By Ansu Kamara
GANTA, Nimba County – Two young intersex individuals in Nimba County are issuing a desperate plea for medical intervention and government protection as they face extreme social ostracization, physical pain, and deepening psychological distress.
Prince Domah, 17, and Elfrieda Kpah, 25, whose names have been changed to protect identities, say their lives have been defined by a lack of specialized healthcare and a community that often labels them as “unnatural” or “witches.” With no local medical facilities equipped to handle their complex biological needs, both individuals warn that the mounting trauma has pushed them to the brink of despair.
For Prince, a resident of the busy city of Ganta, life is a daily negotiation between two worlds. Publicly, he presents as male. He plays football and identifies as a man. However, behind that outward identity lies a complex medical reality that surfaced when he was just eight years old.
He said medical professionals confirmed that he possesses internal female reproductive structures. While surgery was recommended years ago, the procedure requires specialized care that simply does not exist in Liberia. The physical complications have since escalated, making even basic daily activities like urinating difficult and humiliating.
“The trauma is too much for me,” he says. “The pain is too much. I am begging anyone, any organization, the government, or people around the world to please help me get medical treatment before my condition makes me crazy.”
Despite the diagnosis, his family has chosen acceptance. His older brother, who has spent years searching for answers, says they have exhausted their means. “Anywhere he chooses to be, we accept him. It is not his fault,” he said. “We don’t have the means anymore. Please, come to our rescue.”
The struggle of Kuoah and Saye highlights a critical gap in Liberia’s healthcare system and human rights framework. Beyond the medical anomalies, their situation reveals a crisis where a lack of public education and specialized surgical care leaves intersex Liberians vulnerable to lifelong isolation, systemic neglect, and severe mental health challenges.
In the quieter city of Kahnplay, Elfrieda Kpah’s journey has been marked by even harsher social consequences. Identifying as female, Saye first noticed her body was different at age six. As she grew, she faced ridicule during communal activities, such as bathing, where others would point and laugh.
The stigma eventually turned into a dangerous narrative, with community members labeling her a “witch.” The isolation took a devastating toll. “I told my mother one day I wanted to kill myself because of this condition,” she recalled.
Unlike Patrick, Saye’s support system is extremely limited. Most of her relatives distanced themselves long ago, leaving her mother as her only emotional anchor. Her education ended prematurely, and the dream of building a family feels increasingly out of reach. “No man wants to come around me,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like ending my life because nothing is changing. But I still believe someone out there can help me.”
Kou Saye: Rejection and Resilience in Kahnplay
A Call for Dignity and Human Rights
The Liberia Equality Network (LEN) has characterized the situation in Nimba as a fundamental human rights concern. The organization’s Executive Director emphasizes that these stories are not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern of neglect affecting intersex people nationwide.
“This is not just a personal struggle; it is a matter of dignity and human rights,” the Director stated. “No one should be pushed to the point of depression or isolation because of how they were born.”
LEN is calling for an immediate intervention from the government and international partners, focusing on three key areas, namely specialized medical care, psychosocial support, and public advocacy.
Hope Hanging in the Balance
Despite the years of suffering, both Patrick and Kou continue to hold onto a fragile sense of hope. Patrick seeks a stable future where he can live without physical pain, while Kou dreams of a day when she can walk through her community without fingers being pointed at her.
However, both are clear that hope alone will not save them. Their message to the government and the international community remains urgent: “Please help us… before it is too late.”
This story was funded by the European Union under the Liberia Media Empowerment Project (LMEP). Its contents are the sole responsibility of journalRAGE and do not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union.