Disability Advocate Yessenia Leyva’s Journey in South Florida

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Yessenia Leyva empowers individuals with disabilities in Florida

Expanding Disability Support Networks
– Who: Yessenia Leyva, disability advocate and owner of Disability Programs and Training (DPT)
– Where: Coral Springs, South Florida
– When: DPT launched during COVID (as described in the WSVN 7News 7Spotlight profile)
– Reach: “more than 75 people” currently in her advocacy circle (per the same report)
– What she helps with: jobs, benefits navigation (including Social Security and Medicaid), and community connection

  • Born with spina bifida, Yessenia Leyva was told she might not survive childhood—or ever walk.
  • She proved doctors wrong, graduating college and building a life in South Florida.
  • During COVID, she launched Disability Programs and Training (DPT) as a “one stop shop” for disability support.
  • Today, she advocates for more than 75 people, helping them access jobs, benefits, and community.

Yessenia Leyva’s Early Life and Medical Challenges

When Yessenia Leyva was born, her parents were given a prognosis that framed her life in the bleakest terms. Doctors told them their daughter might not make it—and that if she did, she could be profoundly disabled. Leyva has recalled hearing that message directly: “Your daughter is not going to make it. If she does, she is going to be a vegetable.”

Understanding Spina Bifida Care Needs
Spina bifida is a condition that affects the spine and spinal cord. It can lead to a wide range of mobility and health needs, and families often end up coordinating care across multiple specialists, school supports, and (later) adult services. That variability is part of why early “you’ll never…” predictions can be both frightening and overly simplistic.

Leyva was born with spina bifida, a condition that affects the spinal cord. In her case, the predictions were stark: she was told she wouldn’t live past 6 or 7 years old. Those early medical expectations weren’t just clinical; they shaped how others might have seen her future—limited, dependent, and defined by what she couldn’t do.

But Leyva’s story in South Florida is, in many ways, a record of refusing that script. Decades later, she is alive, working, and leading. She has walked—something doctors said would never happen. She also graduated college, another milestone that contradicted the assumptions placed on her as a child.

The arc from that initial prognosis to her present-day work is not presented as a simple triumph narrative. It is rooted in the reality that disability can bring complex needs and barriers, especially when families are navigating medical systems, schools, and public benefits. Leyva’s early life illustrates how quickly a diagnosis can become a set of expectations imposed from the outside—and how much effort it can take to push back.

Today, she sits in an office in Coral Springs, in the business she owns, roughly 40 years after those early predictions. The contrast is striking: a child once described in terms of survival odds is now an adult building infrastructure for other people with disabilities to live more fully. Her early medical challenges did not disappear; instead, they became part of the lived experience that informs her work—practical, systems-focused, and grounded in what families actually face when they’re told “no” by professionals who are supposed to help.

The Role of Yessenia’s Mother as an Advocate

Leyva is clear about what made the difference between the dire predictions and the life she ultimately built: her mother. In her telling, her mother wasn’t simply supportive in a general sense—she was an advocate in the most literal, confrontational way, willing to challenge institutions that held power over her daughter’s future.

“She fought with the doctors,” Leyva has said. “She fought legal battles when I was younger. She was an advocate for me in the school system.” That list matters because it shows advocacy as work, not sentiment. It happens in exam rooms, in meetings, and in paperwork-heavy processes where families often feel outmatched.

Advocacy Across Key Systems
A practical picture of what her mother’s advocacy looked like (as Leyva describes it):
1) Medical settings: ask questions, push back on blanket assumptions, and keep pressing for care that matches the child’s real needs.
2) School system: show up to meetings, request supports, and insist on inclusion and high expectations.
3) Legal battles: when systems stall or deny services, pursue formal appeals or legal routes rather than accepting “no” as final.
Checkpoint: the goal isn’t to “win an argument”—it’s to keep doors open (education, services, mobility, independence) while the child grows.

The family’s background added another layer of difficulty. Leyva’s mother is from Ecuador and her father is from Cuba. Like many immigrant families in South Florida, they were hardworking—but navigating complex systems without language fluency or guidance can turn every step into a hurdle. Leyva described it plainly: “So they come, you know, working people but they don’t know the language. They have no guidance.”

That lack of guidance is a quiet but powerful theme in Leyva’s story. Disability services and accommodations can exist on paper, but families still have to find them, understand them, and successfully apply for them. When parents are also dealing with language barriers and unfamiliar bureaucracy, the gap between “available” and “accessible” can widen fast.

Her mother’s advocacy in the school system is especially telling. Education is often where disability becomes a daily negotiation—services, supports, and expectations can determine whether a child is included or sidelined. Leyva’s mother pushed for her daughter’s right to learn and to be treated as someone with potential, not as a problem to manage.

Over time, that example became more than family history; it became a template. Leyva’s later work reflects the same approach: challenge assumptions, translate systems, and insist that people with disabilities deserve opportunities that match their goals. In that sense, her mother’s role wasn’t only to protect her child—it helped create an advocate who would eventually “pay it forward” to others facing the same maze.

Establishing Disability Programs and Training (DPT)

Leyva’s professional mission took a concrete form during the COVID era, when she started her business, Disability Programs and Training—known as DPT. The timing is significant: the pandemic disrupted services, isolated communities, and made it harder for many people to access help. In that environment, a centralized, practical support hub could be the difference between someone staying stuck and someone moving forward.

Leyva describes DPT as “that hub for people with disabilities.” The phrase is more than branding. It signals a response to a common problem: services are often fragmented. A person might need help with employment, benefits, and community connection—but those supports can be scattered across agencies and programs, each with its own requirements and jargon. DPT positions itself as a place where people can start without already knowing the system.

One Stop Support Journey
How the “one stop shop” model works in plain terms:
– Intake: understand the person’s situation (what changed, what they need now, what they want next).
– Navigation: translate what programs/services exist and what each one actually does.
– Referrals + applications: connect to the right places (benefits, personal care, employment supports) and help with the steps.
– Follow-up: check progress, troubleshoot paperwork delays, and adjust the plan as needs change.

The business is based in Coral Springs, and Leyva’s presence there—“sitting in the office of the business she owns”—underscores the shift from being a child whose future was questioned to being an adult building a resource for others. DPT is not framed as charity; it is structured support, created by someone who understands the stakes personally.

Leyva has also described her work in terms of purpose. “I feel like this is my God-given talent,” she said. “This is my purpose that God has given me to now pay it forward to those that need it most.” Whether or not a reader shares that faith language, the underlying point is clear: she sees advocacy as a calling tied to lived experience, not as a side project.

DPT’s creation also reflects how personal history can become institutional knowledge. Leyva watched her parents struggle to navigate systems without language access or guidance. She lived through the consequences of medical pessimism and bureaucratic barriers. DPT, in effect, is her attempt to build the guidance her family lacked—so that others don’t have to start from zero.

In South Florida, where diverse communities often intersect with complex social services, that model is a practical answer to a real-world problem: people can’t benefit from resources they can’t find, understand, or access.

Services Offered by DPT for Individuals with Disabilities

DPT’s work is built around a simple idea: people with disabilities should be able to live life to the fullest, with real access to community, employment, and essential supports. In practice, that means helping clients connect to opportunities and navigate systems that can be intimidating even for people who speak the language fluently and have time to spare.

Support for Work, Benefits, and Community
What DPT helps with (as described in the WSVN profile):
– “Fun-clusion” community events that bring people together
– Job support (help applying and taking steps toward employment)
– Benefits navigation and applications, including Social Security and Medicaid
– Connections to personal care services when day-to-day support is needed
– Vocational rehab enrollment for access to services like counseling and driving lessons

One part of DPT’s approach is community connection through what Leyva calls “fun-clusion” events. The name signals the goal: inclusion that is social, welcoming, and not limited to formal services. For many people with disabilities, isolation can be an unspoken barrier—especially when mobility changes or when someone is newly disabled and unsure where they belong. Events that bring people together can create peer support and a sense of possibility.

DPT also helps people with disabilities apply for jobs. Employment is often framed as a measure of independence, but the process can be complicated by accessibility needs, gaps in work history, or uncertainty about what accommodations are available. DPT’s role, as described, is to help clients take steps toward work rather than leaving them to navigate the process alone.

Another core service is helping people apply for government benefits, including Social Security and Medicaid. These programs can be essential for healthcare access and financial stability, but the application process is widely known for being paperwork-heavy and confusing. Leyva’s clients often arrive without knowing what exists for them.

“They come not knowing what is available for them,” Leyva explained. “When they come and I explain to them how it works, it’s like, ‘Oh.’ Their face lights up because now, I feel I can be productive.” That moment—when confusion turns into clarity—is central to DPT’s value. It’s not only about forms; it’s about restoring agency. Understanding the system can change how someone sees their own future.

DPT’s services, as described, sit at the intersection of practical assistance and empowerment. The goal isn’t to define clients by disability, but to equip them with tools—information, connections, and support—so they can make choices. In a region as large and varied as South Florida, that kind of navigation help can function like a bridge between “resources exist” and “resources actually reach people.”

Client Success Story: Juliet McLean’s Journey

Juliet McLean’s story illustrates how quickly life can change—and how disorienting disability can be when it arrives unexpectedly. McLean said she lived a normal, healthy life until she was 50 years old. Then, in a single morning, everything shifted.

“10 years ago, I got up with a very discomfort in my back,” she recalled, “and within 20 minutes of calling the ambulance, I was unable to walk.” She hasn’t walked since. McLean was diagnosed with a rare neurological disorder that can be caused by a virus. The details matter not because they offer a neat explanation, but because they show how disability can emerge without warning, leaving someone to rebuild their life with little preparation.

From Crisis to Independence
A simple before/after timeline of what changed for Juliet:
– Sudden crisis: back discomfort → ambulance → unable to walk within minutes
– Immediate reality: “I didn’t know where to turn for help” and didn’t know what resources she’d need
– Key connections Leyva made: personal care services + vocational rehab registration (opening counseling and driving lessons)
– Outcomes Juliet described: more confidence and motivation; tried wheelchair basketball; completed 5K races in her wheelchair

In that aftermath, McLean faced a problem that many newly disabled people describe: not knowing where to start. “I didn’t know where to turn for help,” she said. “I didn’t even know what are some of the resources I would even need for myself.” That uncertainty can be as disabling as the physical change itself—because without information, people can’t access services that might improve daily life.

Leyva connected McLean with personal care services, a practical support that can make day-to-day living manageable. She also got McLean registered in a vocational rehab program, opening access to counseling and even driving lessons. McLean’s reaction was blunt and revealing: “Without her, I wouldn’t even know that that exists.”

The point here isn’t that McLean lacked initiative; it’s that systems are often opaque. Programs can be available, but not visible. DPT’s role, through Leyva, was to translate the landscape and connect McLean to supports that matched her needs.

Just as important is what happened after those connections were made. McLean said having someone in her corner helped her regain confidence and motivation. That emotional shift showed up in action: she learned to play wheelchair basketball—something she “never dreamed” she could handle. She also completed 5K races in her wheelchair. “Maybe if I was walking, I wouldn’t do that,” she said, capturing a complicated truth: disability can close doors, but with support and community, it can also lead people to new forms of challenge and achievement.

McLean’s journey is a case study in what advocacy can look like on the ground: not abstract inspiration, but concrete steps—services, programs, training—paired with encouragement that helps someone imagine a bigger life again.

Yessenia’s Advocacy for the Disabled Community

Leyva’s advocacy is rooted in personal history, but it has grown into a broader commitment to the disabled community in South Florida. She has framed her work as a form of passing on what her family fought for when she was young—especially the kind of guidance her parents didn’t have when they were navigating systems in a new language and culture.

Turning Support Into Action
What “advocacy” looks like in Leyva’s day-to-day (based on the story’s examples):
– Navigation: making confusing systems understandable (benefits, programs, eligibility, next steps)
– Connection: linking people to services they didn’t know existed (personal care, vocational rehab)
– Empowerment: helping clients move from “overwhelmed” to “I can be productive” by turning information into action
– Community-building: creating spaces (like “fun-clusion” events) where people can meet peers and rebuild confidence

Her approach is practical and relational. She meets people at the point where they are often overwhelmed: unsure what benefits exist, unsure how to apply, unsure whether employment or training is realistic. DPT’s “one stop shop” model reflects a belief that people shouldn’t have to become experts in bureaucracy just to access basic support.

Leyva also emphasizes empowerment—helping people feel “productive,” as she described it, once they understand how systems work. That word choice is telling. Productivity is often used by society as a measure of worth, and people with disabilities can be unfairly assumed to be dependent or inactive. Leyva’s work pushes back by helping clients access pathways to work and community participation.

Her advocacy includes building spaces for connection through “fun-clusion” events. While benefits and job applications are essential, community is also a resource. Events that bring people together can reduce isolation and create informal networks of advice and encouragement—especially for people who are newly disabled or who have spent years feeling unseen.

Leyva’s faith language—calling her work a “God-given talent” and “purpose”—signals how deeply she identifies with the mission. But the outcomes she describes are tangible: people learn what resources exist, apply for benefits like Social Security and Medicaid, and pursue employment and training opportunities.

She now advocates for more than 75 people. That number is not presented as a statistic to impress; it’s a measure of reach. Each person represents a different story and a different set of needs, and Leyva describes her work in human-scale terms: “One day, one life at a time, one story at a time.”

In a region known for its diversity and rapid growth, disability advocacy can easily become abstract—talk of inclusion without the infrastructure to make it real. Leyva’s model is grounded in direct service and navigation: helping people find the doors that are already there, and showing them how to open them.

Impact of Yessenia’s Work on the Lives of Others

The impact of Leyva’s work shows up most clearly in the before-and-after moments her clients describe: confusion turning into clarity, isolation turning into community, and fear turning into motivation. Her advocacy is not limited to one type of disability or one life stage. It includes people born with disabilities and people who become disabled later in life, like Juliet McLean.

Support Leyva/DPT helps connect Immediate outcome clients describe Longer-term impact it can unlock
Benefits navigation (Social Security, Medicaid) Clearer understanding of what exists and how it works More stable access to healthcare and essential supports
Personal care services Day-to-day life becomes more manageable Greater independence and reduced caregiver strain
Job application support A realistic path toward employment feels possible Income, structure, and a stronger sense of belonging
Vocational rehab enrollment (counseling, driving lessons) Access to training and guidance that was previously “invisible” Expanded mobility options and confidence to pursue goals
Community events (“fun-clusion”) Reduced isolation; peer connection Motivation, shared strategies, and sustained participation

Leyva’s clients often arrive without knowing what support is available. That lack of information can keep people from accessing healthcare coverage, personal care services, or financial stability through benefits. By helping people apply for Social Security and Medicaid, Leyva is addressing foundational needs—supports that can determine whether someone can afford care, equipment, or assistance.

Employment support is another major impact area. Helping people apply for jobs is not simply about income; it can be about identity and belonging. Work can provide structure, social connection, and a sense of contribution. For people who have been told—explicitly or implicitly—that disability limits their options, job support can be a direct challenge to those assumptions.

Then there is the less measurable but equally real impact of community-building. “Fun-clusion” events are designed to connect people, and connection can change what someone believes is possible. McLean’s story offers a vivid example: once she had support and access to programs, she pursued wheelchair basketball and completed 5K races. Those achievements are personal, but they also ripple outward—showing other people with disabilities that new goals can be within reach.

Leyva’s work also carries an intergenerational dimension. Her mother advocated for her in medical settings, legal battles, and schools. Leyva now provides advocacy to others who may not have that kind of support at home—or whose families, like hers, may be hardworking but unsure how to navigate complex systems.

Advocacy, in this context, is not a slogan. It is time spent explaining how benefits work, helping with applications, connecting clients to personal care services, and registering them for vocational rehab programs that can include counseling and driving lessons. It is also the steady presence of “someone in your corner,” as McLean described—an impact that can be the difference between giving up and trying again.

With more than 75 people in her advocacy circle, Leyva’s influence is multiplied across households, caregivers, and communities—one story at a time, but with cumulative weight.

Future Goals and Vision for Disability Advocacy

Leyva’s stated goal is to equip each person she serves with tools to feel empowered by their disability, not defined by it. That vision is both personal and strategic. It reflects her own life—growing up under dire predictions, then proving that a diagnosis does not dictate the full scope of a person’s future.

Pathways to Lasting Empowerment
A realistic “what’s next” roadmap implied by Leyva’s model:
– Near term: keep helping individuals find benefits, services, and job pathways they can act on right away.
– Mid term: strengthen community connection through recurring “fun-clusion” events so support isn’t only paperwork-based.
– Long term: expand the number of people who can navigate systems confidently—so empowerment spreads beyond any single client relationship.

Her work through DPT suggests a future-oriented model of advocacy that blends services with community. The “one stop shop” concept is, at its core, a vision for accessibility: reducing the friction that keeps people from getting help. If people arrive “not knowing what is available,” then the first step toward empowerment is information—delivered in a way that is understandable and actionable.

Leyva’s approach also implies growth through relationships. She is not only helping individuals fill out forms or enroll in programs; she is building a network where people can connect through “fun-clusion” events and shared experiences. That kind of community infrastructure can outlast any single appointment or application cycle.

Her advocacy for more than 75 people indicates both demand and capacity. The demand is clear: many people need navigation help to access benefits, employment support, and programs like vocational rehab. The capacity is what Leyva is building—an organization that can serve as a consistent point of entry for people who feel lost in the system.

The story also points to a broader vision for disability advocacy in South Florida: one that recognizes the added barriers faced by families who lack language access or guidance. Leyva’s parents were immigrants from Ecuador and Cuba, working hard but navigating without a roadmap. Her future-facing work can be read as an attempt to provide that roadmap to others—especially those who might otherwise be left behind.

Ultimately, Leyva’s vision is not framed in grand policy terms. It is framed in daily practice: “One day, one life at a time, one story at a time.” The future she is working toward is built through those small, repeated acts—helping someone understand what exists, connect to services, and imagine a life that is full, active, and self-directed.

Empowering Change Through Advocacy

The Journey of Yessenia Leyva

Leyva’s journey begins with a medical prognosis that underestimated her life and ends—so far—with her running a business in Coral Springs dedicated to helping others. She was born with spina bifida and told she might not survive childhood. She did. She was told she wouldn’t walk. She has. She was told, implicitly, that certain milestones might be out of reach. She graduated college and built a professional mission around access and empowerment.

Her story matters not because it is exceptional in a feel-good way, but because it reveals how much of disability outcomes depend on advocacy, information, and opportunity. Leyva’s life is a reminder that predictions are not destinies—and that systems can be challenged.

Building a Supportive Community

DPT’s “fun-clusion” events highlight a key insight: support is not only medical or financial. Community is a form of access. When people with disabilities connect, they share strategies, resources, and motivation. They also see each other’s possibilities—like McLean discovering wheelchair basketball and 5K races.

Inclusion, in this model, is active. It is planned, hosted, and sustained. It doesn’t wait for society to become accessible on its own.

The Role of Personal Experience in Advocacy

Leyva’s advocacy is inseparable from her personal experience and her family’s experience. Her parents navigated disability systems while also facing language barriers and a lack of guidance. Her mother fought doctors, legal battles, and school systems. Those experiences taught Leyva what it costs to secure basic rights—and what it means when someone stands beside you.

That lived knowledge becomes a professional asset: she understands the fear, the confusion, and the exhaustion clients bring with them. She also understands the relief that comes when someone finally explains, step by step, what to do next.

Creating Opportunities for Others

The opportunities Leyva helps create are concrete: applying for jobs, Social Security and Medicaid, connecting to personal care services, and registering for vocational rehab programs that can include counseling and driving lessons. These are not abstract “resources.” They are pathways that can change daily life.

McLean’s story shows what opportunity can look like after a life-altering diagnosis: not just surviving, but pursuing sports, races, and new goals—because someone helped her find the supports she didn’t know existed.

The Importance of Representation

Leyva’s presence as a business owner and advocate in South Florida is itself a form of representation. She embodies a message that people with disabilities can lead, build, and guide others. Her story also reflects the diversity of the region—an Ecuadorian and Cuban family navigating American systems, then turning that experience into a service model for others.

Representation here is not about visibility alone. It is about credibility and trust: clients see someone who understands the system and understands them.

Future Directions for Disability Advocacy

Leyva’s work points toward an advocacy future centered on navigation, empowerment, and community connection. The need is persistent: people continue to face barriers in accessing benefits, employment support, and programs that could expand independence. Leyva’s response is to make the system legible—so that people can move through it with confidence.

Her guiding idea remains consistent: disability should not be the boundary of a person’s life. With the right tools and support, it can be one part of a full identity—one that includes work, community, and ambition.

This article reflects publicly available information from a single televised news feature at the time of writing. Program names, eligibility rules, and available services may change and can vary by individual circumstances. For the most current details, confirm offerings directly with DPT or comparable providers.

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