Blog
Published on 05/07/2022
By Fatumata Binta Sall
As a bisexual woman from Liberia, a predominantly Christian country, attending the 69th Commission on the Status of Women (CSW69) at the United Nations was more than just a professional milestone; it was a deeply personal one. For me, and for the community I represent, this was a big moment for us. A moment of visibility for our movement in Liberia. A seat at a table we’ve long been excluded from.
Over the past ten years, I’ve worked within the LGBTQI+ movement in Liberia, advocating for rights, inclusion, access, and overall dignity in the face of hostility, cultural stigma, systemic neglect, and anti-LGBT legislation. In all those years, attending something like the CSW felt like a distant dream or something that would never be possible. Spaces like these were often dominated by voices from Kenya, Ghana, and Nigeria, countries with stronger networks and better access to global platforms.
West Africa’s LGBTQI+ representation at the CSW has historically been minimal, if not invisible. It’s not just because of the absence of information; it is because of the lack of resources and pathways to get there. Attending the CSW requires navigating logistical, financial, and bureaucratic hurdles. First, you need to secure funding for flights, accommodation, food, etc. Then comes the visa process. For many of us in West Africa, visa applications involve long wait times, high uncertainty, and too often, rejections. The system isn’t built for us. So when, against all odds, you actually receive the visa and make it onto that airplane, it’s nothing short of a victory.
My First Time at the CSW – CSW68
My first experience attending the CSW was during its 68th session in 2024. I walked into the Church Center for the United Nations (CCUN), an interfaith space across from the UN headquarters, both proud and intimidated. Surrounded by feminists, diplomats, and activists from around the world, I was there representing not just my organization, but queer West African women, many of whom have never been invited into these spaces.
As I walked up to the table reserved for panelists, I felt a huge wave of pride but also an overwhelming sense of impostor syndrome. People like me are rarely represented in rooms like that. As strange and unfamiliar as it felt, I had to shake those negative thoughts off and remind myself of the years of work that led me there. I had earned my place, I deserved to be in that room.
But the truth is, so many others like me, brilliant activists, passionate organizers, have also done the work and still never get the opportunity to attend, let alone speak on a panel. They don’t get the chance to network with other activists, to learn from them, or to meet potential donors who could support their community efforts. Yet, it is often in these spaces that those life-changing connections are made.
At times, I struggled to find myself in the conversations. The language, the tone, and the topics weren’t always inclusive of LGBTQI+ realities, let alone those of someone from a country like Liberia. Still, it was a powerful learning curve. I paid close attention, made connections, and began to understand how these global processes operate and how they so often exclude people like me, not necessarily by intent, but by default.
That experience lit a fire in me. It gave me a renewed sense of purpose and a clearer understanding of how to sharpen my advocacy so that others like me won’t just dream of being there, but will get the chance to be seen, heard, and included.
CSW69 – Coming Back Stronger
Returning for CSW69 was different. I was better prepared. More confident. This time, I came not just as a participant, but as a contributor. I joined side events, networked with other queer feminists, and boldly shared my lived experience as a bisexual woman working on the frontlines in Liberia. I found myself advocating not just for inclusion, but for structural change, calling for equitable access to funding, visa support, and greater representation for activists from countries where our voices are often silenced.
A major takeaway from CSW69 was the realization that attending the CSW is not only about representing my community or bringing visibility to the movement in my country. It is also an opportunity to collaborate with other movement actors from West Africa to amplify our work and share our lived realities. Movements from other regions, such as East Africa, Asia, and the Caribbean, have long used the CSW space to build solidarity, increase visibility, and generate momentum. In contrast, representation from West Africa remains noticeably limited.
Aside from Nigeria, which has often been represented by the same individuals in recent years, most of the region has had very little visibility in this space. This highlights the urgent need for broader West African engagement in global forums like the CSW, so that we can shape our own narratives and strengthen our collective voice on the international stage.
Navigating Feminist Spaces and Women's Groups
My advocacy at CSW is not accidental. It comes from years of feeling invisible, unheard, and excluded—not just from international platforms, but even within national feminist movements that often fail to see LGBTQI+ rights as integral to gender justice. Over time, I have realized that we need to push our way into these spaces. Not just to be seen, but to shape the agenda.
You might wonder how I am able to navigate feminist and women’s rights spaces. Let me tell you that it did not happen overnight. I was not simply given a seat at the table. I had to insert myself into those spaces. More often than not, people don’t invite you into these rooms. And even when you find yourself in them, they can be intimidating, even scary. There’s always the risk of being outed, of being misunderstood, or outrightly discriminated against by people who are themselves fighting against oppression, but fail to acknowledge yours.
One thing I’ve learned is this: if you want to be treated as an equal, you have to show up as an equal. No one is going to hand us these spaces. We must demand to be in them, not with hostility, but with respect for those who still do not fully understand the struggles of LBQ+ communities. That respect doesn’t mean silence. It means meaningful engagement.
Whenever I enter those spaces, I try to bring dialogue, not just presence. I offer education, especially around Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity and Expression (SOGIE). I take the time to help others understand the lived realities behind the labels. And slowly, often painfully, I’ve been able to remove some of the negative perceptions they have of the LGBTQ+ community. That’s how we make progress, not by waiting to be welcomed, but by walking in with purpose and inviting understanding.
Being at the CSW is not the end goal. It is a tool; a place to build alliances, influence policy, and disrupt the narrative that African LGBTQI+ persons are only victims. We are leaders, thinkers, and change-makers. And our presence at global platforms like the CSW is essential if we want to move from tokenism to transformation.
If you're an LGBTQI+ activist dreaming of attending the CSW, know this: it's not impossible, but it requires planning, support, and resilience. Start by connecting with organizations that can sponsor your participation. Apply early for visas. Learn the language of global advocacy.
And most importantly, don’t let the difficulty of the journey make you believe you don’t belong. You do. I do. And I’ll continue to show up not just for myself, but for every queer African woman still fighting to be heard.
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Fatumata Binta Sall (she/her) is a Human Rights activist and an intersectional feminist. As the founder and Executive Director of Sisters 4 Sisters (Liberia), Binta focuses on advocating for the inclusion of marginalized women, including Lesbian, Bisexual, Queer, Trans, Non-Binary individuals, women living with HIV, and female sex workers, in healthcare and empowerment programs throughout Liberia. With a decade of experience as a human rights defender, Binta is passionate about advancing the LBTQ movement across West Africa, particularly in supporting young queer women and girls.
Binta holds a Diploma in Sexual and Reproductive Health and Rights from Lund University, Sweden, and is a certified Psychological First Aid responder from Johns Hopkins University. Currently, Binta serves as Co-chairperson of the Women Human Rights Defender Network of Liberia and is an alumna of the International Visitor Leadership Program (IVLP), a premier exchange program by the U.S. Department of State. Binta is also a member of the Liberian Feminist Forum.
