And I hope that the documentary holds these small meanings for queer Nigerians and spark little queer joys cos with the shege that abounds in Nigeria currently, it has even become more paramount to seek out these little escapes, even if it is in the story of three LGBTQ+ couples. 

How do you think the growing availability of queer films can be leveraged to increase visibility and promote understanding and acceptance of queer Nigerians? 

I believe in the ability of a story to shape ideas and meaning. How could I not? I’m doing a master’s in Global Communication and we discuss these things in class daily. One of the reasons I particularly wanted to tell a happy queer story was because I believe sad stories are harder to connect to and people tend to build blocks that protect them from the sad stories. But with a happy story, one can easily get lost in them and want to bask in it and share it. 

So yes, I think in telling queer stories publicly, we can build a Nigeria that is however slightly less homophobic. However, we need more than stories. We need legislation that protects LGBTQ+ rights. There’s only so much we can achieve with queer films if nobody will even see them.