At the age of 32 years, Refiloehape Sesinyi carries the weight of generational adversity, and the strength of transformation. Born sighted, her world began to darken after a childhood accident during play that left one eye severely affected. The other eye gradually followed, leaving her completely without vision. But even as she struggled to make sense of her new world, Refiloehape suspected that the darkness wasn’t just circumstantial, it could be genetic. Her father was also visually impaired, and now her six-year-old daughter, too, is visually impaired.

“I was devastated,” she says quietly. “My life has totally changed. I couldn’t cope. I kept wondering, where will I take her to school? How will she manage? I had thought my daughter would grow up to be my support system. But disability is scary. It’s not something I would wish for even my worst enemy.”

Her daughter’s blindness followed a frighteningly similar pattern: a freak accident while playing led to an eye infection and then retinal detachment. A year later, the second eye went dark while she was at school. “Everything changed after that,” Refiloehape recalls. “I had to pause my Master's degree in Gender Studies. I’ve been in and out of hospitals trying to find help for her.”

But Refiloehape’s challenges did not begin—or end—with health. As a young, blind university student, she found it nearly impossible to access contraceptives or sexual and reproductive health services without facing judgment, barriers, or even humiliation.

“There was no real orientation to the environment for students with disabilities,” she says. “I was guided around campus, but I was never empowered to navigate the health system. At health facilities, I’d be asked so many intrusive questions that I’d just give up and walk away. Even the morning-after pill was a battle to get.”

Pregnancy was another turning point—not just physically, but socially. “People assumed I had been sexually abused,” she says. “I was judged so harshly. I remember a lecturer humiliating me in front of my class. I wasn’t even the only one who was pregnant, but I was the one laughed at.”

For UNFPA, the United Nations Sexual and Reproductive Health agency, access to contraceptives, comprehensive sexuality education (CSE), and reproductive health services is a fundamental human right—regardless of age, gender, or disability status.

Through its work, UNFPA advocates for Inclusive health systems that are accessible to people with disabilities; Capacitation of healthcare workers to offer respectful, non-judgmental services; Youth-friendly services that respect autonomy and privacy and Community engagement to address stigma and promote rights-based approaches.

UNFPA’s view is that no young person—like Refiloehape—should be denied the knowledge, support, and care they need to make informed decisions about their body and their future.

Still, through the darkness, a light found Refiloehape.

In July, 2025, she participated in the Regional Capacity-building Workshop to roll out the “Breaking the Silence” approach—a four-day training designed to equip educators of learners with disabilities to deliver disability-inclusive Comprehensive Sexuality Education (CSE). The approach is a joint initiative by UNFPA, UNESCO and the South African Medical Research Council (SAMRC), developed to ensure that young people with disabilities (YPWD) can access accurate, age-appropriate, and empowering information about their bodies, rights and choices.

“For me, it was a rebirth,” Refiloehape says with a spark of hope. “It took me back to high school. The creativity was amazing—using cardboard and rubbers to represent internal organs. I finally understood my reproductive system. I wish I had had this knowledge earlier. I wouldn’t have felt so lost.”

The Breaking the Silence model focuses on three pillars: curriculum delivery, community engagement, and parental support—all grounded in respect for the autonomy and rights of young people with disabilities. It’s more than just education; it’s liberation.

“The workshop gave me comfort. It gave me assurance,” she says. “I now believe that my daughter and others like her can grow up with the information I never had.”

But Refiloehape’s dreams don’t end there. While she wishes she could have more children—maybe four -- she is afraid of having more children with disabilities.

What she truly hopes for is a future where inclusion is not an aspiration, but a reality.

“I want a Lesotho where people with disabilities are empowered. Where we don’t have to depend on others. I want to see technology used to level the playing field—so that employers don’t fear my disability, but instead see my capability.”

Refiloehape’s story is a reminder that disability is not inability. That inclusive sexuality education is not a privilege—it is a right. And that no young woman, with or without disability, should ever be left in the dark about her body, her choices, or her future.

Through “Breaking the Silence,” she has found her voice. Now, she is ready to help others find theirs.