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Prior to Victor Ugoo Njoku and Neec Nonso’s feature-length documentary, This is Love, there has been a gradual increase in documentaries that attempt to rightly contextualise the experiences of queer Nigerians. These documentaries exist as a sharp reaction to the homophobic and queerphobic narratives being peddled in mainstream Nigerian media. Rustin Times-produced documentary Defiance: Voices of a New Generation | Nigerian LGBT+ Documentary, Nihu Media’s Being Gay and Queer in Nigeria | Proud and Unafraid and Vice News’s Trans Resilience in an African Fashion Capital exist as alternative narratives to the dismissive and wrong narratives that dominate Nigerian media.
These releases in Nigerian queer media history haven’t been without uproar. Uyaiedu Ikpe-Etim’s Ife, a short film about two lesbian women, is one queer Nigerian film that got institutional homophobic response in recent queer media history. Olaide Kayode Timileyin’s On the Street is another addition to the growing list of queer media available for Nigerian and world audiences willing to understand the complex realities of being a queer Nigerian. Babatunde Apalowo’s globetrotting All The Colours of the World are Between Black and White is another queer representation of restrained love and emotions.
Njoku and Nonso’s This is Love, in reading through the thematic tone of its predecessors, doesn’t just place itself as another addition to this growing list of positive representations of queer Nigerians. Rather, the documentary brings a thematic shift to queer representation in Nigerian media by focusing its gaze on the story of three queer Nigerian couples. Although This is Love understands and occasionally features the resilience, pain and trauma of the LGBTQ+ community members that the preceding documentaries spotlighted, the documentary, in a non-dismissive tone and framing, spotlights the complexities of being a queer couple in Nigeria. It captures, through warm-hearted conversations, the interior lives of Nigerian queer couples. From seeking healthcare, expressing their love, spirituality, to finding community, the documentary spotlights daily realities of these couples.
To accurately do this, the documentary enlists the help of Maya, Silva, Ijeoma, Emanuela (Man on Skirt), CJ and Jeffrey. Guided by Ikebuaku‘s alluring voice as the narrator, the couples seamlessly move from answering deeply personal, to existential to political and cultural questions. Although the film tactically denies us access to the questionnaire’s voice and questions, in the expansive varying responses given by the couples we could feel the ease and care associated with each question.
The conversation glides around religion, spirituality, sexuality, coming out and family. Accurately fixated on these internal issues in the couple’s lives, whenever attention strays to external stuff (homophobia, catfishing and estrangement from family members due to their sexuality), it’s asked and tactically steered towards using it to understand how it affects the internal affairs of the couples. Thus, while the documentary doesn’t primarily concern itself with these extracurricular affairs, watching it, as one who understands the Nigerian and African homophobic climate, thoughts around homophobia can’t help but steer into focus. The tactical movement between the internal and external as highlighted above is one of the strengths of Njoku’s documentary.
Apart from answering knotted and laidback questions, the documentary is filled with heartwarming moments between the couples. In these moments, the couples aren’t conscious of the preening camera (a possible metaphor for homophobic gaze.) We see them playfully enjoy poolside moments, trace hands at each other, oblivious of the camera movements and presence. There are occasional painful laughter and the comforting embrace shared amongst the couple that point to the sincerity of their individual and collective love. As hinted by the separately held interviews, their relationships are filled with the equal muddiness, mundaneness, awkwardness and vulnerability that every healthy relationship demands and holds. Love, between queer and straight people, is filled with the delightful marker: attention towards each other’s needs, care for each other and compromises when possible.
This is Love’s existence and others made by queer-leaning filmmakers are made under hushed circumstances which prohibit them from being “legally” and openly produced, promoted, distributed and exhibited in the country or continent. This is cause for concern. Within the framework of the Nigerian legal system, making queer-centric films and distributing them is punishable by law. Institutionalised homophobia strangles creatives from distributing their films – possibly the reason why Apalowo’s All the Colours… despite its international success hasn’t and won’t be distributed in Nigeria cinemas. Thus, for Njoku and the crew members to dedicate time, resources and their lives to making the documentary, isn’t solely an act of resistance; it’s an act of love. For, loving is an act of war.
As James Baldwin said, “Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.” Conclusively, This is Love is a film that whenever you have the rare opportunity to watch, you should watch it twice.
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(Updated 13/02/2025: An earlier version of this article incorrectly mentioned Victor Ugoo Njoku as the narrator; this has now been corrected.)
