When I was 16-years-old, I fell ill with malaria. The doctors gave me quinine and although this cured it, the medication also made me permanently deaf.  It took my parents and I a long time to come to terms with what had happened - but I got back up again, determined to make the most of my life.

Many people, including my own stepmother, sniggered and wondered why I was bothering to go back to school. But I persevered and, in my early twenties, was awarded a scholarship to study for a masters degree in Human Rights.

Losing my hearing at a later age meant I had already developed good speech and a relatively good understanding of the world.

But thousands of deaf children in Uganda aren’t as ‘lucky.’ In many families, they are forgotten - and the problem is so much worse for girls who are already struggling to be heard and treated as equals.

In my mid-twenties, I started a community group for deaf women and men to meet regularly and talk about the issues we faced being deaf. I soon realised that while the men would talk about their jobs and lives outside the group – for the women, this was all they had.

Deaf women in Uganda were missing out on so much in life that I was inspired to set up the United Deaf Women’s Organisation (UDEWO), in 2002. As executive director, I’ve been working to support and empower women ever since - I want to see a society where we are treated as equals. There were more than 126,000 deaf people in Uganda in 2002, and many of those are women.

For them, a big challenge is sexual exploitation. There is a high rate of rape among deaf women and the perpetrators aren’t brought to justice. I’ve met many deaf women who have summoned the courage to report rape to the police, only to be turned away because the authorities didn’t know how to manage it.

A lack of communication lies at the heart of this inequality. I recently met with a girl called Nancy - a 15-year-old currently attending a boarding school for the deaf. Nancy was refusing to return to her father’s home at the end of term and I soon learnt that he had been sexually abusing her for years.

After arranging temporary shelter for Nancy, I met with her mother to try to understand why she hadn’t done anything about it, despite her daughter previously opening up to her.

She broke down in tears. She was inconsolable. Even though Nancy had told her mother about the abuse, she had never understood and seemingly ignored it. This is why providing sign language training to families and communities is a key part of our work. Too often, I’ve seen the devastating effects that a lack of communication can have on the lives of both deaf men and women alike.

At UDEWO we tackle sexual exploitation by empowering women and informing them about their rights.

Just because a man forces himself on you, or offers you money, it doesn’t mean you have to accept it. With a lack of communication and language skills, it can be hard for deaf women to comprehend what is right and wrong, so we provide training and counselling to make more deaf women aware of what constitutes abuse. We’re also raising awareness and providing training to police, so they are better able to support deaf women.

Recently, 93 police officers around Uganda graduated in sign language through our project. They’ve even set up a WhatsApp group so that when a deaf woman reports a crime, they can send a trained officer to support her.

If the police fail to offer support, we report it to the media and expose them - while sending out the message that deaf women can no longer be treated as passive victims.

I’m glad to say I’ve witnessed positive progress in the last few years.  As an educated and successful deaf woman, I enjoy meeting parents and challenging the stereotype that all deaf women are stupid, or kasiru as we are still called in Uganda.

I’m living proof that deaf women can go to school and achieve - and with more support from organisations like Deaf Child Worldwide, I’m looking forward to being part of a world where women aren’t discriminated against, whether they are deaf or not.