Opinion: Dawood Lagardien Case – Queerphobia, Religion, and the South African Constitution

Living in South Africa can feel like navigating a landscape filled with contradictions. Our country takes pride in having one of the most progressive Constitutions in the world, a document that promises equality, dignity, and freedom for everyone.

I want to believe that these ideals hold true, not just on paper but in the everyday lives of people like me and those I love. But time and again, I’m reminded that for many queer people in this country, those promises remain just that, promises.

When Religion Becomes a Weapon

While our Constitution explicitly safeguards LGBTQIA+ rights, the reality we face is that this protection is often tenuous. It can be undermined by those who are meant to uphold it. Disturbingly, the most violent attacks against our rights come not only from fringe groups but also from prominent political leaders, religious figures, and public voices who invoke hatred in public forums. These individuals often use religion as a shield for their harmful rhetoric.

Faith is an integral part of life in South Africa. It shapes our culture and influences our politics. Unfortunately, when wielded by the powerful, it can become a weapon.

I think of political parties like the ACDP and Al Jama-ah, whose conservative religious beliefs resonate strongly within their ideologies. They are not mere whispers in the background; they are loud, persistent voices promoting narratives that portray our existence as queer individuals as incompatible with their vision of a moral society. Too often, we encounter a troubling silence in response to their harmful messages.

A Sign That Speaks Volumes

A jarring illustration occurred with Dawood Lagardien, a shop owner in Gqeberha who displayed a sign that read: “LGBTQ NOT WELCOME. SAVE OUR CHILDREN.” Just like that. In 2023. In democratic South Africa. A sign that could have come straight from apartheid-era segregation, reworded for a new target. The message was loud and clear: queer people are not welcome here.

Lagardien defended his sign by citing his rights under Section 15 of the Constitution, claiming he was entitled to express his beliefs, even when those beliefs sought to strip away the dignity of queer individuals.

Let that sink in: he used our very Constitution, the one that’s meant to protect all of us, to justify our exclusion.

The Digital Spread of Hate

It’s important to recognise that what may appear to be an isolated incident is part of a larger, troubling trend. Following the concerning signage, a WhatsApp group with approximately 700 members in Gqeberha was established. Initially framed as a community for “like-minded individuals,” it unfortunately became a platform for organised expressions of hate.

It transformed into a digital echo chamber that fostered homophobia, where individuals felt validated in their prejudices and justified in their harmful actions.

Let me be clear: this isn’t about one man and one sign. It reflects a broader environment that cultivates intolerance and fear. It concerns how hate, when left unchecked, takes root. It addresses how platforms, both physical and digital, are being exploited to spread fear and incite real-world harm.

Hate speech doesn’t merely remain on signs or in WhatsApp messages. It spills out into our streets, our schools, our homes. And it leads to violence and loss of life.

Whose Rights Hold More Weight?

Thankfully, the South African Human Rights Commission stepped in. They brought a legal case against Dawood Lagardien under PEPUDA, the Promotion of Equality and Prevention of Unfair Discrimination Act. They argued, rightly, that his actions violated Section 9 of the Constitution, which guarantees equality and explicitly prohibits discrimination based on sexual orientation.

Regrettably, Lagardien’s defence is based on his conservative religious beliefs. He asserts that Islamic convictions permit him to refuse service to LGBTQIA+ individuals, arguing that requiring him to include us infringes upon his rights and that the Constitution should safeguard his personal beliefs.

This issue goes beyond legal arguments; it strikes at the heart of personal experiences and emotions. It raises the difficult question of whose rights hold more weight. My right to exist safely and openly as a queer individual feels threatened by someone else’s desire to exclude me, and it’s disheartening that this ‘debate’ continues.

Organisations like Media Monitoring Africa joined the fight, emphasising that religious freedom should never be a shield for discrimination. They are right to raise this concern, as allowing prejudice under the guise of belief can lead to widespread harm. This jeopardises not just queer individuals but also womxn, transgender people, refugees and those with disabilities, anyone who doesn’t fit into a narrow definition of “acceptable.”

The Court Case and the Fight for Equality

The Dawood Lagardien case was moved from Gqeberha to East London, with the court hearing scheduled for Monday, 26 May 2025. This date carries profound significance; it marks exactly 100 days since the tragic assassination of Imam Hendricks. It serves as a stark reminder of the continuous threats facing queer lives, two painful events linked by a common thread of queerphobia masked in religious and political rhetoric, both in Gqeberha.

So where does that leave us? For me, it leaves us with a choice. We can continue to tiptoe around religious and political sensitivities, pretending that all opinions are valid, even the ones that harm. Or we can take a stand and firmly declare: Enough is enough.

We need to amplify this message. We need to say it in our churches, our mosques, our schools, our families, our WhatsApp groups. We need to say it as activists, as neighbours, as colleagues, as citizens: Hate is not a belief. Discrimination is not a value. Queer people deserve safety, dignity, and joy, not just on paper, but in every corner of this country.

Our Constitution is a living document, but it will only come alive if we fight for it. That fight isn’t just in courtrooms, it’s in our communities, in our conversations, in our everyday choices. And we have to keep showing up.

Because queer rights are humxn rights. Because freedom that excludes some of us isn’t freedom at all. And because no one should have to fight this hard just to be seen as fully humxn.

 

Sikhander Coopoo is a black, queer, Muslim intersectional feminist with backgrounds in gender, pedagogy and local governance. He is a social justice and humxn rights activist at heart. Sikhander serves on the Gender and Sexuality Alliance of East London committee and writes in his own capacity.