Nestled in a quiet, leafy Nairobi neighborhood just a stone's throw from the throbbing of sounds of a sprawling city market, is a refuge where intersex, transgender, and gender-nonconforming Kenyans can escape searing public judgment and discrimination.

Inside, posters encouraging acceptance and love cover the foyers' white walls; bathrooms boast gender-neutral signs. Downstairs, people share a late lunch of beans and rice while chatting on deep, soft couches. Upstairs, a transgender woman applies red lipstick without a mirror, then poses for a portrait, the sequins of her ruby red stilettos flicker in the long, afternoon light.

This safehouse is the heart of Jinsiangu, an organization advocating for the wellbeing of gender nonbinary people in Kenya. Its name comes from a combination of Swahili words meaning "my gender."

This summer, Kenya completed the colossal effort to conduct its decennial census — from urban high rises to rural, tin-topped huts — and for the first time, it included a new gender category: intersex. This marked a first not only in Kenya but across the continent. Activists hope this will set a precedent for intersex rights in Kenya and around the globe, but intersex inclusion is still far from reality.

Globally, approximately 1-3 percent of the population are considered intersex and by those estimates, there could be as many as 1.4 million intersex people in Kenya, according to the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights.

At the helm of Jinsiangu is Kwaboka Kibagendi, an approachable man with an impassioned voice, who has pushed for intersex inclusion since he started the safe house six years ago. Raised as a girl, Kibagendi, 33, didn't realize he was intersex until six years ago. He blames cultural stigma, discrimination, and a general lack of information as the reason he, and so many others, discover their identities late in life. Read more via The Week