Top 34 Quotes & Sayings by Binyavanga Wainaina

What is astonishing is that globalised technology, like Whatsapp and Viber, really gives a lot of leeway to negotiating spaces and to keeping one's identity. So people are able to be more receptive as a gay community to be part of an environment that is going to challenge the law.

We are a mixed up people. We have mixed up ways of naming, too... When my father's brothers and sisters first went to colonial schools, they had to produce a surname. They also had to show they were good Christians by adopting a western name. They adopted my grandfather's name as surname. Wainaina.

Every one, we, we homosexuals, are people, and we need our oxygen to breathe.

The time we are living in is the greatest opportunity to be queer, and it is almost the most dangerous time because everything is up for grabs.

There is no country in the world with the diversity, confidence and talent and black pride like Nigeria.

People reach an age... where somebody else's platform is no longer yours.

I like the idea of readers feeling a familiarity, whether it's with Africa or childhood.

I, Binyavanga Wainaina, quite honestly swear I have known I am a homosexual since I was five.

I'm extremely optimistic about rapid transformation and change of things in Africa in general.

It's like I was always not quite sure even how to move in space somehow; I would watch people and then copy them. I found it really hard to walk straight. My brother was always on at me for walking off the pavement. I guess I always expected people to bring me back into line.

In kindergarten, we had this Irish Catholic headmistress called Sister Leonie, and I remember she would tell us, say, to put the crayons in the box. I remember thinking, 'Why is everyone finding this so easy? Why should the crayons be in the box?'

Living in South Africa and periodically coming back to Kenya, my relationship with officialdom in Kenya was just insane.

I knew I didn't want to come out in the 'New Yorker'; it just felt wrong. It needed an African conversation.

I'm not even sure I want to use the term 'coming out.'

All people have dignity. There's nobody who was born without a soul and a spirit.

I'm an African. I was brought up here; my home is here. Being an Afropolitan, I am here to stay.

I am quite excited that Moi is leaving. Kenyans have changed. We have a free press, and it is no longer a situation of 'follow in my footsteps.'

Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care.

I love playing with words and texture.

Every human being has a bit of gangster in him.

I believe in, and will to the best of my ability fight for, equal rights and freedom of opinion for everyone, regardless of colour, religion, nationality, orientation - you know the rest.

There's no point for me in being a writer and having all these blocked places where I feel I can't think freely and imagine freely. There just really is no point.

I want to be fighting for a society accountable towards its citizens.

Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel prize.

When I went to live in South Africa, I immediately began to understand what went wrong. Because here was a place supposed to be under apartheid - I arrived there in 1991 - but here a black person had more say and had more influence over his white government than an average Kenyan had over the Moi government.

International correspondents with their long dictaphones, and dirty jeans, and five hundred words before whiskey, are slouched over the red velvet chairs, in the VIP section in the front, looking for the Story: the Most Macheteing Deathest, Most Treasury Corruptest, Most Entrail-Eating Civil Warest, Most Crocodile-Grinning Dictatorest, MOst Heart-Wrenching and Genociding Pulitzerest, Most Black Big-Eyed Oxfam Child Starvingest, Most Wild African Savages Having AIDS-Ridden Sexest with Genetically Mutilatedest Girls...The Most Authentic Real Black Africanest story they can find.

I have learned that I, we, are a dollar-a-day people (which is terrible, they say, because a cow in Japan is worth $9 a day). This means that a Japanese cow would be a middle class Kenyan... a $9-a-day cow from Japan could very well head a humanitarian NGO in Kenya. Massages are very cheap in Nairobi, so the cow would be comfortable.

Everywhere I go, I see young people: Confident, forward looking. I have seen them in Lagos, in Rwanda, in the suburbs of London.

People reach an age... where somebody elses platform is no longer yours.

Africa is to be pitied, worshipped or dominated

I like the idea of readers feeling a familiarity, whether its with Africa or childhood.

It is a pink and blue feeling, as sharp as clear sky; a slight breeze, and the edges of Lake Nakuru would rise like the ruffle at the edge of a skirt; and I am pockmarked with whole-body pinpricks of potentiality. A stretch of my body would surely stretch as far as the sky. The whole universe poised, and I am the agent of any movement.

All people have dignity. Theres nobody who was born without a soul and a spirit.

I’m extremely optimistic about rapid transformation and change of things in Africa in general.