They say dynamite comes in small packages and Thapi Semenya is certainly proof of that. Thapi Semenya is a passionate diabetes advocate, wellness storyteller, and the founder of Zealdaily Diabetes NPC, a nonprofit dedicated to improving access to diabetes care and essential medicines, especially in underserved communities.
Diagnosed with type 1 diabetes as a child, Thapi’s journey has shaped her commitment to creating spaces where people living with chronic conditions feel seen, supported, and empowered. Her work is rooted in lived experience, empathy, and the belief that everyone deserves access to care that honors both their physical and emotional well-being.
Thapi is also a mental health advocate who speaks openly about navigating bipolar disorder and anxiety, using her platform to break stigma and build community through honest conversation and vulnerability.
Named one of the Mail & Guardian 200 Young South Africans in Health & Wellness, she continues to lead with compassion — creating content, conversations, and initiatives that center people over policies and healing over perfection.”
Let's get to know this badass young gun as #OSKEasks…
NAME: Thapi Semenya
DAY JOB: Digital Marketing Specialist
SOCIALS: @thapisems
WHAT’S THE CLOSEST THING TO REAL MAGIC?
It might just be EMDR. Not the kind of magic with wands and spells — but the quiet kind. The kind that happens in a therapist’s room, with closed eyes, gentle taps, or rhythmic sounds. The kind that reaches deep into the places words often fail to go.
EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, is a powerful therapy designed to help people heal from trauma. It doesn’t erase the past — it rewires how the brain holds it. It softens the sting of painful memories, helping the body and mind finally feel safe again.
For many, EMDR feels like time travel: visiting the moments that fractured them, and returning with less weight. It helps the nervous system breathe again. It untangles the beliefs we unconsciously built in our hardest moments — I’m not safe, I’m not enough, I can’t trust anyone — and makes space for gentler truths.
It’s not instant. It’s not easy. But there’s something almost mystical about watching your brain learn that it doesn’t have to live in survival mode anymore.
And that?
That’s the kind of magic that turns survival into softness.
That transforms triggers into memories.
That gives your body permission to exhale.
Real magic is healing. And sometimes, healing looks like EMDR.
DESCRIBE YOUR GIRLBOSS MOMENT.
It wasn’t a stage or a spotlight. It was a moment in front of my laptop at 2AM, building a nonprofit from scratch with nothing but a vision, lived experience, and a whole lot of heart. It was sending that email I was terrified to send. Speaking on panels when my voice was shaking. Holding space for others even when I was still learning to hold it for myself.
It was realizing that advocacy isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s in the quiet, consistent fight to make healthcare more just, one conversation, one campaign, one life at a time.
My girlboss moment wasn’t a single event. It’s every time I chose to show up — for my community, for the cause, and most importantly, for myself.
HOW DID YOU LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A WOMAN?
In the quiet strength of my mother’s hands. In the way women around me stitched communities together with nothing but resilience and prayer.
In the softness I was once told to hide — and later reclaimed as power.
I learned it through illness, through advocacy, through the audacity to take up space in rooms that weren’t built for me.
Through the balance of being caretaker and cared for, warrior and worrier, bold and breaking — sometimes all at once.
Being a woman, to me, is a constant becoming.
It’s unlearning shame.
It’s honoring intuition.
It’s rewriting the story, especially when the world tries to write it for you.
I’m still learning. But I know now that being a woman isn’t about perfection — it’s about presence. And that, in itself, is enough.
WHO TAUGHT YOU WHAT LOVE IS?
The women in my life did. The ones who held space without needing explanations.
The ones who knew when to hold me and when to push me. The ones who reminded me that I am not too much, even when I felt like I was unraveling.
Love looked like packed lunches, long voice notes, checking if I had taken my insulin. It looked like staying — not just in the easy moments, but through the heaviness too.
But I also taught myself. When I stopped settling for crumbs. When I started listening to my own needs.
When I realized that love doesn’t always come wrapped in romance — sometimes it’s rest. Sometimes it’s boundaries. Sometimes it’s walking away.
I’m still learning what love is. But I know now — it starts with truth, and it never asks you to shrink.
WHAT IS INTIMACY?
It’s being seen — really seen — and not turning away. It’s the moment someone remembers how you take your coffee. Or notices the shift in your tone before you’ve even said, “I’m not okay.”
It’s someone asking, “Have you eaten?” It’s exposing the parts of yourself that aren’t polished, pretty, or put together — and being held, not fixed.
Intimacy isn’t just physical. It’s emotional fluency. It’s spiritual closeness. It’s safety. It’s laughter during a late-night walk and silence that doesn’t feel heavy.
It’s when your scars don’t scare them — and your softness doesn’t scare you.
That’s intimacy. Not perfection, but presence. Not performing, but being. Fully. Freely. Finally.
WHAT DID YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU?
She taught me that strength doesn’t always look like loudness — sometimes it’s quiet, steady, and unwavering. That showing up, even when you’re tired, is its own kind of love. That sacrifice can be silent. And so can resilience. She taught me how to make a plan when there’s no roadmap. How to stretch what little you have and still give with both hands. How to love deeply, fiercely — even when the world is unkind.
My mother taught me to stand tall, but also to sit with my feelings. To never beg for what I deserve. To pray. To fight. To feel.
She didn’t always have the words, but she lived the lessons. And in her, I learned that being a woman means being a universe: carrying storms, sunlight, and softness all at once.
TELL US SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR BODY THAT YOU WISH YOU’D ALWAYS KNOWN?
That it was never the enemy. For so long, I saw my body through the lens of numbers — blood sugar levels, insulin doses, hospital visits. I thought strength meant control, and that control meant perfection. But I wish I had known sooner: my body was doing the best it could to keep me alive.
Even on the days it felt like it was betraying me, it was actually protecting me. Even in the chaos, it was communicating — asking for care, not punishment.
I wish I’d known that softness is strength too. That rest is a right, not a reward. That my body wasn’t broken — it was brave.
And maybe most of all… I wish I’d known that loving my body doesn’t mean it has to be easy — it just has to be honest.
ULTIMATE MAKE-OUT PLAYLIST
Title: Tough Times Never Last
WHO SHOULD EVERYONE BE FOLLOWING RIGHT NOW?
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Thank you, Thapi, for sharing your thoughts and feelings with the OSKE community. Follow her on insta to learn more about her journey with Type-1 Diabetes or for some great skincare tips!
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