Azad (Arabic name which means freedom) is a 21 year old boy who lives in Dakar. Through a powerful mix of images of prayers in a mosque and his naked body, Azan gives an insight of what is it like to be gay in a society where homosexuality is a crime.

Gay life in Senegal

Homosexuality continues to be a dangerous topic in Senegal. There, as in much of the African continent, heteronormative behavior is enforced with violence.

Saint-Louis, Senegal. Image credit T.K. Naliaka via Wikimedia Commons.

Homosexuality continues to be a dangerous topic in Senegal. There, as in much of the African continent, heteronormative behavior is enforced with violence. In his new novel,  (Pure Men), published in French in a collaboration between French and Senegalese publishers, Mohamed Mbougar Sarr launches an attack on these prevailing mores with rare audacity. The protagonist is a young professor, Ndéné Gueye, whose feelings of disgust at a video of gruesome homophobic violence cause him to rebel against the hypocrisy of his compatriots. Someone’s cellphone has captured a grisly postmortem lynching of a suspected gay man buried in the Muslim cemetery. A furious crowd digs up and desecrates his corpse. Moved by horror and pity, Ndéné searches for the victim’s identity, only to be accused of homosexuality himself.

The reader discovers with Ndéné how Senegalese society’s pious rebukes of so-called western debauchery only serve to mask its own neuroses. Postcolonial resentments and barely repressed sexual frustrations fester not only among the urban masses, but among the clerical class of Muslim religious leaders or marabouts. The result: a frightening need to blame a scapegoat.

Perhaps surprisingly, the novel does not seem to pander to a western audience so much as it tries to unsettle a Senegalese one—the kind of reader who remembers the real “moral panic” of 2008-10 that shook Dakar and the whole country. The plot unfolds in those years, when a series of scandals linked to accusations of homosexuality exploded in the national media. Amid the ensuing backlash, hastily filmed scenes of retaliatory exhumations circulated on social media and on DVDs in the market. After chronicling some of these real-life incidents, the novel adds, in a sad wink to the reader, a fictitious conclusion to the scandals by recounting the publication of a “pro-gay” novel whose author commits suicide.

Indeed, the author recognizes the danger he is courting by speaking so openly on this topic, even 10 years after the frenzy last hit fever pitch: “Let them cover me in spit,” declares the narrator, “let them rip me to shreds with their teeth, let them break my bones and drag me naked through the streets, let them pour insults on me and my deceased mother, […] let them lynch me and abandon my body to the elements, guts to the sky, like rotting carrion” (my translation). To be clear, it is not the suspect found guilty of sodomy who is exposed to this grotesque fate, but the person who is merely . The devastating effects of accusation and rumor are, far more than the lurid details of sexual intimacy—which are not absent in the text—the novel’s main focus.

There is no doubt that this book is an indictment of Senegalese homophobia. Yet, its attention to the specificities of local context does not allow us to lump it in or dismiss it as pro-western or pro-LGBT hype. Indeed, its attention to nuance is so careful that it sometimes borders on pedantic. Some readers will see through the didactic tone of passages, which juxtapose opposing points of view on homosexuality via dialogues between characters. Progressive voices (Rama and Angela) oppose reactionary ones (imams, students), as well as relatively lenient ones, which seek to tolerate the existence of , which can refer to cross-dressing and/or any sexual orientation outside of normative heterosexuality. “But all that technical language is useless in this country” (my translation).

By combining documentary and fictional modes, this approach calls the reader to move past simple binaries like good vs. bad or human rights vs. fanaticism. The novel refuses to rehash the slogans of any particular orthodoxy, including the international LGBT agenda. The critique of the excesses of Senegalese collective paranoia never goes so far as to demand decriminalization of gay sex, let alone a pride parade or marriage equality on African soil. The text even invites us to see certain rationality behind the insanity of public lynchings: “All this might seem cruel, inhuman, but there is nothing more human,” explains the narrator’s father, an imam. “To remove those who offend, with violence if necessary—nothing is more human than that” (my translation). Alongside its call for Senegalese hearts to become more tolerant, this book is also a call for all readers to understand that things are complicated. The homophobe, like the homosexual, is still human, after all.

In sum, the composure with which Sarr has dared raise his voice in this novel is remarkable. While a few researchers and NGOs have published specialized studies of homosexuality in Senegal, it is a rare artist who is willing to shock the wider public’s mores with such force. Readers might remember the scandal caused by the film  (“our boat,” a Wolof nickname for the nation), it will certainly make waves.

Gay life in Senegal

Gay Privatzimmer und Unterkünfte in Dakar

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Gay Privatzimmer und Unterkünfte in Dakar

Straight in Dakar, gay in Paris

Musa grew up in Dakar, where his parents lived. They were Wolof, and from an even more elite minority within the Wolof: they were property developers. His parents were moneyed, socially well positioned and Muslim. To have un pédé [a faggot] for a son would be a catastrophic disgrace. Even his mother didn’t know, not even in that “not knowing but knowing” way mothers of gay children acquire. Besides, it was against the law in Senegal.

He went to a privileged boys-only school, but his childhood was lonely. He learned to hide his feelings. He lived in terror of exposure.

“I felt I had a white man’s disease,” he explained. It was deeply wrong, woundingly shameful. And as everyone knows, there are no local cures for white men’s diseases. Panic-stricken, Musa started having girlfriends.

But the fantasies about men returned. He couldn’t help feeling aroused, rubbing shoulders at sports, at football in the changing rooms, noticing handsome strangers passing on the street, catching an eye here and there.

He fell quietly in love with one of his uncles. He had erotic dreams at night.

Yet trying to actually picture himself physically with another boy was awkward. He couldn’t figure out how exactly men could copulate. Thinking about it frightened him. He put the idea away. Perhaps he was cured.

After schooling, he went to Paris to complete his economic studies, attending Sorbonne Nouvelle University. One day, a classmate, a white French boy, made his sexuality public by giving a male friend a lingering, exhibitionist kiss in front of everyone in the canteen. At first Musa shunned him, then he became curious. He furtively arranged to meet the boy for a drink. That night turned out to be the first time.

Soon, Musa was having a lot of sex with men. He met all kinds of people. Today, he knows scores of gay people, also through his business, which brings him to Paris regularly.

His parents export African cloth to France. They keep a stall at the Porte de Clignancourt market. He lives close to it, in the 18th arrondissement, a colourful and cosmopolitan area that includes Pigalle’s Moulin Rouge and the red-light district.

I asked Musa if he has met other gay black Africans while in Paris. He said he has indeed, and it does make him feel better about himself. Many of them have opted for a completely gay lifestyle and are what people call “coconut queens”. Some of the less educated even use Dax hair pomade, and he knows of at least two men who use Tenovate cream for skin lightening, though they claim it is to hide blemishes.

Musa’s life in Paris is irreconcilable with how he sees himself when living in Dakar. He knows of one or two closeted cafés in his home city where homosexual men go but, he said, he’d never think of setting foot in such dens. He is not gay, he is “, you understand?” A man who has sex with men. Gay is some white thing; it isn’t even particularly French. I got the impression he slightly looks down on “gays”.

We had finished our falafel. I hoped this wasn’t goodbye. “You know,” he said, “I have never told my story before. Not like that, from how I came here.”

I asked him if he wanted to meet up again that night; we could go to one of the big clubs on the Champs-Elysées – my treat. “Only if I can fuck you proper, .” He chuckled wickedly.

In Dakar, he is straight; in Paris, he is gay. In both worlds, I suspect he is as yet unfulfilled. As a successful, erudite young man with international connections, he is immune from family suspicion.

I wondered, silently, if this double life fragmented his personality – made him Jekyll and Hyde. Is his straight life in Dakar more than an elaborate deception? Could it really in fairness be described as a lie? Or is it simply we who are confused?

As we left the restaurant, he said: “You know, I am thinking of going into politics.”

His family is well connected, and he has a good education with a university degree. Doubtless he even knows some political people in Paris.

“But that means public life. Media scrutiny,” I pointed out. “And enemies without principles.”

“You know, you should come to Dakar, to my wedding. It is next month.”

Straight in Dakar, gay in Paris

Canadian PM Trudeau raises gay rights with Senegal leader

DAKAR, Senegal (AP) — Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau raised Senegal’s criminalization of homosexuality during his visit to the West African nation on Wednesday, but Senegal’s leader told…

Canadian PM Trudeau raises gay rights with Senegal leader

Dakar: The Fine Line Between Gay and Homo

Sweeping through the Senegalese press these days is one of those periodic outbreaks of hysterical denunciation that social scientists call a moral panic. Everyone, it seems, is writing alarmed screeds about the fashionable clothing being affected by Dakar youth, which seems to be a stylish bricolage of hipster and African-American fashions. It is clearly a homosexual plot, most writers conclude. Anna Louise Sarr here, writing in Sud, does not differ in the conclusions, but she takes a deeper dive than most, trying to hear, through the generation-gapped buzzing in her ears, the actual voices of Dakar’s young trendsters. What she hears seems to be a true counterculture: youths being told, and even believing, that what they are wearing and listening to and doing is immoral, and doing it anyway.

Tchekelma, pinw, bodys in v-neck or crewneck, bright, floral colors: all part of a style that covers up the masculinity of young men while it exposes their bad character. We are in the era of effeminate men.

Young people never stop surprising us with the way they plagiarize their clothing styles. They plunge into unisex fashions that play on mingling and contrast. Afro haircuts, colorful bodys [tanktops], skinny jeans, ankle boots…a look that makes them appear more woman than man. But so what, as long as they are ‘in.’ Your reporter talked to some of them, to try to understand what motivates them, and to see what they know about how and by whom these fashions are transmitted.

And listening to them, it turns out that these young people are aware of how much their clothing choices are disliked, they understand the impact of their androgynous appearance, they know what they are bringing down on themselves by wearing certain outfits in religious contexts.

Mohameth NGom, 17, will buy anything fashionable, and he is just fine with that. Leaning against the wall of a house in Dieuppeul, he calmly poaches the WiFi, saying with assurance that yes, “I wear the pinw[skinny, short pants tight at the ankles]”, the “check down”[saggy jeans]and the “body.” Doubtless, he is trying to connect with his generation, with his moment in time; he is all plugged into fashion, even at the risk of electrocuting himself. Dressed in khaki shorts and a blue tanktop that sticks to his body like a second skin, he is in the spirit of the times; young men like him, with their androgynous dressing style, are legion. What seems to matter to them is being identified with the crowd, with seeming “in.”

As for parental control, Mohameth is unconcerned. “My father grumbles about my get-ups, but he does not seem angry with his comments, just makes them in passing,” Mohameth says. Well aware of the not-exactly-respectable origins of these fashions, he nevertheless insists that they do not tarnish his image in the slightest, since everyone is doing it. It is the Senegalese ‘grawoul’ (it’s no big deal): just another form of the laxness by which we legitimate unacceptable conduct by consent of the majority.

“I know it is the homos who wear pinw,” he says, “but I am not afraid people will accuse me of being a homo, because I am not. And yeah, I know it was American convicts who started the check down fashion because they walk around without belts. But nowadays, everybody dresses like that; it’s not just the homos who dress like that. Being fashionable doesn’t mean believing in the ideas of the homos or the convicts. It’s just about being like everybody else,” he claims.

The danger that hangs over this oblivious “boy town” is that he himself is sending out non-verbal signals suggesting he is something he is not. He is presenting himself to the homosexual community as one of their own: without realizing it, he is transmitting by way of the clothes he wears, a code that some might misinterpret. And so one fears the worst: his actions could trigger reactions whose seriousness could surprise him, and he could find himself caught all at once in a vicious circle!

Cheikh Sadibou Diop [an opposition political figure]believes that the clothing styles affected by young people is neither a matter of chance or naivety; at times it actually reflects their sexual inclinations. And as incredible as it may seem, their peers take heed, trade in accusations. “The youth know the origin of pinw, and when you are in your circle of friends, your buddies make fun of you: ‘You got caught boy! Fegn ga!’ (you’re a fag!) “This look is evil,” Cheikh insists. “The youth speak truth to each other. But nevertheless there are those who dress like this, to fit in or out of ignorance. They imitate for fun. Youth must dress properly to be presentable. People judge you from afar based on your look and pigeonhole you even before getting to know you. When you dress well, people respect you, you make a favorable first impression.”

The opinions of others on their clothing eccentricities do not bother the youth, unless those opinions are accompanied by repressive measures. Between the stick of suppression and the carrot of useless verbiage, they frequently surf-and sometimes just dive and accelerate-into the forbidden. As long as they confine themselves to simple remarks, the pack of public opinion can bark as loud as it likes; the caravan of mannequins will just keep marching by. But faced with firmness, they reconsider their Boule Fale [Bugger Off] attitude; they take a step back, seriously change their tune, and basically punt the ball to get out of trouble. The jalabe and the ganila, spare clothes that will be seen very positively by the notables of the mosque, are right there within reach. On Fridays, you put on your best clothes, do the ritual washing, and head to the mosque. At the mosque, there is no way to escape tradition, you must simply drop the boy town look to save your soul! These youth would never dare draw the fiery stares and the torrent of contempt that would fall on a black sheep. If they did, they would pay the price for all the intergenerational rancor in this clothing dialogue of the deaf. So it would be out of the question to stir up such controversy there.

For Mohameth, it comes down to a question of respect. “Dressing stylishly to go to the mosque would not be proper, or respectful to the grownups you find there,” he admits at last, laughing at himself. As for the two pals Boubacar and Samba, who are getting a breath of fresh air in front of their house in Skerle, they say [wearing such outfits]would bring down the rage of one and all, by so disturbing the concentration of their elders.

So if these youngsters are aware that certain outfits are appropriate for certain situations, their style of dressing is clearly on purpose, “ma téy” as they would say in their lax jargon. As plugged in as they are to fashion, Boubacar and Samba nevertheless make some responsible choices when faced with this vast arsenal. ““We don’t wear the skintight “pinw.” It’s not nice, or decent. When you wear it “dagnou lay deukkeul foo deukkoul” (you get pigeonholed). We don’t feel comfortable in that get-up.” It is clear that these youngsters perceive the close link between the appearance of a clothing style and the deeper and more hidden reality of the sexed social being (man, woman, homosexual).

Their own parents pay attention to how they dress and do not hesitate to comment. “They tell us it is not decent at all, especially when we put on “pacth” (this new word in Wolof, that refers to shorts, alluding to the shortening of the length of the trousers; the verb “khadj” means to divide); they find them short. We pay attention to our parents when we dress, because they judge us by our look.” Shorts styles have not habitually caused ethical problems amongst the young, but this year’s summer fashion has placed them under the spotlight for all age groups, thanks to the summer heat.

In the midst of all this, some parents have fortunately remained unmovable. Faithful sentries, they camp out in front of their home’s door, examining everyone, and send back the lame ducks before these teenagers can cross the threshold. To avoid these untimely and embarrassing, and occasionally humiliating, summonses, the more pragmatic youth engage in preventive actions: “Da gnouy soralé wakh yi” (we follow their commentaries), the two pals confess to us. In dressing, they take the lead so as to avoid the sidelong glances and the derogatory remarks.Sellers of fashion clothing: doing good business whatever the cost

They are the prime movers of the apparel business, through whom all clothing distribution flows: importers bring in the whole range of fashion items of every style from around the world. And for them, nothing is off-limits. Morals be damned, business is business!

In Sandaga, out in the market stalls and inside the Touba Sandaga shopping center, the latest mens’ fashions are spread out before us. But you have to double-check to realize that they are indeed men’s fashion articles. Invariable confirmation from the sellers, accompanied by an impish smile. «Lii moo khew ci été bi» (‘it’s the fashion this summer’), says Diouma Diack, apparently finding my flustered expression amusing. Her stand, which resembles Ali Baba’s cave, sells men’s clothing. She offers numerous brands: Lion’s Head, Versace, Buscemi buckles… but what is surprising are the unexpected colors and the odd patterns. Patent leather shoes adorned with butterflies or flowers. Shirts printed with checkered patterns, in shades of pink, orange, green and blue. Colors that are as showy as they are garish, the polar opposite of masculine discretion. And to pile on the flashiness, leather hats, in all colors, caps made out of faded denim and rhinestones, and big tinted sunglasses. Jeans are always there, whether in a classic or a “pinw” style. Made of lighter material to face the summer heat. The trouser in light khaki is also hip. Shorts now called “Tchëckël ma,” Bodys with a V-neck or a crew neck, skintight t-shirts…and to really buckle the buckle: assorted belts in the same style.

If merchants here want to sell their wares, they have to defer to their customers’ tastes-even if that means selling the kind of clothing they would never consider wearing themselves.

The vendors admit they dislike “pinw” and this fashion that makes boys look like girls. Among them is Moussa Ndiaye, who gets his supplies from Luxemburg. Before making the trip, he takes the young people’s orders. “I don’t recommend skinny clothing to anyone. Men should dress like men and women should dress as women,” he says. But as for the contradiction between his words and his actions: that’s business! For Moussa, though, music, obscene dancing, and the new wrestling fad all contribute to corrupting youthful morals. According to him, it is time the authorities shoulder their responsibilities in all this.

Only two vendors out of our sample of ten categorically refuse to sell or import clothes that distort men’s looks: lonely partisans of proper and decent clothing. One is Abdou Sène: A retail dealer in his fifties, he gets his stock from wholesaler colleagues. But his conscious choice for decent menswear is not without consequences. His stand is not well stocked and when we ask to see something from a fine-fashion collection, he quickly points to the neighboring stand. “I don’t sell that type of thing,” he says, shortly. “I do not wear those get-ups, and I do not offer them to my customers. People who shop with me are responsible men who dress appropriately,” he adds. It goes without saying that he loses a lot of business this way. But that is the price Abdou has to pay by swimming against the currents of fashion. He is willing to offer trendy items to his customers, provided they are decent and respectable. But how long will he last in this competitive environment, where the customer is king, and knowing the young are the main customers here?

Another sacrificial lamb: Karim Sylla. Younger and with a more laid-back look, in his forties, he runs a shop in the Touba Sandaga shopping center. His merchandise is diversified, but his stock does not sell quickly. It comes from China for the most part. He refuses to import indecent fashions, thus reducing his client base. “In this store, I have no visibility,” he complains. “I do not know the internet sites that do e-commerce. My Facebook page does not get a lot of views. Only one person has come to the store after reading my blog. The others spend their time giving me likes rather than sales.” To solve his problem, Karim would have liked to learn about e-commerce websites for a greater visibility of his merchandise.

His competitors who are “in” do not need publicity to get rid of their stock. Lamine Diouf, a nearby merchant, simply sends some text messages and his customers come running for the new delivery. On average, the containers arrive every 40 days. What kind of fashion lines does he stock? He pays attention to what the hippest young people are wearing, but tries to avoid importing played-out styles that are already omnipresent around Senegal.

The situation cries out for the authorities to step in and shoulder their responsibilities to be certain-but also demand action from those who are currently profiting from it. Hugues, a finance student from Gabon whom I met at a soccer field in Dieuppeul, offered this thought: “If we want young people to stop wearing pinw, extravagant colors, and skin-tight bodys, then the merchants have to take a more educational, as opposed to purely profit-oriented role–and parents and teachers will have to take heed of the appearances of these young people,” he said. Finally, he called on celebrities to behave responsibly instead of perverting the youth.

Anna Louise Sarr Translated from French by International Boulevard

Dakar (Senegal) cruising map with gay areas and spots where to practice cruising and to have casual NSA encounters

If you are gay and you want to practise cruising and to have casual NSA encounters in public places in Dakar in an anonymous way, here you can find spots such as beaches, parks, forests and other spaces next to urban areas, as well as every kind of public toilets and rest areas of highways where you can practise cruising in Dakar, Senegal.

Below we show a Dakar cruising map with all cruising areas and spots that shared our gay community. Click on the map markers for details of each spot.

In the tab for each zone you will find a location map with directions to the place: driving, walking, public transport or bike. You can vote the area and leave a comment for the rest of the community guys know your opinion, and if you want people to know you’re in the area, do not hesitate to check in.


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Senegal : Dakar

Fridae’s free Dakar gay personals help you meet other Dakar gay men and Dakar lesbian women. If you’re from Dakar, find and make new gay and lesbian friends in Dakar with Fridae. The next friend you make could become your special someone. For those visiting or planning a visit to Dakar, you will find that gays and lesbians in Dakar are one of the friendliest people in the world. So chat with other gay and lesbians around Dakar. So start browsing around below.


Sénégal Rencontres est le premier site au Sénégal des rencontres. Grâce à Séné faite connaissance facilement avec une femme sénégalaise ou rencontrez aisément un homme sénégalais au Sénégal ou à l’étranger.

Au Sénégal, les rencontres se font de plus en plus sur le net grâce aux sites de rencontres en ligne, sites qui peuvent être gratuits ou bien payants, même si draguer pour faire connaissance se fait toujours dans le cadre des sorties sénégalaises .

Au Sénégal, un site de rencontre est par définition une plateforme en ligne qui met en contact une femme sénégalaise et un homme sénégalais qui sont à la recherche d’une relation à court ou long terme.

Au Sénégal, un site de rencontres permet aux Sénégalaises et au Sénégalais mais aussi aux étrangers de faire connaissance en ligne préalablement avant de se rencontrer éventuellement physiquement sur le territoire sénégalais ou à l’étranger au sein de la diaspora.

Les sites de rencontres sénégalais ou plutôt les médias utilisés sur internet pour rencontrer des femmes sénégalaises et des hommes sénégalais prennent plusieurs formes :

L’utilisation d’un site de rencontres sénégalais s’adressent aux Sénégalaises et Sénégalais qui sont dans des situations personnelles ausi différentes les unes que les autres :

Pour remporter du succès auprès des sites de rencontres sénégalais et disposer de nombreuses rencontres aux choix, il faudra respecter certaines règles et étiquettes dans le dating.

Séduire une fille sénégalaise ou un homme sénégalais sur le net n’est pas chose aisée, sur internet faire connaissance ne se fait pas comme dans la vie réelle par l’intermédiaire d’une connaissance ou bien sur le lieu de travail.

Les sites de rencontre du Sénégal obéissent comme tous les sites de dating dans le monde à des lois simples mais que pourtant beaucoup de drageurs oublient quand ils sont en ligne:

Au Sénégal comme dans beaucoup de pays africains malheureusement, beaucoup de personnes mal intentionnées sous couvert d’anonymat pullulent dans les sites de rencontres avec des arnaques, il s’agit donc de rester sur le qui-vive lorsque vous désirez faire des rencontres virtuelles:

Séné vous a séléctionné les meilleurs sites sénégalais de rencontres.


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#2 – Promenade des thissois

If you know any other places or spots where Cruising can be practised in Dakar, you can add them to the map and share them with the rest of gay people through this link: Add a new cruising spot in Dakar, Senegal

Gay Travel Index

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New York

New York (auch „Big Apple“ genannt) hat erstaunlich viel zu bieten, von vielf�ltigen Schwulenbars und Tanzclubs bin hin zum Shoppen. Die Stadt, in der die Stonewall-Aufst�nde stattfanden, hat eine lebendige LGBT-Gemeinschaft und ist nicht ohne Grund auch als „Stadt, die niemals schl�ft“ bekannt… mehr

Gay Travel Index

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