As a gay Igbo man, I’ve given everything to my family.
I’ve been a good brother, a good uncle, a provider, a helper, the one everyone can count on. And still, I’m told that I need children, as if all I’ve done isn’t enough.
So many queer people carry that burden.
As a result we overcompensate in our careers, in our achievements, in how much we give because we’re made to believe we have to earn our place in a world that questions our worth.
We pour into family, community, and everyone around us, trying to prove that our lives matter.
And yet, for some people, it’s still not enough. But the truth is we are enough, exactly as we are. Our legacy doesn’t need validation.
When people talk about leaving a legacy, they usually mean children or family names.
So what do you do when people say your life doesn't have any meaning because you're gay?
The Lie About Legacy
We're told that marriage, having kids, and being straight and respectable are the only ways to leave a legacy.
That’s a lie.
Legacy isn’t just blood. It’s impact. It’s memory.
Not only that, but it’s the way you change someone’s life, the laughter you leave behind, the art that outlives you, the courage you plant in someone else’s heart.
People say queer people can't have families, but we do.
We're creating a chain of care that will last longer than any last name, every time we show up for each other.
Chosen Family Is Also Inheritance
When blood relatives abandon us, we create chosen families, people who see us, support us, and endure hardships with us.
That’s legacy too.
It's possible that your real inheritance isn't land. It could be love.
Not only that, but it might be the friend you fed, the person you encouraged, or the story you told that helped someone stay alive.
Legacy Through Culture and Creativity
As queer people, our art is our record.
The fashion, the writing, the music, the TikToks, the podcasts, all of it says, We were here.
Every photo, every outfit, every sentence is resistance against erasure.
My legacy is not silence. It’s style. It’s story. Not only that, but it’s proof that we existed and thrived.
The Battle Over Memory
When queer people die, their families often hide the truth, changing our lives into something more acceptable.
Funerals become performances of denial.
That being said, our voices, recordings, and online presence will last longer than all of that.
They can’t erase us any more. Our stories are archived. Our love is documented.
Reclaiming Queer Ancestry
As an Igbo gay man, our culture teaches us to respect our ancestors.
So where are the queer ones?
How many names because they didn't fit the story, were never spoken?
We are an extension of them. We are ancestors-in-the-making.
As LGBTQIA+ people, we have a place in the spiritual history of our community.
Nobody should remember us as rumours, but as leaders who did everything they could.
Defiance and Hope
My legacy won’t be shame. My legacy won’t be silence.
I'm an Igbo man who is gay, and my story will continue to be told after I'm gone.
That’s my inheritance. That’s my power.
This is the truth I'm leaving behind, and it will never die.
Build Your Queer Legacy:
It's Your Turn
Take a moment to reflect:
What would you like your queer legacy to be?
In fifty years, when someone says your name, what three things do you want them to remember?
Do something this week that says, “I was here” post, write, gift, or love.
👉 Episode 32 – “Queer Legacy: What Will We Leave Behind?”
Available on the Igbo Queer & Unfiltered Podcast wherever you listen.