Our founder's journey

Written by Noah Roberts, Founder of The Corina Mae Foundation

Growing up, my mother, Corina Mae, was the strongest person I knew. She spent much of her life in a wheelchair, yet she carried herself with dignity, humor, and a kind of quiet courage that shaped everything I am today. But behind her strength were real challenges — pain, mobility barriers, medical complications, and a world that often misunderstood her. I didn’t just witness her struggles; I lived them with her.

Corina Mae Thompson (Soares) - The strength behind this foundation.

From her strength to my story

What many people don’t know is that I faced my own medical battles too. From a young age, I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. While other kids were running and playing, I was learning how to manage pain, stiffness, and fatigue. I spent days stuck in bed, unable to move. I endured weekly shots, IV infusions, and more surgeries than most people have in a lifetime. By the time I turned 26, I had already undergone twenty surgeries.

My mother and I were connected not just by love, but by shared struggle. We understood each other’s pain without needing to explain it. When she hurt, I felt it. When I hurt, she held me through it — even when her own body was failing her. We were each other’s strength in a world that didn’t always understand what disability truly looks like.

Growing up disabled in Alabama wasn’t easy. I saw how people looked at my mother. I saw how they looked at me. I saw the assumptions, the judgment, the lack of compassion. I saw how often disabled individuals are dismissed, overlooked, or treated as less capable. And I saw how hard my mother fought to protect me from that — even when she couldn’t protect herself.

Her strength wasn't loud - it was steady, quiet, and constant. 

When my mother passed on December 23, 2020, everything changed. Losing her felt like losing the one person who understood my journey completely. But even in that grief, I felt her strength pushing me forward. I realized that the challenges we faced together weren’t just our story — they were the story of so many disabled individuals and families across Alabama.

I knew I couldn’t let her legacy fade. I knew I couldn’t stay silent about what we lived through. I knew I had to turn our pain into purpose.

That’s why I created The Corina Mae Foundation.

This foundation is built from both of our experiences — her battles, my battles, and the love that carried us through them. It exists to create understanding where there is ignorance, compassion where there is judgment, and support where there is silence. It exists so that no disabled person or family ever feels alone, misunderstood, or unseen.

Everything I do here is for her. Everything I build is because of her. And every step forward is a continuation of the strength we shared — a strength that now lives on through this foundation.