In 2013, I embarked on a life-changing journey alongside the Nest Collective. Motivated by a desire to spotlight the narratives that paint the queer experience in Kenya (under siege at the time due to deliberations in nearby Uganda, who were debating the first edition of their “Kill the Gays” bill, a version of which has since passed), we travelled across the country to collect and archive stories from Kenya’s LGBTQ+ community. We named this project, Stories of Our Lives.

That year—and in a follow-up set of visits in 2018—we had conversations with LGBTQ+ folk across the country, uncovering stories that were illuminating, sensual, heartrending and everything in between. It soon became clear to us that these narratives could come alive in another medium that was as vivid as the stories we’d been told. Thus, the idea of transforming selected stories into a collection of short films was born. With the team, we wrote scripts that were true to the experiences shared with us and began the process of filmmaking with the support of UHAI-EASHRI, Africa's first indigenous activist fund for sex workers and sexual and gender minorities.

The journey wasn't without its challenges—we had to keep the subject matter of the films private as we worked, and generally worried that we were doing something that we could get in all kinds of trouble for. We filmed over eight months with a tight-knit crew formed of the collective members, often wearing multiple hats, and a cast who took to the material with gusto and sensitivity. The outcome? An anthology film of five stories: a mosaic that provides an intimate glimpse into some aspects of queer life in Kenya. Stories of Our Lives was selected to have its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2014, thanks to the support of Big World Cinema and Rasha Salti, to whom I am eternally grateful.

In the years since, the KFCB went on to ban other LGBT-related films, such as Wanuri Kahiu’s Rafiki (2018) and Peter Murimi’s I Am Samuel (2020). These bans underscore a troubling trend that isn’t restricted to Kenya: a resistance to acknowledging and understanding diverse narratives, and using bans to sideline the very existence of real people. It's not just about films; it's about silencing voices, curbing creativity, and stifling dialogues that challenge societal norms.

To date, Stories of Our Lives has never screened publicly in Kenya.

Notwithstanding the ban in Kenya, the film has gone on to screen in venues across the world, and won a lovely collection of awards along the way—for which I am super grateful! Creating "Stories of Our Lives" was a transformative experience for me, both as an artist and as a queer person. Engaging with such personal narratives helped widen my understanding of my country, and where our queer bodies sit in society and history. The drama that followed the release of the film, the private and public losses that have come with being ‘out, and the State’s response to unequivocally ban the film and others like it reinforced my interest in and commitment to using the practice of narrative, image and sound making to highlight both the injustices and freedoms that exist in this world.

The broader LGBTQ+ landscape in Kenya and East Africa remains challenging. While there are pockets of resistance, acceptance and support, challenges persist. Anti-LGBTQ attitudes both on the continent and across the globe have hardened in recent years, in part due to campaigning by Western evangelical church groups, right-wing think tanks and private foundations. As well as religious campaigning, Africa's anti-LGBTQ attitudes also have strong roots in the colonial era, including an anti-sodomy section of Britain's penal code.

In 2023, Uganda finally passed an updated version of the anti-LGBT legislation that had spurred us to begin this project back in 2013. The law is dubbed one of the world's toughest anti-LGBTQ laws, including the death penalty for "aggravated homosexuality", and bringing to 33 the number of African countries that have laws that criminalise same-sex sexual activity such as Nigeria and Ghana. The move has also encouraged lawmakers here in Kenya, neighbouring Tanzania and other countries to seek similar measures.

Societal norms, political interests, and religious beliefs intersect here in difficult ways, creating a dense web of opposition to LGBTQ+ rights. However, it's crucial to note the resilience of the community and its allies. Community movements, awareness campaigns, and brave individuals continue to fight for change. The hope is that time, love and empathy will pave the way for a more inclusive society.

I’m very proud of this film! I remain hopeful that, someday, our Kenyan audience will get to experience the stories we wove together with the team. Until then, I hope it continues to do the rounds elsewhere, to inspire and challenge viewers to think deeper about identity and belonging.

My forever-thanks go to, without whom this film wouldn’t exist:

Olwenya Maina (1988-2022), for the gift of a tender performance in Athman
Steven Markovitz and the Big World Cinema team
Rasha Salti and the TIFF14 team
The Nest Collective, and those beautiful Kenyan souls who shared such personal truths with us for the project, keep your head up.