APA 2025: Building Queer Futures from Resistance to Sustainability

When I walked into APA 2025, I knew immediately that it wasn’t just another conference. It was my second time attending, and I had been looking forward to the conversations long before my flight out of Lagos was even booked.

In 2024, at my first APA, I encountered a gathering that felt like what one would expect from a casual meeting at the family house. It was raw, messy, loud, opinionated, and that was exactly what made it real.

The discussions we had exposed the fault lines and brilliance of the Nigerian queer NGO space. I learned quickly that many of the people I admired from afar were not superhuman, but ordinary individuals showing up despite fear, intimidation, and limited resources.

That realization was grounding. I left APA 2024 with a commitment to stop idolizing heroes from afar and instead contribute my own quota to the collective work of community.

This year was different in a way that words can’t fully describe. There was a sense of urgency this time around. The gathering expanded beyond just survival and slogans it was a sharp turn towards the future.

Our sessions centered on strategy, sustainability, succession planning, healthy leadership, inclusion, and continuity. These were terms I also hear every week in business school, but it was powerful to see them grounded in queer activism. Even nonprofits were beginning to rewire their thinking around continuity and long-term impact.

Succession planning, in particular, came up multiple times. It struck me when some directors and leaders confessed to the anxiety they carry about whether their legacies will hold, especially when younger advocates are at the helm of affairs.

It was a valid concern. While change is constant, it’s also important to know that the values and practices they’ve built over the years will survive the test of time. They needed assurance that fragmentation would not undo all their sacrifices and perhaps this made them hesitant to let younger people in easily.

Their honesty resonated deeply with me. The truth is, in our space where we’re always looking over our shoulders in fear for our safety leadership cannot be just about passing the baton. We have to go a step further to create solid systems, so we can trust that what we’ve built together won’t be erased over time.

Leadership and Conscious Decision-Making

On the issue of conscious leadership, we had the most striking session with voices like Michael Akanji, who is a Sexual Health and Rights Advocate with a focus on LGBTQI issues and HIV/AIDS, Akudo Oguaghamba, who is an activist, educator, and the founder and executive director of Women’s Health and Equal Rights (WHER), and Valor Basi, another seasoned activist in the Nigerian space. They implored us to reimagine leadership not as endless crisis response, but as a conscious, value-driven practice.

They acknowledged that when fighting for the rights of many, it’s easy to forget to center the voices of the very people we are fighting for. Conscious leadership is the ability to recognize when you are falling into this pattern and adjust effectively. Leadership is also about asking the hard questions: Whose needs are we prioritizing? Whose voices are missing from decision-making spaces?

That’s why dignity emerged as such a recurring theme at APA. In our fight for dignity, we must be careful not to undermine the very principles we are trying to protect—people’s right to choice and their claim to basic human decency. Dignity is not only about survival; it is about ensuring that every person can live fully and freely. It encompasses the fundamental freedoms we all deserve: the freedom of speech, the freedom of conscience and thought, and the right to live authentically without fear or compromise.

Generational Healing

One of the hardest, most personal conversations was on Intergenerational Leadership: Healing the Unspoken. In Nigeria, we often say, “It takes a village to raise a child.” But I grew up Yoruba, and that “village” often came with heavy surveillance, abuse and little respect for individuality. It left me deeply distrustful of older people, even as I grew older myself.

At APA, these tensions surfaced between older and younger lesbians in Nigeria. Older activists stressed patience and sacrifice, while younger ones demanded urgency. They were eager to get into the field, to take to the streets with banners and bold chants, to enter boardrooms and make decisions, and to drive advocacy with the fierce energy they believe will bring results.

As we went on and on about this subject matter, someone in the audience asked whether the conversation had become redundant, since it seems to surface at every gathering. For a moment, I saw her point. But sitting in that tension, it became clear to me that the conversation wasn’t redundant it was necessary. Unspoken wounds do not disappear in silence; they fester. We need to talk, to hear each other’s minds, to affirm our unity of purpose, and to cultivate the discipline to build mediation tools that help us resolve our internal issues before they stall progress.

As one participant put it: generational healing may not be the most urgent issue compared to criminalization, violence, or healthcare, but it is essential infrastructure for the movement. Like fixing cracks in a house, it strengthens the foundation for everything else we hope to build.

This connects directly to some of the work we are trying to do at WITI: bridging the gap between generations by building a strong mentorship pipeline. By working closely together, older and younger activists can learn from each other and build understanding in a way that allows us to innovate without discarding the wisdom of those who came before, while also ensuring that older leaders don’t hold on so tightly that growth and continuity become impossible.

Economic Power and New Platforms

Another recurring thread was boldness. “No More Closet, No More Hiding” wasn’t just a slogan; it was a call to courage, unity, and visibility. Speakers challenged us to resist not only physical oppression but also economic exclusion.

Keynote speaker Hilary Ogbonna, Senior Human Rights Adviser to the NHRC, reminded us that resistance must be backed by legal and institutional engagement. Other panelists like Pally Marie, a psychologist at the Global Women’s Health Rights Initiative (GWHREI), and Deborah Iroegbu, Executive Director of the Women in Innovation and Tech Initiative (WITI)highlighted the importance of pairing advocacy with tangible empowerment. Even global institutions like the World Bank were mentioned, with speakers pointing to existing youth-focused funding programs in Nigeria for skills, employment, and empowerment. Yet these opportunities often remain invisible to everyday queer youth. I realized it was not enough to tell people that “resources exist.” Given the information asymmetry in this part of the world, it is important to equip queer youths with the tools to identify these funds and provide the guidance needed to make them meaningful.

Another eye-opening contribution came from Michael Ighodaro, Executive Director of Global Black Gay Men Connect. He reminded us that movements cannot thrive on passion alone we need systems of care, funding, and leadership that enable us to grow beyond crisis response.

Even informally, this theme of economic empowerment kept resurfacing. One evening, while a group of lesbians and nonbinary folks were hanging out in the lounge, we found ourselves discussing family planning, surrogacy, and thanks to Pally financial planning. We laughed about apps like PiggyVest and Cowrywise, but beneath the laughter was a serious point: young queer people need to take investment and ownership seriously if we are ever going to break cycles of dependence.

Modern platforms like TikTok, YouTube, and podcasts also received a lot of attention. Beyond the fact that young people can monetize these platforms and make a living from them, we also need digital hubs where queer Africans can tell our own stories, amplify our voices, and fight misinformation because one viral falsehood can undo weeks of organizing. Community communication networks are no longer optional; they are a matter of survival.

Joy as Resistance

“Of course, APA wasn’t only about heavy dialogue. The organizers created space for joy. On the third day, we had sports and games a reminder that resistance also needs laughter and play. And on the final night, the black-tie gala, Echoes of Colors, was stunning. The lights, the music, the beauty of people gathered together it was celebration as strategy, joy as resistance.

I didn’t even realize when I found myself twerking and dancing as the DJ played on.

Why APA Matters

APA 2025 wasn’t perfect. It was raw, tense at times, but layered and real. It didn’t try to paper over our cracks. Instead, it forced us to face them, honor the resilience, and imagine the rainbow-colored futures we’re daring to build.

For me, the biggest takeaway was this: survival is not enough. We deserve sustainability, joy, and dignity.

At WITI, that means:

* Building mentorship pipelines across generations.

* Pairing advocacy with mental health and safe spaces.

* Expanding economic empowerment for women- and queer-owned businesses.

* Taking leadership seriously not waiting for permission, but filling spaces with courage.

The question isn’t whether APA matters we all know that it does. The question is: How do each of us, in our corners of community, take the seeds planted here and grow them into action?

As I boarded my flight back to Lagos, I knew this wasn’t the end of a conference it was the beginning of a responsibility