ity.Repressionispopular.In 2019 only14%
ofKenyansbelievedhomosexualityisac-
ceptable,comparedwith72%ofAmericans
and 86% of Britons (see chart 2).
The closet is sometimes the safest op-
tion. Becky Odhiambo Mududa, who helps
to run Nyarwek, a gay-rights ngoin rural
Kenya, reckons only 50-100 of its 1,500
members have come out to everyone they
know. Another 300 or 400 are comfortable
telling only fellow lgbtpeople, she esti-
mates. Those who are open benefit from
up-to-date information about homo-
phobic violence and police crackdowns,
which members share with each other via
an online messaging service.
Since Kenyan teenagers are unlikely to
encounter peers or role models who are
open about their homosexuality, the inter-
net plays a greater role in education. Rose
Ambasa, 21, grew up in a slum in the capi-
tal, Nairobi. She did not understand her
feelings for other girls until she borrowed
her brother’s smartphone one day and goo-
gled “Who is a lesbian? What do they do?” “I
came to accept myself,” she says. “It helped
me so much that I came out of depression.”
Some wait years to discover they are not
alone. Purity, now 24, grew up in a village
with no internet access. When she felt at-
tracted to a female classmate at 14, she had
no way of knowing whether others had
such feelings. “I was scared,” she says. “I
was trying to get it out of me, just praying to
God to figure out what it is. I just wanted to
be a normal girl.” As soon as she got a
smartphone, on her first night at college
five years later, she searched whether it was
possible to fall in love with another girl. “I
then discovered it’s normal.” The next day
she confided in a classmate, who was sym-
pathetic. Soon afterwards, she began dat-
ing another student.
The internet can also provide hope,
even to those in the bleakest situations.
Delphine, 21, was raped by local men when
they found out she is a lesbian. When shefellpregnant,hermotherforcedheroutof
thefamilyhome.Threeyearson,sheisina
long-termrelationshipwithanotherwom-
an. They are raising her son together. She
finds inspiration for the future on You-
Tube, which she scours for videos of gay
wedding ceremonies in other countries.
“People applaud it,” she says, incredulous-
ly. She probably watches two weddings a
day, and shares the couples’ joy. “We hope
some day when our country allows it, we’ll
get married,” she says. “We talk of growing
old together.”Don’t stop me now
The internet’s increasingly pivotal role has
its downsides. Natasha Jones, who runs a
youth engagement programme at the Gay
Centre in Manhattan, has seen good and
bad. Plenty of teenagers only find out about
her programme online, then come to ask
questions and meet other teenagers before
coming out to their parents. But, she says,
the internet can be a source of misinforma-
tion during this formative time. The cen-
tre’s sexual-health classes often need to
counter misconceptions young people
have picked up online, such as that lesbi-
ans cannot get sexually transmitted infec-
tions or that losing your virginity is meant
to be painful. “We have young people com-
ing here with the wildest ideas,” she says.
“YouTube has taught them and that’s fact.”
It also gives a space for homophobes
and trolls to direct abuse at youngsters who
raise their heads above the parapet. Worse,
it provides a forum for involuntary “out-
ings”. In Kenya, rumours about someone’s
sexuality spread rapidly on social media.
Several of the people supported by Nyar-
wek were “thrown out of the closet” in this
way, by former partners or friends with
grievances.
But bigots and dodgy information exist-
ed long before the internet. That it makes
such things more visible does not negate
the largely positive role it plays in gay peo-ple’s lives. Studies frequently find that gay
people suffer higher rates of depression
and anxiety than heterosexuals. “Trying to
hold conflicting identities or lying to your-
self causes incredible mental strain,” says
Mr du Plessis. Enabling more people to be
honest with themselves and others at an
early age ought to reduce this strain. Great-
er openness will improve sexual health,
too, enabling better targeting of preventive
measures and treatment for hivand other
sexually transmitted infections.
The shift towards transparency will also
raise awareness. In some countries, popu-
list politicians caricature homosexuality
as a western import. J.M. Kariuki, a Kenyan
nationalist, was fond of calling it “that vice
for which we Africans have no name”. Oth-
ers deny its existence. Ramzan Kadyrov,
the head of the Chechen Republic, has re-
portedly presided over the routine abduc-
tion, torture and killing of gay men. He de-
nies that, instead claiming: “we don’t have
any gays. If there are any, take them to Can-
ada.” By shining a spotlight on domestic
gay populations, the internet will make
such claims even more risible. “In our ad-
vocacy work, one question that comes up is
‘where are these queer people, do these
queer people exist?’” says Caroline Mwo-
chi, also of Nyarwek. “Coming out actually
puts a face on it.”
And being visible is the surest way to
change social attitudes. The rapid rise in
support for gay rights in America between
1980 and 2000 followed a steep increase in
the number of Americans who said they
knew a gay family member, friend or col-
league. In 1985 only a little more than a fifth
did; now 87% do. “We’ve seen over the de-
cades that this is how change can take place
in the hearts and minds of people,” says Mr
du Plessis. “People often have a knee-jerk
reaction. But when you take it down to a
personal level, it becomes real: this is your
daughter, your aunt, your minister, your
colleague.” As coming out spreads around
the world, tolerance probably will, too.
Purity, for one, isn’t going to wait. Now
that she has come out, she regularly mes-
sages friends online to arrange to meet at a
gay-friendly bar in central Nairobi. At an
outing before the pandemic took hold, a
flashing neon sign marked the entrance, on
a bustling street packed with battered
minibuses belching foul-smelling fumes.
Inside, two young women moved closer to-
gether on the dance floor, just as one of the
buses honked its horn. Another woman
flicked a rainbow braid in her cornrows.
Purity and her friends shared beer and gos-
sip. She has no regrets about coming out.
Though she has faced discrimination look-
ing for a job, her mother surprised her by
being “quite cool with it”. She is certain that
one day she will meet another woman and
they will marry. In the meantime, she says,
“I feel good being who I am.” 746 International The EconomistAugust 8th 2020
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