For LGBTQ+ people growing up in Nigeria, the dangers of being out and visible are instilled in all of us. When I ask Logan February, a 20-year-old genderqueer poetry prodigy who is bravely out and proud, why they choose to be visible, their answer confirms a shift I’ve noticed in the new generation of queer people here. “Existing invisibly – that’s hardly an existence,” they tell me. “I understand why you’re asking why I exist visibly, but you might as well be asking me why I exist at all. It’s immature, unintelligent, and deeply unfair in the context of human ethics, to put certain people in the forced liminality of here-but-not-quite-here.” The sentiment is one shared by the vast majority of our generation of queer Nigerians, a rejection of anonymity and invisibility as the only valid option for us. While in the past, AGAs (anonymous gay accounts) was the only way to exist safely, more recently they have been ditched entirely, with the growing community choosing to put a face to our voice and be visible regardless of the consequences. This revolution has been accelerated by the internet and social media – both providing platforms that amplify the voices of members of marginalised communities and eliminate the need to physically meet to foster the community and incite change. Market March is an example of this; a nationwide protest attempting to put an end to women being groped by men in Nigerian markets – born out of tweets by feminist activist Damilola Marcus.