‘Every day is dangerous’ for Ghana’s only openly transgender musician

Then, in August 2021, when lawmakers in the country’s parliament introduced a bill that would jail people who identify as transgender like Opoku, her art urgently turned to advocacy. Her music began to attract legions of new fans and formidable opponents.

“Dear Mr. Statesman, fix this country now. The people who voted for you are disappointed in you,” Opoku sings on one of her latest songs. “Kill it, kill it, kill the bill.”

The theme of the song is the “Promoting Proper Human Sexual Rights and Ghanaian Family Values ​​Act”, which, if passed, would make homosexuality, transgender or queerness an offence punishable by up to five years in prison.

As Ghana’s only openly transgender musician, Opoku, known on stage as Angel Maxine, is one of the most visible targets of proposed legislation in a country where the gay and trans community is largely closed.

“Music is the tool I advocate,” Opoku said in an interview in Accra, Ghana’s capital. “This is the only way my voice can reach politicians, presidents, homophobes and laypeople.”

Ghana has already criminalized same-sex sexual activity, in part because of British colonial-era laws, but now publicly recognizes that being gay, transgender or queer does not constitute a crime.

Opoku released a song titled “Kill the Bill” in response to the proposed legislation, shortly after another song “Wo Fie” means “in your home” in Akan, which is one of the most widely spoken languages ​​in Ghana.

“Wo Fie” tells how LGBTQ people are part of every family and calls for tolerance and respect. In the lyrics, Opoku sings that he is unapologetic.

The eldest of five children, Opoku was born in Accra on September 3, 1985, to a fashion designer mother and civil servant father.

“Everyone who saw her said, ‘Hey, you have a beautiful girl,'” recalls her 60-year-old mother, Faustina Araba Forson. “Then I would say: ‘No, it’s a boy.'”

“She likes to wear girls’ dresses and play with girls,” Fussen added. “She’s a girl trapped in a male body.”

Still, it took years for Folsom to accept the identity of his daughter. Opoku recalled that mothers and children would often go to church to hear from pastors, including controversial Nigerian preacher TB Joshua, seeking to “kick homosexuality out.”

“One day I was praying and I heard God say, ‘I made her in my own image, and I love her,'” Fussen said.

Opoku began singing during morning prayers with her family at home, and as a teenager, she followed members of a now-defunct girl group. She started playing music as a woman in 2008 while studying hotel management in Koforidua, a city north of Accra. This is a dangerous attempt. At one point, during a game, a bottle was thrown from a spectator and hit her in the head, she said.

With no labels backing her or sponsoring recording sessions, she shelved her music — whose sound blends Afropop, dancehall and the increasingly popular Afrobeats — instead switching between jobs in the hospitality industry as chef and waitress, There she faced issues such as gender error.

Even before the threat of jail time in upcoming legislation, being openly gay or transgender in Ghana is very dangerous, as those who identify or are perceived to be facing violence from strangers and their own family members. Employment discrimination and housing discrimination are common.

“Some people were forced to get married and kicked out of their homes. Some of them dropped out of school because they were no longer supported,” said the executive director of One Love Sisters in Ghana, an LGBTQ Muslim advocacy group, Friends of Opoku.

Opoku returned to the music scene in 2018, and while defiance has won her online fans at home and abroad, it has also set her apart. Last year, her home was ransacked and looted by mobs, forcing her to reduce her public appearances. Opoku wasn’t home when the mob attacked.

“They could have taken me to the police station, maybe I might have even died,” said Opoku, who now performs rarely and only in private. “I could be lynched.”

After the Opoku home is attacked, maverick musician Wanlov the Kubolor and his sister, known as Sister Deborah, help her find a place of safety and begin a professional and personal relationship. The siblings have long been seen as social contrarians in the Ghanaian music scene, appearing on both “Kill Bill” and “Wo Fie.”

“It blew me away, what she was living with every day — financially, mentally, physically,” Kubolol’s Wanlov said. “I don’t think I can survive that kind of life.”

Opoku said she also wanted to be known for music that had nothing to do with her activism. But so far, this is an unrealized ambition. A full, non-promotional mini-album of songs has yet to be released due to lack of sponsorship, she said.

For Kubolor’s Wanlov, the recent rise in Opoku’s public standing has been both joy and pain.

“It was painful because she could have bloomed earlier and because she had super talent, she could have been a world star,” he said.

The song “Wo Fie” recently went viral on TikTok outside of Ghana, and Kubolor’s Wanlov believes Opoku’s growing international profile — albeit fraught with security risks — could also be a protective factor for her.

But Opoku isn’t so sure. “Every day is dangerous for me,” she said. “I can’t walk down the street like a normal person.”

She said it was impossible to take a bus, as was going to the market. “I can’t do a lot,” she said.

The safety of her daughter is also Fussen’s top priority. “I’m worried about my daughter,” she said. “She’s a rowdy person, so she’s a target and I keep praying that God should protect her.”

If passed, the bill would criminalize positive portrayals of queer life in the media, codify the widely questioned pseudoscience of conversion therapy, and force the families and neighbors of LGBTQ people to report it to authorities.

Those arrested could avoid jail by receiving psychiatric and endocrinology treatment “to overcome their vulnerability”. The bill also provides that allies who provide LGBTQ people with any form of assistance, such as housing, could be sentenced to five to 10 years in prison.

The proposed legislation has most of the support of the country’s powerful religious leaders, politicians from the two main political parties and local media. It also has broad popular support in a 2019 survey that found 93 percent of Ghanaians disliked a country with gay neighbors.

The bill also sparked outspoken opposition from a small but influential coalition of local academics, lawyers and rights activists.

Last month, the speaker of parliament, who had previously expressed support for the legislation, said it was a priority to pass before the next election in 2024.

Partly due to the LGBTQ backlash surrounding the bill, Opoku said it was difficult to see its future in Ghana. It’s now nearly impossible for her to perform freely in public; the bill would make it legally impossible.

“I don’t see life here,” she said. “If I can’t come out in public and walk the streets and go about my day-to-day life, if I can’t find a job, how am I going to support myself? It’s not life.”

Despite the difficulties and in the face of rising hostility, she remains a firm voice for Ghana’s LGBTQ community.

She said her next song will encourage high-risk groups to sign up for the HIV prevention drug PrEP.

“I feel like it’s a responsibility,” Opoku said. “If I win, people like me will win too.”

She added: “People like me are also happier and people like me feel free.”