We spoke to queer Nigerian gamers about the identities they hide online

Voice chat can mean teamwork, coordination, and banter, but for many of the queer Nigerian gamers we spoke to, the mic is a risk assessment tool.

An arm holds up a rainbow flag in the sky.
Photo by Giusy Iaria / Unsplash

[Editor's note: All of the names in this story have been changed to protect the identity of the sources.]

The very first unwritten rule I discovered as a straight Nigerian gamer speaking with queer Nigerian gamers was: Don't let them hear, don't let them see, and don't let them in.

In most multiplayer game spaces, voice chat represents teamwork, coordination, and banter. But for many of the queer Nigerian gamers I spoke to, the mic is a risk assessment tool. You weigh accent, pitch, cadence. You first of all open your ears wide and thereafter decide whether speaking will expose you to ridicule, suspicion, or even worse. You stay mute because survival has schooled you on when to disappear.

Online gaming, in the literal sense, provides routes to new worlds, new identities, and new ways to be. However, those who have the luxury of freedom have their geographical location to thank. In Nigeria, virtual identities must be managed carefully as there could be repercussions.

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