Before Bobrisky, the anti-corruption watchdog succeeded in convicting actress Oluwadarasimi Omosein on the same charges in February. Following her conviction, she was given the option of paying a fine instead of going to jail. (Photo credit: STEFAN HEUNIS/AFP, Getty Images)
Bobrisky is hard to define. She is a socialite, social media influencer, transgender woman, queer icon, and currently a guest on the Nigeria Correctional Service.
She was sentenced to six months in prison after being found guilty of “spraying,” in which revelers throw banknotes in the air or stick them on their bodies, a tradition in Nigeria's party tradition. It has become the moon. According to the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), this amounts to misuse of the naira.
Despite the widespread use of 'spraying', this crime is rarely prosecuted.
Before Bobrisky, the anti-corruption watchdog succeeded in convicting actress Oluwadarasimi Omosein on the same charges in February. Following her conviction, she was given the option of paying a fine instead of going to jail.
Bobrisky was not given that option. Similar charges were filed last month against another socialite, Pascal Okechukwu, also known as Chief Cubana.
There is a background to these sudden charges. Nigerian authorities are trying to save face, if not the value of the naira, after its value plummeted against the US dollar. In recent months, foreign exchange traders have been arrested for allegedly participating in “speculative activities” and crypto traders have been accused of sabotaging the naira.
But in Bobrisky's case, many, including her critics, see the conviction as punishment for challenging Nigeria's purported conservatism on gender expression and sexuality.
Among the EFCC's court evidence is a video of Bobrisky being “sprayed” at a movie premiere in March, where she won as an attendee and balked at being recognized as the “Best Dressed Woman.” It was wrapped.
And within days of her conviction and sentencing in April, news broke that the Nigerian government was able to confirm that Bobrisky had not undergone gender reassignment after “thorough testing.” announced.
Femme fatale, glamorous, greedy and iconic, Bobrisky's rise to fame has been eventful and well-documented, especially by herself. She first gained popularity on Snapchat by bleaching her skin using the products she was selling at the time.
Her viral soundbites and videos have since permeated popular culture. She is probably Africa's most popular queer celebrity, with her 5 million followers on Instagram.
This involved constant scrutiny of her sexual and gender identity.
When it comes to issues of identity, her ideas are constantly changing, making her a controversial figure both within and outside the queer community.
But whether she represents or rejects queerness, Bobrisky's continued visibility has put queer Africans in the spotlight. She is a queer icon regardless of her own politics.
“Bobrisky's existence is a story of queer resistance. It's quite complex and interesting,” said Matthew Blaze, a Nigerian activist and founder of the queer rights group Obodo. “It is fraught with issues of identity crisis, denial, and even betrayal of the community.”
Bobrisky has occasionally stated that he is not gay and only cross-dresses for fame.
When police arrested 67 people in Delta State in August for attending a gay wedding, Bobrisky said on Instagram that he deserved to be arrested because Nigerian law prohibits gay marriage. said.
“I think her life story was very effective in conveying the strangeness of life to people who might not have been able to understand it just by reading it on paper,” Blaise said. “I also believe she is misogynistic, homophobic, classist, and incredibly problematic.”
Nigeria’s fascination with Bobrisky illustrates both the power and limitations of the internet for the visibility of LGBT+ people. This visibility has protected Bobrisky thus far. And despite attempts by countries to legislate, it is this visibility on the internet that has largely defined the past decade of the fight for LGBTQ+ rights in West Africa.
Since the 2010s, many queer Nigerians and Africans have denounced laws that criminalize their lives. Although this has not resulted in legal change, it has contributed to cultural change. It is no longer possible to pretend that LGBTQ+ people don’t exist in Nigeria or Africa.
LGBTQ+ activists are prominently present in political moments such as the #EndSARS protests in Nigeria and the march against femicide in Kenya.
Bobrisky’s visibility, and until recently the freedom he enjoyed, did not reflect the broader reality of the average transgender person in Nigeria. Many are homeless, and the privileges that come with wealth and fame expose Bobrisky to the kinds of danger and violence he thought he would be safe from.
“She had power, influence and access, more so than many Nigerians,” Blaise said. “People are attracted to power and influence.”
While there has been a lot of uproar in Nigeria after he won the best-dressed award at the premiere of the movie Ajakaju, Bobrisky continues to be an online influencer, apparently causing a national controversy. does not seem to be affected.
Most trans women need to take a different approach. Just a few weeks later, Liber, a 22-year-old student and trans woman, went to a screening of her own movie, and the next morning she woke up to see a photo of herself posted on social media. I was shocked.
“I woke up and there were thousands of people saying all sorts of things about me,” she said, pausing between breaths to compose herself. “I felt very anxious about using the Internet.”
It also made me fear for my life in the real world. In college, River tries not to draw attention to her gender identity. She spends as little time there as possible, taking taxis to get in and out.
When she lectures, she wears a “Pray You Catch Me” hoodie. This is a large black hoodie that covers most of her body. But in the aftermath of the online outbreak, she wasn't sure if this suffocating mask would be enough.
“I became very anxious about physical violence. It's another thing to live with daily anxiety about violence, but I felt like I was ready for it now.”
Bobrisky didn't wear a mask. She occupied as much space as she wanted in her chosen circle. This made her a queer icon, but it also made her an exception. But now it turns out that even this exceptionalism wasn't enough to protect her. She is reportedly serving her sentence in the men's section of Ikoyi Prison.
We don't know what's going on with her there. For the first time in her highly visible life, she is unable to tell us, at the mercy of a state that constantly reaffirms its queerphobia.
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