I believed I had found the ideal guy, until our initial meeting.

As I lay there, bloodied and bruised, I could barely comprehend what was happening. My attackers had viciously assaulted me, spitting out hateful and homophobic words in Pidgin – a language native to my country, Nigeria. I tried to defend myself, but they were relentless, delivering blow after blow to my body. As they advanced towards me, unbuckling their belts, I realized with horror that they intended to rape me.

I pleaded and screamed for them to stop, but they didn't listen. Pinned to the ground, I could feel the pain and terror coursing through my body as they violated me. I was just a young man, a victim of their hatred and prejudice. How could they do this to me? I never thought I would die like this.

When I regained consciousness, I saw my attackers talking amongst themselves. I knew I had to try and escape, but before I could make a move, they grabbed me and dragged me to an abandoned building, where they tied me up to prevent me from fleeing again. I was stripped of all my belongings, including my clothes, and left naked and vulnerable.

As a gay man in Nigeria, I was all too familiar with the dangers of being open about my sexuality. Homosexuality is heavily stigmatized and even criminalized, with severe penalties for anyone caught engaging in same-sex relationships. Growing up, I was always different, with mannerisms that were deemed effeminate by society. I endured bullying and sneers, but at least I had my loving and accepting family to come home to.

But now, as I lay there, my life in the hands of my attackers, I couldn't help but think about how difficult it was to be queer in my country. I had no one to turn to, no one who would understand what I was going through. I had to hide my true self, to live in constant fear of being discovered and facing the consequences.

It wasn't until I was in college that I decided to explore my sexuality in secret. I joined online communities, like Grindr, where I could connect with other queer individuals like myself. But even then, I had to be cautious and discreet, never knowing when someone might find out and expose me.

And now, as I lay there, my body violated and my spirit broken, I couldn't help but feel like this was the price I had to pay for being true to myself. I never wanted to die like this, but in a society that demonizes and condemns people like me, it seemed like a very real possibility.

As the men continued to taunt and abuse me, one of them pulled out a knife and threatened me into silence. I was helpless and hopeless, trapped in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. This was the reality of being queer in Nigeria – a constant battle for survival, where even the slightest hint of your true identity could mean the end of your life.
I met a guy on the app and we agreed to meet up at a public place before heading to his house. I was hesitant and scared, but I was also desperate for human connection.
When I arrived at his house, I was greeted by five men instead of the one I was expecting. They immediately attacked me, spitting derogatory slurs and beating me.
I lay there a bleeding, writhing mess, unable to defend myself against the overwhelming number of my attackers. They continued to taunt and hurt me, saying that as a homosexual, I deserved this.
I was filled with fear and confusion, wondering why my sexuality was something to be punished and tortured for. The pain was unbearable, both physically and emotionally.
As I lay there, I couldn't help but think about how I never thought I would die like this. How I never thought that my sexuality would lead to such a horrific and violent attack.
But even in the midst of my suffering, I couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. A hope that one day, being queer in Nigeria would no longer be a crime. That we could live freely and without fear of persecution.
But for now, all I could do was endure and pray for survival. Pray that eventually, I would be able to live my truth without fear.

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