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Ugandan trans activist Victor J Mukasa chats with Maxine Clarke.
The document in my hands details a 2004 sting by an undercover journalist from a Ugandan tabloid to ‘out’ gay rights activist Victor J Mukasa. The journalist, perhaps unreliably, claims Mukasa “fell in love”, and they were intimate.
That Mukasa would let his guard down in this way contradicts almost everything I know to date about him and the harsh reality of what it takes to survive life on the run as an openly transgender Ugandan in the most homophobic continent on earth.
“I would rather die struggling to break the chains of bondage than live pretending to be comfortable with the chains,” Mukasa once stated, “...I will not negotiate with anyone about freedom of gays and lesbians... I will not bow down to oppressors or traitors ... Enough is enough!”
Born Juliet Victor Mukasa in a prominent Kampala family, he was beaten by his father and ostracised by his community for behaving like a boy and stripped naked, assaulted and exorcised by a church eight years ago when he was 27 in an attempt to banish the ‘male spirit’ which had purportedly invaded his body.
In 2003, on Ugandan radio, a then unknown Mukasa condemned the country’s approach to sexual diversity in the wake of the suicide of 18-year-old Paula Rwomushana, who was caned in front of her classmates when love-letters from a member of the same sex were found in her possession.
Ugandan press published Mukasa’s photograph alongside the comments, and he began an extraordinary career as a human rights activist.
Now a founding member of a number of African GLBTIQ advocacy and human rights groups, including Sexual Minorities Uganda (SMUG), Freedom and Roam Uganda (FARUG), the East and Horn of Africa Human Rights Defenders Network (EHAHRDN) and African Solidarity,
Mukasa is also on the board of management for Gender DynamiX (the first African-based organisation focusing on the trans community), and currently works for the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (IGLHRC). As the most prominent gay rights activist in Uganda, he has been subjected to ongoing harassment and state-sanctioned intimidation.
In July 2005, Mukasa’s house was illegally raided by a local government official, and a fellow activist arrested and detained. As a result, Mukasa has become the first GLBTIQ Ugandan to sue the government.
At the time of this interview his case is inexplicably still awaiting judgement, despite the last hearing having taken place some seven months ago in October 2007. But it’s nevertheless mobilised the country’s queer community, with many risking their lives by gathering outside the court to show their support.
Of his decision to mount a legal challenge, Mukasa tells CHERRIE: “Many times before, I did nothing ... I decided to seize the moment – for everybody, for us. This was not just about me ...we kept telling this to the GLBTI community, and the community embraced the idea. Because of this, we have a victory before the judgement.”
Mukasa, understandably, has a love-hate relationship with his native Uganda. While many other rights activists have been forced to seek asylum overseas, Mukasa says, “This is my home. I will not leave home. Asylum means nothing to me ... I only leave to get some fresh air.”
Later on though, after recounting an incident which occurred recently, when an international bank refused to let him open an account (an employee later stating off the record that Mukasa works for an organisation which promotes an illegal practice), Mukasa laments, “I cannot even open a bank account ... I feel like making my home on another continent altogether. I feel like a stranger in my own land.”
Despite his observations that “attitudes are beginning to drift in a positive direction”, the reality of Mukasa’s situation is accentuated when he discusses the logistics of obtaining a lawyer in a hostile environment, getting enough security for his arrival at court and securing safe housing for the duration of the case. He cries with happiness over having lived in his current residence for six months.
“I used to move after about one month,” he says. “You lead a simple life. You lose everything. You enter with only your clothes. You leave with only your clothes. For the first time I have my own cups to drink tea out of, my own basin to wash in, my own bed sheets and my own television. I can sit down in my home and make myself a meal.”
When asked about what the Australian community can do to support the human rights of GLBTIQ Africans, Mukasa speaks of skill-sharing by way of volunteer work within Africa, building international networks, and providing emergency funds if needed.
And what does the future hold for Mukasa, once the long-awaited court verdict is delivered? “Even if we win there will be trouble,” he concedes. “There will be trouble ... but I have not yet planned for that period ... I want to lead a normal life.”
Visit www.sexualminoritiesuganda.org and www.genderdynamix.co.za for more on queer rights in Africa.
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