I was born in India and raised in the Pacific Northwest, the first of three adopted children in a loving but culturally unfamiliar white American family. From the start, my life was shaped by unanswered questions: Where did I come from? Who had I lost? Did anyone wonder where I had gone?

My earliest memories include imagining the landscapes of my country of origin, trying to fill in the gaps left by silence and separation. Like many transracial adoptees, I struggled to navigate a world where my identity didn’t quite fit. The unfamiliar climate, food, health challenges, and well-meaning but invasive questions from strangers left me longing for belonging without the tools to explain myself.
Over time, I began to reclaim my voice and my identity. Education opened doors to advocacy and counseling work with nonprofits and local hospitals—spaces where I could support and empower others from diverse backgrounds. Twenty years later, this work remains at the heart of who I am.
Beyond my career, I’ve found joy and healing in creative expression. Ceramics and photography fuel my artistic side. Music, cooking, and the Outdoors bring me comfort and connection. I became a swimmer—an unexpected passion and source of strength. And I’m never far from a good hike or quiet time with my cat.

Motherhood has grounded me in ways I never anticipated. Now a mother of three, I carry my story forward with greater peace and perspective, even as some pieces remain out of reach. I may never know who led me through the gates of the International Mission of Hope Society (IMH), or what path brought me to that orphanage in the first place—but I know this: my journey is far from over.

Today, my search for identity has transformed into a deeper exploration of ancestry and cultural belonging. I’m preparing to return to India, not only for myself, but to stand in solidarity with fellow adoptees seeking answers of their own. Together, we are writing a new chapter—rooted in reflection, resilience, and the power of coming home.