This Is Love insists on the normalcy of queer relationships, showing that they are not separate from Nigerian society but an integral part of it.
By Joseph Jonathan
In 2014, Nigeria’s Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act (SSMPA) was signed into law by then-President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan, effectively criminalising same-sex relationships and any form of public advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights.
The law imposes severe penalties, including up to 14 years in prison for participating in same-sex unions and up to 10 years for supporting or organising LGBTQ+ gatherings. This legislation not only institutionalised homophobia but also emboldened widespread violence, discrimination, and social ostracism against queer individuals.
Considering that the Nigerian society is a place where queerness is often met with hostility, silence, or outright erasure, This Is Love stands as a bold act of defiance. Co-directed by Victor Ugoo Njoku and Neec Nonso, this feature-length documentary is not merely a chronicle of love; it is an unflinching gaze into the lived realities of LGBTQ+ Nigerians.
This Is Love does not seek to argue for acceptance but rather to assert the existence of love that persists in spite of, and perhaps because of, the oppressive forces arrayed against it.
At the heart of the documentary are three couples: Ijeoma and Emmanuella, Maya and Silva, and CJ and Jeffrey. Through intimate interviews, interwoven with striking visuals and poetic narration, the film brings audiences into their world, a world where love is both an act of tenderness and an act of survival.
Njoku and Nonso’s lens treats its subjects with dignity and care, emphasising the everyday moments of connection that heterosexual couples take for granted. The film captures stolen glances, hands clasped in quiet reassurance, and laughter shared in spaces carved out of a society that actively seeks to deny their legitimacy. These small but significant moments are a direct counter to the dominant narrative that queerness is unnatural or foreign. Instead, This Is Love insists on the normalcy of queer relationships, showing that they are not separate from Nigerian society but an integral part of it.
The documentary’s strength lies in its ability to balance the harsh realities of LGBTQ+ life in Nigeria with moments of tenderness and hope. Each couple’s story is a testament to the courage it takes to love openly in a society that denies their very existence.
Njoku and Nonso employ a delicate visual language — soft lighting, close-ups of intertwined hands, and blooming flowers—to contrast the austere atmosphere of a world that refuses to accept them. These visual metaphors speak to the resilience of the subjects, who, like the flowers, persist and thrive despite the lack of nurturing soil.
This Is Love doesn’t reduce its subjects to mere victims. While the film does not shy away from depicting the violence, discrimination, and familial rejection faced by LGBTQ+ Nigerians, it also highlights their agency, joy, and humanity.
The lesbian couple, Ijeoma and Emmanuella, radiate warmth and humour as they share their journey, while Maya and Silva, and CJ and Jeffrey, offer raw and heartfelt accounts of their struggles and triumphs. Their stories are not just about survival but about finding moments of beauty and connection in a world that often feels devoid of both.
This Is Love also examines the broader societal structures that perpetuate homophobia in Nigeria, from the Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act to the role of religion and cultural norms. It raises critical questions about the intersection of law, morality, and humanity, encouraging viewers to confront the contradictions of a society that preaches love and acceptance while systematically denying it to certain groups.
Jeffrey’s admission that he hides his sexuality from his father to maintain their relationship speaks to the painful compromises many queer people are forced to make. Meanwhile, Maya’s experience of multiple physical attacks emphasises the ever-present danger of simply existing as an LGBTQ+ person in Nigeria.
Religion, being a central pillar of Nigerian society, also looms large in This is Love. The subjects navigate faith in deeply personal ways, confronting the contradiction of seeking spiritual solace from institutions that often condemn their very existence. The film does not offer easy answers but instead presents a spectrum of responses, from outright rejection to a reimagining of faith outside traditional structures.
One of the rather striking elements of the film is its use of masks and voice distortions to protect the identities of the interviewees. While necessary for safety, these visual and auditory choices become a powerful metaphor for the hidden lives many are forced to lead. Even in a film meant to celebrate love, the burden of secrecy is inescapable.
This Is Love is a necessary film. In a country where the law criminalises LGBTQ+ existence and where mainstream narratives render queer love invisible or immoral, Njoku and Nonso have created a testament to truth. This is not a plea for tolerance; it is a declaration of presence. Love exists here. It has always existed here. And no law, no sermon, no act of violence can erase it, for in all its beauty, its pain, and its triumph, this is love.
Rating: 3/5
Joseph Jonathan is a historian who seeks to understand how film shapes our cultural identity as a people. He believes that history is more about the future than the past. When he’s not writing about film, you can catch him listening to music or discussing politics. He tweets @JosieJp3.