The Frustration of Searching for Answers

If you’ve ever lived with a chronic condition that’s triggered by food, you know how exhausting it is to second-guess every meal. The cycle of uncertainty leads to constant late-night Googling—“Is plantain safe for GERD?” “Can I eat egusi soup without triggering reflux?” “Is palm oil an acid reflux trigger?” I became obsessed with finding answers, but the internet didn’t have many for me. Most nutrition advice was designed for a Western diet, leaving little room for foods from my Nigerian heritage. If the answer wasn’t a flat-out “NO,” it was an unhelpful “it depends,” with no guidance on how I could adapt my diet without sacrificing my culture.

When I was first diagnosed with GERD (Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease), my doctor’s advice was simple: “Just Google a list of trigger foods and avoid spicy or seasoned foods.” That was it. I remember sitting there, stunned. I had grown up eating bold, flavorful Nigerian meals, meals that weren’t just food but a connection to home, family, and identity. The idea of cutting out everything remotely spicy, seasoned, or rich felt impossible. I left that appointment without a real plan, just a vague instruction to avoid food I loved.

Even worse, instead of working with me to understand what was triggering my symptoms or helping me manage my nutrition, the default recommendation was prescription medication. Like many people with GERD, I was given proton pump inhibitors (PPIs) almost immediately. These medications suppress stomach acid but don’t address why acid reflux is happening in the first place. The underlying issues—like food sensitivities, gut microbiome imbalances, or stress-induced symptoms—were completely ignored. Meanwhile, long-term use of PPIs comes with serious side effects, including nutrient deficiencies, gut dysbiosis, and even increased risk of certain infections.

This is a pattern across healthcare. Instead of looking at nutrition as a primary tool for healing, the standard approach is often to prescribe medication first, ask deeper questions later—if at all. While medications have their place, they are too often handed out as the default solution while patients are left struggling to figure out their diet on their own.

A System That Doesn’t Work for Everyone

Determined to figure things out, I started tracking everything I ate. I created spreadsheets, journaled symptoms, and experimented with different elimination diets, hoping to identify what worked for me. But it was overwhelming. One day, I’d eat something and feel fine, and the next, the same meal would trigger reflux. I scoured forums, read research papers, and even consulted with dietitians, hoping for clarity. But even then, the advice felt rigid and impractical—suggesting I replace my meals with plain grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and whole wheat bread.

That’s when I realized the fundamental flaw in mainstream nutrition: it treats people like they’re all the same. More than 60% of Americans have at least one chronic disease - the vast majority of which are diet related, and the burden is even greater for Black and Brown communities. Black Americans are 54% more likely to die from heart disease, yet standard heart-healthy diets often ignore culturally significant foods.

Take the USDA MyPlate model, for example. It presents a "balanced plate" with vegetables, protein, grains, and dairy—but how does this apply to someone eating yam fufu and egusi soup? Does that count as grains and vegetables? Is the palm oil in the soup considered "healthy" or "unhealthy" under these guidelines? The way food is categorized in Western nutrition models makes it hard to apply to non-Western meals, leaving people to either guess or give up trying altogether.

Even when I sought professional help, the advice remained the same. I was told to cut out all spices, tomatoes, onions, spicy food, and oils—basically everything that made Nigerian food what it was. The elimination diets I tried left me feeling isolated, frustrated, and eventually depressed. And the irony? Stress and anxiety directly impact gut health. The emotional toll of restrictive eating was likely aggravating my symptoms even more. I wanted to eat food that made me feel good, but I also wanted to eat food that felt familiar, food that connected me to my roots.

The process of finding a dietitian was just as frustrating. It took time, effort, and money—some of my nutrition counseling was covered by insurance, but other sessions cost hundreds of dollars out of pocket. And even then, I still didn’t get the help I needed. While dietitians play an important role in healthcare, the field has a diversity problem. Less than 13% of dietitians in the United States are of a racial or ethnic minority group, and only 2.6% are Black. Many aren’t trained to provide guidance that accommodates non-Western food traditions. This isn’t a failure on their part—it’s a failure of the system. When healthcare professionals are only taught within a Western framework, patients from diverse backgrounds are left to figure things out on their own.

The Information Gap: Too Much Research, Not Enough Personalization

At one point, I thought I could solve my nutrition struggles by learning as much as possible about GERD and dietary management. I dug through scientific research, clinical guidelines, and online resources, thinking that if I understood the science, I could create a plan that worked for me. But that’s where another major issue became clear—the overwhelming amount of information without clear guidance on how to apply it to my personal health profile.

I found research papers about gut microbiome interactions, acid reflux triggers, and food intolerances, but how was I supposed to interpret that for my specific symptoms? Some papers contradicted each other. Some said a specific food was “bad,” while others claimed it had protective effects. Everything felt like a guessing game.

This wasn’t just frustrating—it was inefficient.

Eventually, I realized I could use AI to help me make sense of all this information. I started plugging research into large language models, asking it to summarize key takeaways, analyze trends, and even cross-check findings. I fed it my personal food logs and symptom journals to try and see if there were hidden patterns I wasn’t recognizing. It was clunky, messy, and required a lot of manual work—but for the first time, I felt like I was getting closer to real insights.

I wasn’t just trying to figure out what foods might be good or bad for me—I was trying to understand why and how that information applied to me, personally. That’s when I realized that nutrition guidance shouldn’t just tell people what to eat—it should help them understand the science behind it.

The Opportunity with AI: A Nutrition Companion That Understands You

Imagine a world where you don’t have to Google every meal, where you don’t have to eliminate your culture from your diet just to manage your health. AI has the power to change this.

Instead of just generating a list of “safe” or “unsafe” foods, an AI-powered nutrition companion could:

Analyze research and cross-check it with your unique health profile.

• Interpret data from food logs and symptom tracking to provide insights, not just suggestions.

• Recognize cultural food preferences and provide adaptations rather than aggressive eliminations.

• Generate personalized recipes to make staple meals healthier without stripping them of flavor and identity.

When I started experimenting with AI, I used it to rework recipes—modifying jollof rice by replacing tomatoes and jalapeños with carrots while maintaining its bold flavors. This is what nutrition should be—adaptive, culturally aware, and truly personalized.

How Flourish AI is Fixing This

At Flourish AI, we’re creating a new framework for truly personalized, culturally relevant nutrition care:

• A curated database of research-backed nutrition insights tailored to specific chronic conditions.

• An AI companion that’s trained on your cultural preferences & symptoms—learning from your body in real time.

• Guidance that adapts over time, helping users experiment with food as medicine while keeping their staple foods on the plate.

• Data that enhances provider support—Flourish AI doesn’t replace dietitians or healthcare professionals; instead, it provides users with deeper insights that can be shared with their providers for more meaningful, personalized care.

Instead of forcing people to Westernize their diets, we’re creating a tool that respects cultural identity while supporting better health.

Final Thoughts: Nutrition Should Work for You, Not Against You

People deserve better than generic advice that ignores their culture, preferences, and unique health challenges. The future of nutrition isn’t just personalized—it’s culturally intelligent.

What cultural foods have you struggled to fit into mainstream nutrition advice? Please share your comments with us, and if you want to help shape the future of AI-powered, culturally inclusive nutrition, join our waitlist at Flourish AI. Let’s build something better—together!