A day at leha: realizations, rants, and radical thinking

Let me just start by saying I arrived on time. Yes, again! (It’s worth mentioning because, honestly, this is rare for me.) This was a last-minute invite to the LEHA space, somewhere I’d never been before, and I’m so glad I said yes. Buckle up, because this day was full of mind-blowing realizations, a lot of learning, and a healthy dose of ranting.

The Journey to Thika

First off, Thika feels like a whole other county. That highway? Long! But I made it without getting lost, thanks to my pretty decent sense of direction. When I got there, I slipped into my "new kid" mode, sitting quietly and observing as people trickled in.

After some time, we had breakfast (a solid start), and then the sessions began. But first, dancing. Cue internal panic—I can’t dance to save my life. If anyone is offering lessons, hit me up.

Queerness: The Most African Thing

The first session dove straight into the deep stuff: the history of queerness in Africa. For anyone still claiming that "being queer is un-African," let me stop you right there. Pre-colonization, queer people were respected members of many African societies. Community was everything, and everyone played a part. There was no hierarchy dictating who "belonged" based on arbitrary factors like money or power.

Colonialism? That brought the nonsense of proving your worth to society and fitting into rigid boxes. And we’ve been battling that ever since. This session reminded me that queerness isn’t a deviation but a deep-rooted aspect of African identity.

Radical Self-Expression

One of the big takeaways for me was about radicalization. How do you challenge the status quo in your own way? Is it in how you dress, how you speak, or how you live your truth?

It’s easy to feel insignificant in a world constantly bombarding us with curated social media lives. But here’s the thing: no step is too small to make a difference. You may not cure cancer or become president (though if you do, that’s awesome), but to your friends, family, and chosen community, you matter. And that’s huge. Every choice to live authentically, no matter how small, chips away at the status quo and helps build a more inclusive world.

Lunch and Love

After lunch, I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen in ages—one of the first people who made me feel safe and loved in the queer community. That was such a highlight. Also, shoutout to Y, who decided to play with my hair and somehow kept me awake through the post-lunch slump.

Judges 19: A Deep Dive

Now, let’s talk about the session that shook me: Judges 19. If you don’t know it, Google it. Short version? It’s about a woman who was raped and killed—a harrowing, brutal story.

This led to an eye-opening discussion about how religious texts, like the Bible, have been wielded to justify harm against women and queer people. A lot of the stigma around queerness is rooted in religious teachings, but here’s the kicker: take religion out of the equation, and most people can’t even explain why they’re offended by queer love.

Fighting Back with the Bible

One speaker really blew my mind. She didn’t just critique how the Bible has been used against queer people; she flipped the script. Why should we run from the church? Why let others weaponize the Bible without challenging them?

Her argument was simple: the Bible itself doesn’t speak—people do. They interpret it through their own beliefs, fears, and biases. So instead of letting them cherry-pick verses to justify hate, why not use the same text to promote love, community, and acceptance?

This hit me hard. I left the church years ago, not because of God, but because people made it an unsafe space. But maybe it’s time to reclaim that space. As my mom always said, "No one gives you space in this world—you have to fight for it."

Closing Thoughts

By the end of the day, I was full of life, inspired, and ready to take action. LEHA gave me a reason to fight and, more importantly, a way to fight. It reminded me that love and community are louder than hate if we choose to make them so.

Would I go again? In a heartbeat. And next time, I’ll be dancing. Well… maybe. 😉