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BUILDERS OF MINNESOTA | Jakesa Thompson Is Building a Place at the Table for Everyone
From childhood hardship and a career devoted to health equity to a mother's determination to help her son share in life's celebrations, the founder of Happy Plate is building a Minnesota business around the meaning of inclusion.
By Tom Akaolisa, Editor | MinneapoliMedia
MINNEAPOLIS, MN (October 13, 2026). There were celebrations when Jakesa Thompson's son Idris could not have what the other children were eating.
His baseball teammates would gather around a birthday cake or enjoy treats after a game. Someone would pass out cookies, cupcakes or ice cream. For most of the children, there was little reason to think about what was being served. Idris, whose severe food allergies made many ordinary desserts unsafe for him, had to watch.
His mother understood the medical reasons. She was a nurse, accustomed to helping people navigate health conditions and make informed decisions about their care. But knowing why her son could not eat something did little to ease the difficulty of watching him feel excluded.
"It's heartbreaking," Thompson recalled during a September 9 interview with MinneapoliMedia. "It's just isolating, right, to not be included."
Idris had been diagnosed at an early age with allergies to dairy, eggs, nuts, wheat and soy. According to his mother, he eventually outgrew the wheat and soy allergies, but dairy, eggs and nuts continued to present the risk of anaphylaxis, a potentially life-threatening allergic reaction.
At first, Thompson tried to find suitable alternatives in stores. Some products were marketed as gluten-free but contained eggs. Others avoided certain ingredients but bore little resemblance to what the other children were enjoying.
If everyone else was having cake, she did not want Idris to be handed something entirely different.
She began bringing her own desserts to the celebrations. When the team had cupcakes, Idris could have a cupcake. When the other children had cookies, he could have a cookie. His treat might come from a separate container, but he could participate without having to settle for something that looked or tasted markedly different.
Those efforts eventually became Happy Plate, a Minneapolis-area dessert business Thompson launched in the summer of 2026.
The business is young. Its founder is still learning the demands of entrepreneurship, balancing production with a health-care career and raising her children. But the reasons behind Happy Plate reach considerably further into Thompson's life than the baseball field.
Long before she became a nurse practitioner, a mother or a business owner, Thompson was a girl who knew what it meant to feel outside the experiences other children shared.
And long before she began baking for customers, she had learned something about the difference that another person's willingness to care could make.
A Childhood That Required Her to Grow Up Early
Thompson was born in Waterloo, Iowa, and spent her early childhood there before moving to Minnesota with her mother when she was approximately 10 years old.
The move did not bring immediate stability. The family had limited resources, and Thompson remembers experiencing homelessness for a period.
She spoke about those years without attempting to turn them into an inspirational account. Her recollections were matter-of-fact, although their influence on her adult life remains evident.
"I think just learning to appreciate the things that we have and not necessarily wanting more beyond the basic necessities," she said, reflecting on the circumstances in which she grew up.
That outlook continues to shape her relationship with money and material possessions.
"I try to live within my means," she explained, describing an effort to appreciate what she has rather than continually wishing for more.
Her childhood also included difficult family relationships. Thompson said her father was absent for much of her upbringing and that she is estranged from many relatives.
Asked whether someone had played a particularly important role in shaping her early life, she paused.
"I didn't have the greatest childhood," she said.
Much of what she learned about relationships and adulthood, she explained, came from observation, friendships and her own experiences rather than consistent guidance at home.
Then, during her later teenage years, a Ghanaian family became an important presence in her life.
Thompson was approximately 16 or 17 when the family took her in. She remembers receiving affection, practical support, honesty and, when necessary, the kind of firm guidance she had been missing.
"They took me in," she recalled, explaining that they recognized her need for "some care, some love, some tough love at times."
She remains grateful for their influence.
"If not for them," she said, "I would have absolutely been on a different trajectory."
Thompson did not elaborate on every circumstance surrounding that period, and the significance of the family's involvement does not require speculation about what might otherwise have happened.
What she made clear was that their presence mattered profoundly.
Her memories of childhood also include smaller experiences that acquired new significance after she became a parent.
Growing up, she did not celebrate Halloween. While other children wore costumes and participated in the festivities, she was among those who did not.
She remembered that experience while describing the difficulty of watching Idris miss out on celebrations involving food.
The circumstances were different, but she recognized the feeling.
It was an understanding that would eventually influence the business she created.
Finding Her Way Into a Profession of Care
Thompson began working at 15, an age when employment carried the excitement of independence as well as responsibility.
She remembers feeling that she was finally putting on her "big girl pants."
One of her early jobs was at McDonald's, where she worked alongside a young man she had met in high school. They would not begin dating until after college, but he would eventually become her husband.
Her route into health care was neither immediate nor straightforward.
She earned a bachelor's degree in sociology and initially considered a career in social work. She also spent time working in adult foster care, helping vulnerable adults, including people living with severe and persistent mental illness.
The work brought her into close contact with people who depended on others for assistance with daily life and personal well-being.
It also introduced her to colleagues and mentors who recognized an aptitude she had not yet fully considered.
Some encouraged her to become a nurse.
She listened.
Thompson trained as a registered nurse and began building a career in health care. Over time, however, she found herself wanting greater involvement in the decisions affecting her patients.
Nurses play essential roles in patient education and care, but Thompson wanted to expand her clinical responsibilities and participate more directly in developing treatment plans.
She described that ambition as wanting to be "on the other side of the table."
By then, she was also building a family.
The unpredictable hours of nursing work could be difficult to reconcile with raising young children. Depending on the position, shifts might begin before sunrise or continue overnight.
Thompson wanted a more consistent schedule and additional time with her children. She took a job in insurance and continued her education while managing the demands of family life.
Eventually, she became a family nurse practitioner.
Today, Thompson works at the University of Minnesota's Community-University Health Care Center, known as CUHCC, in Minneapolis. Her professional interests include primary care, prevention, health promotion and improving care for Black and brown communities and people who are uninsured or underinsured.
Her educational background includes the University of South Alabama's dual Family Nurse Practitioner and Emergency Nurse Practitioner program.
CUHCC is a federally qualified health center serving patients with varied incomes and insurance circumstances. Its services extend beyond conventional medical appointments to include mental health, dental care and other forms of support.
For Thompson, the appeal of primary care lies partly in the opportunity to build relationships and understand the circumstances influencing patients' health.
A diagnosis alone seldom tells the complete story.
A person managing diabetes may understand the importance of a particular diet but lack reliable access to appropriate food. Someone with hypertension may need medication but struggle to afford it. Transportation difficulties can prevent patients from attending appointments even when they want treatment.
Thompson encounters such barriers regularly.
"I mean, every day I experience patients who have difficulty accessing health care," she said, citing transportation, finances, medication and food as recurring obstacles.
Those experiences have strengthened her belief that effective medical care requires attention to the conditions in which people live.
The Importance of Seeing Someone Who Understands
Thompson's interest in health equity developed through professional experience, but the COVID-19 pandemic gave it additional urgency.
As vaccines became widely discussed and promoted, she noticed what she considered insufficient representation of Black and brown people in some of the public messaging she encountered.
She also heard uncertainty from people around her.
"We're just not sure if this is for us," she recalled hearing.
For Thompson, those reactions reflected concerns that could not be addressed solely by repeating medical recommendations. Historical mistreatment in health care, cultural experiences and trust in institutions all affected how people understood the messages they were receiving.
The pandemic strengthened her determination to pursue advanced nursing education and become a clinician who could help patients make informed decisions.
She wanted people from communities that had sometimes felt overlooked or poorly understood in medical settings to recognize that health care belonged to them, too.
"I need to be a representative," she explained, "or at least a familiar or similar face for other Black and brown people."
She was careful not to suggest that clinicians from different backgrounds cannot provide excellent care.
Her point was that familiarity, cultural understanding and representation can make a meaningful difference in how comfortable some patients feel seeking help.
Within her own extended family and community, Thompson had also observed people delaying routine medical care, relying heavily on home remedies or keeping health conditions private.
Traditional remedies and family advice could be part of those experiences, but she worried about situations in which serious conditions went unmonitored or untreated.
She wanted to help people ask questions, understand their options and take an active role in their health.
The work continues to challenge her understanding of what care requires.
It has also influenced the way she thinks about parenting.
Motherhood and the Responsibility to Advocate
When Thompson was asked how motherhood had changed her, she began with a laugh.
Children, she said, had certainly increased her patience.
"They're needy, they're trying, they're everything," she observed, acknowledging the daily tests that come with raising a family.
But beneath the humor was a serious reflection on responsibility.
Having children meant caring for people who could not yet fully understand their needs or advocate for themselves.
She wanted to protect them, guide them and teach them how to navigate situations they would eventually have to face independently.
Motherhood also influenced her professional life. She believes that raising children has helped her better understand the concerns of other parents and strengthened her willingness to advocate for young patients.
At home, her children have watched her pursue further education and build a business while continuing her professional responsibilities.
Her oldest son, Idris, was 10 at the time of the interview.
He notices the work.
Thompson recalled him telling her, "Mom, you're working really hard," and offering encouragement when he sees how much she has taken on.
For a mother who has spent years balancing education, employment and family responsibilities, those observations carry particular meaning.
"They're little sponges," she said. "Even though I don't think they're observing or paying attention to what I'm doing, they really are."
She wants her children to understand that they do not need to have their entire futures figured out at an early age.
Her own career developed through changes of direction, encouragement from others and a willingness to return to school while managing substantial responsibilities.
She hopes they will learn that uncertainty need not prevent them from pursuing something important.
That lesson would eventually find a practical expression in her kitchen.
The Cupcake That Changed What Was Possible
Idris's allergies were identified when he was young.
For his family, ordinary social occasions required precautions that many other households seldom had to consider.
Birthday parties, team celebrations and gatherings with relatives could involve foods containing ingredients that were unsafe for him.
Thompson searched for commercially available alternatives, but suitable options were not always easy to find.
Some products avoided gluten but contained eggs. Others were free of certain allergens but did not match the desserts being served.
She understood that a substitute could meet a dietary requirement without meeting the emotional need of a child who wanted to participate alongside his friends.
"So if we're having cake, I don't want to bring him cookie dough bites," she explained.
She had been baking since childhood and had developed her skills over many years. Eventually, she began adapting recipes herself.
She believes one of the first desserts she made specifically for Idris was a birthday cupcake.
It was prepared from scratch, using ingredients that included a plant-based egg substitute and a homemade frosting made with plant-based butter and powdered sugar.
The objective was straightforward: make something Idris could safely enjoy under the family's established allergy precautions, without giving up the taste and appearance of a familiar dessert.
He became her first taste tester.
Thompson trusted his judgment partly because children, in her experience, rarely disguise their reactions to food.
If he disliked something, she expected him to say so.
His approval encouraged her to continue experimenting.
Soon she began bringing her desserts to gatherings with relatives and friends.
Sometimes she sought feedback without immediately explaining that she had made the treats herself. She wanted to know whether people genuinely enjoyed them, rather than simply offering compliments because they knew the baker.
After someone praised a dessert, she would reveal that it had been made without dairy, eggs or nuts.
The reactions surprised and encouraged her.
People told her the desserts tasted like something they would expect from a conventional bakery.
She continued making them, adjusting recipes and observing which products people particularly enjoyed.
For some time, it remained an activity she pursued for her family and friends.
Then she began to consider whether other households might benefit from what she had learned.
Her children were hardly alone in navigating food allergies. Other families faced dietary restrictions, preferences and the difficulty of finding appealing desserts that accommodated their needs.
Thompson began to see a possibility for a business.
Happy Plate Begins at Home
Happy Plate launched in the summer of 2026, with Thompson entering an industry she knew as a customer and home baker but was still learning as a business owner.
Her products included cupcakes and cookies made with plant-based ingredient substitutions, with offerings such as vanilla cupcakes, banana pudding cookies, salted chocolate chip cookies, peach cobbler cookies and a gluten-friendly chocolate chip option.
The business operated under Minnesota's cottage food framework, which allows qualifying producers to prepare and sell certain foods from home under applicable requirements.
Thompson's production capacity was modest.
She had one KitchenAid mixer, one oven and a limited number of baking sheets.
Those constraints became more significant when she began preparing for public sales events.
A batch of cookies that was manageable for a family gathering became a different undertaking when she needed enough inventory to serve a crowd.
The work involved far more than baking.
She had to purchase supplies, plan production, organize packaging, prepare labels, calculate costs and make sure she had the equipment necessary to present her products.
The initial investment was greater than she had anticipated.
Her husband became an essential part of the effort, helping her prepare and encouraging her when the workload became difficult.
Thompson found a humorous way to describe his involvement.
"My husband has a part-time job that he didn't apply for," she said.
Behind the joke was her appreciation for the work he had taken on to help Happy Plate get started.
Time management became another challenge.
Her professional responsibilities had not disappeared. Neither had the needs of her children. Baking and preparing for markets had to fit around the rest of her life.
In the days before her first major vendor appearance at NEON Collective Kitchens, she began to appreciate just how much she had underestimated.
She needed a tablecloth, display equipment, containers, product labels and an organized inventory.
Every completed task seemed to reveal another.
She remembered working until approximately 2 a.m. to get everything ready.
By the time she arrived at the event, she was nervous.
The Day She Put Happy Plate Before the Public
Minneapolis Black Business Week, held July 27 through August 2, 2026, gave Thompson an early opportunity to introduce Happy Plate to a broader audience.
She participated in a vendor event at NEON Collective Kitchens, a space connected to the Northside Economic Opportunity Network's work supporting entrepreneurs.
When she entered, other vendors were already setting up.
Looking around, Thompson assumed they were experienced business owners who knew precisely what they were doing.
She feared that her inexperience would be obvious.
"I'm this newbie over here who's probably gonna flop," she remembered thinking.
It did not take long for that impression to change.
Some of the entrepreneurs she met were also participating in their first events. Others had more experience and were willing to share what they had learned.
They exchanged practical advice about approaching customers, presenting products, standing behind their tables and telling the stories of their businesses.
Thompson discovered that uncertainty was not unique to her.
People were learning as they went.
The encouragement mattered, but the response from customers mattered even more.
By the end of the event, she had nearly sold out of her inventory.
She had expected to introduce herself, meet people and perhaps sell some desserts. Instead, she encountered customers who were enthusiastic about the products and interested in the reasons she had created them.
One interaction remained particularly memorable.
A couple of customers purchased her peach cobbler cookie, opened it and tasted it while walking away.
Then they returned.
They wanted three more.
For Thompson, that response was an important confirmation that customers were interested in more than the novelty of an allergy-inclusive product.
They enjoyed the taste.
"It gave me lots of validation," she said, describing both the sales and the encouragement she received.
The experience also changed how she viewed herself as a business owner.
She had arrived wondering whether she belonged among the other entrepreneurs. She left with greater confidence in her products and a better understanding of the work involved in selling them.
Her experience was also noticed beyond the event itself. Public reporting on Minneapolis Black Business Week featured Happy Plate among the businesses participating in the city's entrepreneurship activities, and NEON subsequently highlighted Thompson and her company.
None of that removed the practical challenges of operating a young business.
She still had limited equipment, significant preparation demands and much to learn about costs, production and growth.
But she had evidence that people were willing to buy what she made.
And she had met other business owners willing to help her navigate the process.
What Health Care and Baking Have in Common
At first glance, Thompson's two professional pursuits appear unrelated.
One involves clinical training, patient assessment, chronic disease management and preventive care. The other involves recipes, ovens, ingredient substitutions and the challenge of selling desserts.
Thompson sees a connection in the needs people have that others may overlook.
In health care, she encounters patients whose ability to follow medical advice depends on circumstances that may not be immediately visible.
A patient may struggle with a chronic condition for reasons extending beyond individual choices. Food availability, transportation, finances and access to medication can all influence the outcome.
With Happy Plate, Thompson considers people who arrive at a gathering and discover that the food available to everyone else does not accommodate their needs.
In both settings, she believes it is important to understand the circumstances before making assumptions.
"There's a lot of social determinants of health that are overlooked," she said, explaining that people sometimes assume equal access exists when it does not.
She applies a similar awareness to the dining table.
Someone may have an allergy, a dietary restriction or a personal preference that others have not considered.
"Unless you're experiencing it or know someone experiencing it, you don't know," she observed.
Her ambition for Happy Plate is to offer appealing choices to people whose needs might otherwise be left out of the planning.
That does not make desserts a substitute for medical care, nor does it make every dietary preference equivalent to a serious allergy.
Thompson understands the distinction, particularly because of Idris's history of anaphylaxis.
What connects her work is an interest in circumstances that deserve attention even when they are not obvious to everyone else.
The experience of building Happy Plate has broadened her awareness, she said, both professionally and in her personal roles as a mother, wife and friend.
A Business Still Finding Its Future
Thompson does not describe Happy Plate as an established success.
She is still learning how to manage production, develop the business and determine what growth might look like.
She has experienced encouraging customer reactions, but she also knows the effort required to prepare for a single event.
The limitations of a home kitchen are real. So are the demands of a clinical career and family responsibilities.
Her ambitions remain closely tied to the original reason she started baking for Idris.
She wants Happy Plate to become a brand people can turn to when they want a treat that feels familiar, comforting and enjoyable.
She spoke of desserts that evoke nostalgia and make people feel at home.
Above all, she returned to inclusion.
"I think my biggest reason, or why for doing this, is the inclusion piece," she said.
She wants customers to feel that their needs can be accommodated without compromising flavor.
There is also a practical distinction worth preserving as Happy Plate grows. Products described as plant-based, dairy-free, egg-free or gluten-friendly are not automatically appropriate for every person with a food allergy. Ingredients, preparation practices and potential cross-contact all matter, particularly for customers with severe allergies.
Thompson's own experience as the parent of a child with anaphylaxis makes that responsibility especially relevant to the business she is building.
For now, Happy Plate remains a small operation with a personal origin and an uncertain commercial future.
Thompson is comfortable acknowledging that uncertainty.
She knows the company will require further work, learning and investment.
She also knows why she wants to continue.
The Next Builder
Near the end of the interview, Thompson was invited to participate in a Builders of Minnesota tradition: recommending another person whose work deserves public attention.
She immediately thought of a fellow entrepreneur she had met during Black Business Week at NEON Collective Kitchens.
The business was Snookie Sweets, whose founder was developing desserts with an interest in diabetic-friendly options.
Thompson remembered that they were both new to the vendor event and had shared the nervousness of trying to understand how everything worked.
Their connection had begun with the ordinary uncertainties of first-time entrepreneurship.
She believed the other business owner's work deserved attention, too.
After the interview, Thompson followed through by providing MinneapoliMedia with the company's website, snookie-sweets.com, and additional contact information.
The gesture reflected something she had appreciated during her own first public event: the willingness of people who are building businesses to make room for others who are still finding their way.
What Idris Already Understands
When Thompson was asked what she hoped Idris would understand about Happy Plate when he grew older, she explained that he already understood more than she might have expected.
He knows that his experiences helped inspire the business.
He wants to participate in its development.
He even has an official title.
Idris is Happy Plate's President of Consumer Quality.
It is an appropriate appointment for the boy who served as his mother's first taste tester and whose reactions helped guide her earliest baking experiments.
According to Thompson, he has already expressed an interest in taking over the company when she becomes too old to run it.
She laughed about that possibility.
But when the conversation turned to what she truly wanted him to learn, her answer had little to do with ownership, expansion or financial success.
"I think first, like, knowing that I love him deeply," she said.
She wanted him to understand that she would advocate for him, that his needs mattered, and that the business existed because she had wanted to do something about an experience that caused him pain.
"I created this for him, because of him and through him," she explained.
She also hoped he would remember the work involved.
He had seen her studying, building a professional career, baking, preparing for events and managing the difficulties of entrepreneurship.
She wanted those experiences to teach him that meaningful goals require dedication and persistence, even when the path is uncertain.
For a child who once had to watch his teammates enjoy desserts he could not safely share, Happy Plate has already changed something.
His mother can now bring him a treat made with his needs in mind.
He has become involved in the work that grew from those experiences.
And he is watching the woman who built it continue to learn.
Thompson does not know where Happy Plate will ultimately lead. She is still balancing her patients, her family, her kitchen and a business that is only beginning to establish itself.
But Idris already knows why she started.
He has watched her work. He has tasted what she makes. He has encouraged her when the hours are long.
And when the time comes for the next celebration, his mother wants him to have something he can enjoy alongside everyone else.
For Jakesa Thompson, that remains reason enough to keep baking.
About Happy Plate: Happy Plate is a Minnesota-based allergy-inclusive dessert business founded by Jakesa Thompson. Learn more at www.happyplatemn.com. Customers with food allergies should confirm current ingredients, preparation practices and suitability directly with the business before purchasing.
About Builders of Minnesota: A MinneapoliMedia long-form interview series featuring the people whose work, service, ideas and determination are contributing to communities across Minnesota.
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