“You might not like what I am telling you about me right now but you are going to have to listen to me because babiness is listened to in this country”
“I am twenty nine. It is 11 July, 2000. I, Binyavanga Wainaina, quite honestly swear I have known I am a homosexual since I was five. I have never touched a man sexually. I have slept with three women in my life. One woman, successfully. Only once with her. It was amazing. But the next day, I was not able to.”
How does one sleep with another? How does one sleep with another, successfully?
The queer autobiography is (always) confessional. To write about one’s (sexual) life outside heteronormative matrices is to admit a certain kind of failure. One writes/speaks out of feelings of guilt. And shame. Mostly shame. It is to admit, even when one seeks to free themselves, that there is something that is unusual and unacceptable about their being. It is to say, “Look here World, I unlike most, am different and I want you to know…
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