Shunned at birth: The invisible pain of intersex children fighting for acceptance

When David Baraka* was born, the world greeted him not with warmth or celebration, but with rejection and fear. His mere existence was seen as a curse, his life deemed unworthy of love or hope.

At just three weeks old, his mother, overwhelmed by societal stigma, shoved him into a dusty sack filled with iron nails, leaving him at a desolate construction site in Marereni village, Kilifi. In that moment, David’s future was uncertain—he would either suffocate in the sack or, by some miracle, be discovered by a kind soul.

Born intersex in 2021, David was marked as an outcast in his community. In the coastal Mijikenda culture, children born with intersex traits are often seen as omens of doom, bringers of misfortune. Their existence is cloaked in superstition, feared as a manifestation of an ancient curse known as “kijego.”

Intersex is a naturally occurring variation in human biology where an individual is born with physical sex characteristics—such as chromosomes, gonads, hormone levels, or reproductive anatomy—that do not fit typical definitions of male or female.

Intersex traits arise from a variety of genetic, hormonal, and developmental factors that affect how sex characteristics form in the womb. Some intersex variations are apparent at birth, while others may only be discovered during puberty, adulthood, or through medical examinations. Conditions, such as Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome (AIS), Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia (CAH), and Klinefelter Syndrome are among the medical classifications that fall under the intersex spectrum.

Although intersex identity was officially recognised as a third gender and included in Kenya’s birth notification certificates under Legal Notice 153 of 2025, deeply rooted cultural beliefs continue to place intersex children in danger.

Mzee Tsuma Nzai, a revered Kaya elder and custodian of Mijikenda traditions at the Magarini Cultural Centre, speaks with deep solemnity about the stigma that surrounds intersex children.

“They are believed to bring ukiya—misfortune—to the homesteads, that is why, traditionally, we had to get rid of them,” Mzee Nzai explained, his voice heavy with the weight of ancient customs.

David’s grandmother, who wishes to remain unnamed, recalls the moment her grandson was brought to her, an infant in the arms of a good Samaritan.

“He is a miracle baby. When I looked into his eyes and saw the spark of life, I knew he was special, destined for something greater than what the world had deemed him,” she said, her eyes glistening. But as for David’s mother, she never returned. Abandoned by society and by her own, she chose to leave her son to fate, unable to reconcile with the stigma surrounding him.

Culture of fear and erasure

Mzee Nzai explained the horrifying fate that would have awaited David had he not been rescued. Traditionally, the mother of an intersex baby was expected to drown the child to prevent calamity from befalling the village. The process was as chilling as it was systematic.

“A big hole would be dug under a baobab tree, and the baby would be placed inside. The mother was then forced to fill it with water, submerging the child completely. Once the baby stopped moving, the hole was covered, erasing their existence forever,” he recounted.

While these archaic traditions are not widely practised today, Nzai admitted that in some remote villages, the silent killing of intersex, microcephalic, and albino infants still occurs.

The threat to intersex children extends beyond the Coast. A study by Disability Rights International (DRI) found that 45 per cent of mothers with intersex babies in Kenya face pressure to end their lives.

In Kilifi County, the situation is even graver—two in every eight mothers of intersex infants reportedly face such coercion. Kenya’s 2019 National Population and Housing Census recorded 1,524 intersex persons nationwide, with 86 in the Coast region, the majority in Kilifi County (25 individuals). However, human rights activists believe the actual numbers are significantly higher, as many families hide intersex births due to fear and stigma.

Correction without consent

According to the Kenya Legal and Ethical Issues Network (KELIN), many intersex children undergo non-consensual and irreversible surgeries to forcibly assign them a gender. These procedures, often justified as necessary medical interventions, are performed before children are old enough to understand or consent.

KELIN has stated that there is no law in Kenya prohibiting such surgeries for intersex children too young to consent, leaving the decision of what is deemed surgically necessary to medical professionals. “Most medical experts continue to characterise intersex traits as disorders,” says Sostine Lewa, 32, who was subjected to corrective surgery as an infant.

Lewa was raised as a girl. Shortly after birth, her parents and doctors decided to assign her the female gender, removing her male reproductive organs in a procedure that was supposed to ‘fix’ her.

“My parents wanted a daughter because they already had five boys and three girls. They never told me the truth about my body,” she revealed.

Growing up, Lewa sensed she was different. She never menstruated, and the absence of her mother from the age of three left her without guidance.

“I was labelled a girl. I wanted to be a girl and fit in, but it wasn’t easy. I played with boys and felt more comfortable around them. When my niece once asked me to show her how to use a sanitary pad, I was lost—I had never experienced menstruation,” she recounted.

It wasn’t until she attended an awareness conference in Mombasa at 27 that she finally understood her identity.“That conference changed my life. I finally realised why I had always felt different,” she said.

After the conference, she returned home stressed out and confused. Lewa called for an emergency family meeting and asked her father to reveal the truth.

“I confronted my father to confirm. He cried and confirmed that indeed I was born intersex, but because they saw it as a curse, they opted for corrective surgery,” she said.

Lewa now feels that her parents deprived her of a lifetime opportunity to choosing her gender instead of allowing things to unfold naturally.

She is now a member of the Intersex Rights Initiative Coast, a new organisation focused on creating awareness about intersex people. She hopes that society will understand and accept intersex persons.

Call for ethical medical practices

Lenox Taura, a nurse at Kilifi Referral Hospital, emphasises the importance of patience when it comes to raising intersex children. He advises parents not to rush into gender reassignment at an early age.

“The body’s hormones need time to mature, with the stronger hormones developing gender-specific features while the weaker ones are naturally suppressed,” Taura explained.

He further encourages expectant mothers to attend regular antenatal care to detect any potential intersex conditions early, as such anomalies can often be managed more effectively if discovered in the womb.

Hannel Chivatsi, the director of the Intersex Rights Initiative Coast (IRIC), shared the mission behind founding the initiative. IRIC aims to support the creation of self-sustaining intersex communities while challenging discrimination. Chivatsi believes that intersex individuals and their families deserve resources and the opportunity to live without fear of marginalisation.

Dorcas Gitonga, the Sexual and Reproductive Health Rights (SRHR) programme officer and psychologist at KELIN, highlighted the risks of non-consensual genital assignment surgeries. “Such procedures can result in irreversible harm, including sterilisation, blocked reproductive systems, and mismatched genital features that don’t align with the body,” Gitonga said.

She strongly advocates for postponing such surgeries until the individual is old enough to provide informed consent. “The burden on parents of intersex children is immense, and they need proper support to navigate these complexities,” said Gitonga.

The consequences of birthing an intersex child extend beyond stigma—many mothers are abandoned by their husbands. Riziki Thoya recalls the moment she first saw her newborn in the delivery room.

“I looked at my baby, then at my husband and then the nurses. The room fell silent. The excitement of childbirth turned into fear,” she said.

Her husband walked out of the hospital and never came back.

To help support parents with disabled children, including intersex children, Amani Mwangatini Disability Caretaker self-help group was formed.

Pastor Simon Kenga, co-founder of the group, has so far registered 31 children with disabilities who they care for and raise awareness about.

No data

He adds that the majority of abandoned mothers are poor, with no source of income. They are raising their children single-handedly.

“Boys and girls with disabilities in Kilifi remain invisible in government statistics, unable to access health services, and subjected to societal discrimination, all while being trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty and violence,” Simon stated.

James Khambi, a human rights activist working with the community, highlighted that those responsible for these heinous crimes often remain unpunished, as they operate within a web of connections, carrying out their acts in secrecy.

While Kenya has made strides to legally recognise intersex persons, much work remains to challenge deep-seated cultural prejudices, ensure ethical medical practices, and provide vital economic and legal support to affected families.

For children, such as David, surviving infancy is only the beginning of an ongoing struggle for identity, dignity, and acceptance.

As intersex individuals grow older, the challenges only intensify. Education becomes a battleground, as many schools are poorly equipped to meet their unique needs. Furthermore, they often face pressure to adopt a gender identity that doesn’t align with their true selves, leading to bullying and exclusion.

Employment prospects are equally bleak. Discrimination in the workplace means many intersex individuals struggle to find jobs, pushing them deeper into poverty.

“You either hide your truth or risk losing opportunities,” he said.

Beyond social rejection, intersex people also face the threat of violence. Perpetrators of hate crimes are emboldened by cultural norms that condone discrimination, often operating in secrecy without facing any consequences.