For many, “Finding Joi” is simply the title of a memoir or a moment captured in words. But for me, Finding Joi is a lived experience—a continuous journey of becoming, healing, and walking in purpose. It’s a personal commitment to show up fully in every space I occupy, whether that’s advocating for adoptive families, educating the next generation, or modeling confidence and identity on the runway. These aren't separate paths. They are all expressions of the same calling.

🌱 Advocacy Rooted in Lived Experience
My advocacy work was born from truth—raw, often unspoken truths about adoption, trauma, and belonging. As an adoptee and now an advocate, I use my platform to normalize conversations that families, schools, and communities too often avoid. Through Finding Joi, I amplify voices that are rarely heard—especially the voices of adoptive families navigating school systems, identity formation, and social dynamics.

This isn’t performative work. It’s personal. It’s about creating the kind of support I once needed and helping others feel seen, understood, and empowered to speak.

🎓 Education as a Bridge to Belonging
As a lifelong educator and doctoral candidate, my research and professional work focus on bridging the gaps that exist in our school systems—gaps that leave adoptive and foster children underserved and misunderstood. From teacher training to parent workshops, I’ve made it my mission to build adoption-sensitive, trauma-informed educational environments.

Through Finding Joi, I am not only writing a personal story but also helping to rewrite the narratives of families who deserve better from our schools. Education is advocacy, too. It's where systems can change—if only we listen.

💃🏽 Modeling Purpose, Not Just Fashion
Modeling might seem like a different world entirely, but for me, it’s yet another avenue to express identity, strength, and visibility. As a mature model and creative spirit, I use the runway and the lens to show that beauty exists at every age, every stage, and every story. In many ways, modeling is a metaphor for reclaiming self-image—something that matters deeply for anyone who’s ever questioned where they belong.

It’s not just about what I wear—it’s about what I represent. That same spirit of belonging and self-acceptance that runs through my advocacy and educational work also shows up when I walk with confidence, style, and purpose.

💜 One Umbrella, One Message: Finding Joi
Every piece of this journey—advocacy, education, modeling—exists under the umbrella of Finding Joi. They are different chapters of the same story. Whether I’m leading a workshop, hosting a fashion event, mentoring educators, or speaking at a conference, I’m still Finding Joi. I’m still reminding others—and myself—that purpose is layered, identity is multifaceted, and healing is ongoing.

So when you follow me on Instagram, see me on a stage, or read my work, you’re not just witnessing a brand. You’re stepping into a story. One that’s rooted in transparency, resilience, creativity, and a deep belief in what’s possible when we all feel like we belong. 

#FindingJoi #AdoptionAdvocate #TraumaInformedEducation #RepresentationMatters #BelongingMatters #ModelingWithPurpose #AdoptiveFamiliesMatter #LiveYourTruth #BeautyInEveryStage #EducateToAdvocate​

In a previous article, I wrote about the critical importance of adoptees accessing their medical history. At the time, I was navigating a deeply personal and complex health journey involving two mammograms, a follow-up ultrasound, and a breast MRI. These tests raised concerns that led to a biopsy, the placement of a SaviScout marker, and eventually the surgical removal of distorted breast tissue. At every stage, one question loomed large: What is your family’s medical history?
As an adoptee, the answer to that question was not always within reach. But what I came to understand—through persistent efforts and reconnections—is that having access to this information can significantly alter the course of one’s medical care. In my case, being able to contact biological family members and piece together the health history of aunts, uncles, grandparents, and great-aunts and uncles played a crucial role in guiding both my physicians’ decisions and my own.
When I finally located my birth mother and learned more about her medical background, the focus shifted to genetic risk—specifically the possibility of a hereditary breast cancer risk. The BRCA gene came up in nearly every medical conversation. While consumer DNA testing platforms provided some preliminary insight, they were not comprehensive enough to rule out the full range of BRCA mutations. Clinical genetic testing was necessary to obtain a full and reliable picture of my risk.
The tissue that was removed from my breast was ultimately found to be benign. But the questions did not end there. Why did the tissue form in such an unusual way? Why was it so difficult to interpret through imaging? These lingering uncertainties are compounded by a strong familial history of cancer, even in the absence of a BRCA mutation. As a result, I will remain in a long-term monitoring protocol—something I am at peace with, knowing the risks and what’s at stake.
This journey has reinforced for me the importance of intergenerational communication around health. Whether one is adopted or not, silence surrounding family health history can have serious consequences. Families—biological and otherwise—must prioritize honest, age-appropriate conversations about hereditary conditions, known diagnoses, and patterns that could inform preventive care. For adoptees, these conversations are not just helpful; they are essential. But they require access, openness, and a cultural shift toward transparency in adoption practices and beyond.
Science and technology have indeed opened powerful doors. Gene sequencing, tumor profiling, and hereditary cancer panels have given many of us the tools to assess risk and take preventive action. But none of these tools can replace the knowledge that comes from lived family experiences and shared medical narratives.
One of the greatest gifts we can give future generations is the truth about our health. Whether that truth includes cancer diagnoses, autoimmune conditions, mental health challenges, or rare genetic disorders, documenting and sharing this information equips our children and grandchildren to advocate for themselves more effectively. It gives them context. It gives them power.
For adoptees, the right to know is not a luxury—it is a matter of life and health. And for all families, the responsibility to share is not just about the present; it’s an act of love and protection for those who come after us.
Let this be a call for greater openness, greater compassion, and greater urgency in telling the medical stories that too often go untold.
#adoption, #adopteehealth, #medicalhistorymatters, #breastcancerawareness, #BRCAgene, #genetictesting, #adoptionadvocacy, #familyhealthhistory, #healthtransparency, #cancerprevention, #knowyourroots

The Weight of the Unknown: Adoptees and the Search for Medical HistoryA health scare is never something we wish for, yet it can force us to confront realities we’ve spent years avoiding. For adoptees, medical history—or the lack of it—adds an extra layer of complexity to an already stressful situation.

For years, I dreaded the start of any doctor’s appointment. Whether it was the nurse taking vitals, the nurse practitioner reviewing my chart, or the doctor themselves, the dreaded question would always come: "Tell me about your medical history." It didn’t matter how many times I had written “N/A,” “Adopted,” or even “I don’t know” on the intake forms. They always asked.

I didn’t know it. Never knew it.

And even when I finally worked up the nerve to request my non-identifying medical information, when I saved the money to pay the fees (because of course, this information isn’t free), the response I received was vague at best: "Parents' health—Good." What does that even mean? “Good” in their twenties? “Good” with no known conditions? “Good” with no context about family history? That single word--Good—was supposed to serve as my family medical record.

The Complicated Reality of ReunionWhen reunion came, I thought medical clarity would finally come with it. I was wrong. Finding biological family does not automatically mean access to answers—especially medical ones. There are so many barriers:

• The passage of time: Some relatives have passed on, taking their health history with them.
• Family silence: Not everyone in the family is open about their health.
• The emotional toll: Learning about family medical history is overwhelming—especially when you realize that history now applies to you.

And that last part? That’s the kicker.

When you grow up without medical history, you live in a space of not knowing. And while that space is frustrating, there is a strange comfort in it. But once you do get access to information, it can feel like you’ve been hit with a truck. Suddenly, you’re looking at reports, conditions, and illnesses from people you’ve never met—people whose DNA is now an insight into your future health.

It’s a lot to process.

From the Unknown to the Unwanted: Internalizing the InformationThere is an odd reality in going from having no medical history to suddenly having too much.
For years, I didn’t know. And now? Now, I almost wish I didn’t. The weight of knowing is heavier than I expected. Suddenly, I’m looking at risks, probabilities, and trends that impact me—and, more importantly, my children. Because as much as I might struggle with this newfound knowledge, I know that the responsible thing is to document it, process it, and pass it on.

For them.
Because I remember every doctor’s visit for my daughters—how I could only give them half of their medical history. At least I had their dad’s side, but that didn’t make it any less painful to have to say, over and over again, “I don’t know.”
So now, I am working on a family medical chart. I am documenting what I have. I am inputting it into the doctor’s system. Because if I have to explain this history one more time, I want to be able to just pull up my notes and say, “Here. This is what I know.”

What Information Should Adoptees Gather?If you are an adoptee and have access to any medical information, here are the key details you should try to obtain:

1. Immediate Family Health History – Parents, grandparents, siblings (if known).
2. Genetic Conditions – Any hereditary diseases or conditions that run in the family.
3. Major Illnesses – Cancer, heart disease, diabetes, autoimmune diseases.
4. Mental Health History – Depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia.
5. Lifestyle & Environmental Factors – Smoking, substance use, high-risk behaviors.
6. Causes of Death – Knowing what past family members died from can help identify health risks.
7. Reproductive & Pregnancy History – Issues related to pregnancy, miscarriages, fertility, or genetic conditions.

Tips for Processing Medical Information as an Adoptee

• Give yourself grace. Learning about your medical history can bring up intense emotions—fear, sadness, even anger. Allow yourself time to process it.
• Seek support. You don’t have to do this alone. Whether through therapy, an adoptee support group, or close friends, find a space to talk about your feelings.
• Document what you learn. Start a medical history document for yourself and your children (if applicable). Even if it’s incomplete, it’s better than nothing.
• Communicate with your doctor. Share what you know, but also explain what you don’t. They can help assess risks and guide preventative care.
• Understand that reunion doesn’t mean resolution. Finding biological family may provide some answers, but it doesn’t erase the years of unknowns. Healing is still a process.

The Lifelong Puzzle of AdoptionAs my friend Tom once told me, “Joi, I’m 17 years into my reunion, and we haven’t fully scratched the surface.”

That blew my mind. It also lifted the weight of expectation—because it reminded me that this is a journey.

Adoption is a lifelong puzzle. Medical history is just one of its many pieces.

And now, even as I try to wrap my mind around the health realities of people I never knew, I remind myself that knowledge—no matter how overwhelming—is power. Because for the first time, I can walk into a doctor’s office and say, "Here’s what I know."
​
And that? That’s a step forward.