When 18-year-old Roberto first experienced menstruation, she was terrified. Born intersex and raised as a boy, she had never been taught about periods, let alone how to manage one.
Before that terrifying day, Roberto had spent her entire life in a quiet village in Kisii County. Her parents never disclosed anything about her intersex identity, partly because they did not fully understand it themselves, and partly due to the stigma surrounding differences in sex development.
Roberto grew up playing football with boys, dressing like them, and following all the expectations of male childhood. Yet, as she entered adolescence, she began noticing subtle changes in her body that did not match those of her peers.
She occasionally experienced discomfort, mood shifts, and physical traits she could not explain. With no information about intersex bodies or reproductive health, she simply brushed these feelings aside. Conversations about menstruation were reserved for girls, leaving Roberto completely unprepared for what was coming.
βI thought I was bleeding to death, but I could not tell anyone, not even my mother,β she recalls. βI used an old T-shirt and hid it under my mattress.β
It was only years later, after meeting a community health volunteer who worked with intersex and gender-diverse youth, that Roberto finally shared her experience. The volunteer explained what it meant to be intersex, helped her understand her body, and connected her to a safe support group.
Through these conversations, Roberto slowly began embracing an identity that felt more aligned with who she truly was. She chose to use she/her pronouns because it was the first time she felt seen, understood, and comfortable in her own skin.
βIt felt like breathing freely for the first time,β she says. βLike I could finally be myself without fear.β
Robertoβs experience reveals a little-known truth: intersex individuals who menstruate are often invisible in menstrual health policies, education, and aid programmes.
While Kenya, and Africa more broadly, has made progress in addressing period poverty among girls and women, intersex people are left behind, navigating their cycles in silence and shame.
When 23-year-old John first experienced menstruation, it was not a typical βcoming-of-ageβ moment. Instead, it became a confusing and isolating chapter defined by stigma and secrecy.
Growing up in South Nyanza, John lived in a household and a wider community that neither understood nor accepted their identity, let alone their menstrual health needs.
βI bled in silence for years, and yet I could not talk to anyone,β they recount. βMy mother kept asking why I was not βnormalβ, but I was too scared to explain something I did not even fully understand myself.β
Intersex persons like Roberto and John are often excluded from the conversation about menstruation.
βThis is despite the fact that they suffer in silence,β says Margret Mogaka, a reproductive health advocate at the Kisii Teaching and Referral Hospital (KTRH).
Although the Kenyan governmentΒ launched the Menstrual Hygiene Management PolicyΒ in 2019 to promote menstrual equity, intersex individuals are not included.
βMenstruation is still framed as a female-only issue,β says Mogaka. βThis excludes not only trans men but also intersex people, many of whom menstruate and need the same support.β
She adds that many public schools, clinics, and community programmes assume only girls need menstrual products or information.
βThis makes it nearly impossible for intersex menstruators to access sanitary pads or counseling without facing ridicule.β [...]
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