“I dreamed of representing Ghana in the Women’s Africa Cup of Nations, but I was beaten.”

“I dreamed of representing Ghana in the Women’s Africa Cup of Nations, but I was beaten.”

From the other end of the phone, the quack in her voice is palpable. The Ghanaian soccer player, who wishes to remain anonymous, remembers the night she went out to celebrate her birthday in Ashaiman, Accra.

“I decided to use the laundry room and a group of guys came up to me and completely abused me,” she says. “They thought I was a gay man.”

Margot (not her real name) once dreamed of representing her country in the Women’s Africa Cup of Nations (Wafcon), but ended up in hospital instead. As an Athlete with Differences in Sexual Development (DSD), she remains too scared to reveal her identity.

Morocco will present the 14th edition of Wafcon, starting on July 2nd. But while the world community celebrates pride month, and many athletes in the north proudly share their stories of their outcome, sportswomen in Africa’s LGBTQ community life are very different.

“When my national team and club found out I was intersex, I was dropped and fell into depression,” says Margot. “It was tough. I do not want to do the corrective surgery as I know the implications it can cause. “All I want is to be myself and play the game I like, but Ghana is not friendly with me.”

Ghana is about to pass a law banning contact with LGBTQ people, a bill that has faced global opposition. Many African countries inherited oppressive anti-gay laws from colonial times; in recent years, however, some – such as Mozambique and Botswana – have begun to remove them.

But in Ghana, it is said that the presence of a right-wing, US-based Christian group that advocates anti-abortion laws and preaches against same-sex marriage has gained momentum around the anti-LGBTQ bill.

‘The account is awful’

If accepted, people who identify as LGBTQ could be sentenced to 10 years in prison, “conversion therapy” would be promoted, and parents would be able to impose “corrective surgery” on DSD children.

“The bill is terrible,” said Ritalucia, a goalkeeper whose dreams of going professional broke out when she came out as a pansexual. “It is bad for the legislators to ignore everything else in the country to prosecute citizens who have done nothing wrong.”

The journey of women fighting for the right to live openly as part of the LGBTQ community has many parallels with the struggle for women to practice sports in Africa. In 1991, women’s football confirmed its newfound global status with a World Cup in China, but before that – in Nigeria – was the first Wafcon, to determine who would represent the continent at the new competition.

The announcement sparked a flurry of interest, but there was a deep-rooted prejudice against girls playing the game. In African culture, girls who play football remain alien – and the outage can be toxic.

So it still looks incredible that a record 55,000 fans packed the Lagos National Stadium to cheer on Nigeria against Ghana in 1991. Nigeria won and beat Cameroon in the final, which qualified to represent the continent at the World Cup in China. the same year.

Portia Modise grew up in South Africa and dreamed of life as a professional soccer player. But in the 80s, being gay was punishable by jail time. Nowadays, South Africa recognizes queer rights by law. But “corrective” rape and abuse are still common. In 2008, Modise’s national teammate Eudy Simelane was killed for being a lesbian. She was abducted, gang-raped, beaten and stabbed 25 times in the face, chest and legs.

By chance, and because of her talent, Modise was appointed captain of the Bayana Bayana in 2004. For the next decade, she fought for the rights of foreign women in football – a journey she outlined in her book, From Portia Modise With Love. “In the national team we were not allowed to be openly gay,” she says now. “The federation has told us not to reveal our peculiarities to the public, but rather to lie that we have boyfriends.”

Wafcon kicks off on July 2, but players from the LGBTQ community with the potential to shine have been – largely – ruled out. Others, in various national teams, carry the burden of their secrets. It’s a heartbreaking price to pay to be “different”.