Her past credits include four seasons of 13 Reasons Why (Netflix), the NAACP-nominated comedy Unprisoned (Hulu), and Home Before Dark (Apple TV+), made with Jon M. Chu and the team behind Wicked. She served as the originating producer of HBO’s recently released Eyes on the Prize 3, continuing Henry Hampton’s civil rights legacy with director Dawn Porter. A leading voice at the intersection of entertainment and social impact, Joy partners with policymakers, academics, and non-profits on youth mental health, justice reform, and inclusive storytelling.
We acquired the rights to the Little House on the Prairie books in the middle of the pandemic—at a time when I was asking myself what stories matter when everything else falls away. Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote these books during the Great Depression as a reminder that even in poverty and isolation, there can be love, joy, and survival. These stories tend to find new life during hard times, and this moment is no exception.
What excites me about this adaptation is how we’re honoring the legacy while telling a more complete story. We partnered with the Friendly family—whose father made the original series—and together we’re embracing that loyal audience while offering something complex and historically relevant to a modern audience. Laura once said, 'All that I told is true, but it is not the whole truth.' That was my North Star when assembling the team that could bring a new vision to Little House. Rebecca Sonnenshine’s adaptation is grounded in history and research, emotionally rich and cinematic, and intentionally includes perspectives that were previously untold—including the Osage community in Kansas at that time.
It’s no secret that since the strikes, budgets are tighter, timelines shorter, and everyone is expected to do more with less. We are all fighting to keep production in Los Angeles and it’s become financially impossible to compete with tax credits all over the world. The upside may be that it’s becoming clearer how essential strong producers are—those who can hold the creative vision, protect talent, and still deliver on budget.
That’s what my colleagues and I at Producers United are fighting to highlight. Career producers often carry a show on our backs for years, financing development and holding the vision during creative turnover. And yet, we’re usually the last ones paid and the first asked to cut our fees because we don’t have union protections. With the contraction, overhead deals are harder to come by so it is a real challenge to maintain the workforce pipeline and “produce producers” like our mentors did for us. We have to think even more strategically about building stories that will live beyond the screen and sustain jobs for all the talented people who deserve work in our industry.
Every project starts with two questions: Why now? And why me? I have to know the story belongs in the world, and that I’m the right person to shepherd it. That’s what keeps me going—when the story feels urgent and necessary and will make a group of people feel seen.
For instance, I’ve been developing The Bell Jar. Re-reading it as a mother reminded me how deeply I related to Esther in college. She was a bright, complicated scholarship student who felt like an outsider—grieving, ambitious, and ahead of her time. Sylvia Plath gave her an inner world and the rare, poetic, often hilarious words to name an all too relatable pain. I want to remind young women that it can be painful to be first, to be bold, to carry vision before anyone else sees it—but that there’s power in that. You can turn pain into something lasting.
When pursuing the book, my first call wasn’t to talent—it was to Dr. Christine Moutier at the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention to ensure we could do this with care and relevance. That’s always been my approach. With 13 Reasons Why, we consulted mental health experts and built systems of care around the show. I want to make work that lives beyond the screen and embraces people in a way they may not have been.
Growing up in Yonkers, we came from humble beginnings—but my mom took us into NYC for “standing Room only” tickets to Broadway shows. She was a strict Italian Catholic, but didn’t really censor art. We sang Sondheim and Bachrach and went to museums and 5 dollar “nosebleed” seats to the ballet. “A Chorus Line” taught me about identity and the struggle to follow your dreams. “Kramer vs. Kramer” helped me process my parents’ divorce. Eyes On The Prize taught me about the unsung heroes of the Civil Rights movement and shaped who I wanted to be in the world during a fraught desegregation case in our city. Do The Right Thing felt so much like my own neighborhood, where race and ethnicity served as both a point of pride and division. (I’m half Italian and still wear my “Boycott Sal’s” sweatshirt with pride!)
I lead with love—and I love fiercely. When I love a project—or the people behind it—I will protect them all to the end. I’ll do the work, carry the vision, and keep going when it feels like we’re all about to burn out or give up. It takes a village to make a show; from the rights holder to the writers, directors, cast and crew to the publicists. You have to have love and appreciation for everyone to get to the finish line. Especially when telling someone’s real story, I often say: 'You only have one life story. We’re either going to make the right version or not make it at all.' My late mentor Steve Golin used to call me 'relentless,' which I’ve reluctantly decided to take as a compliment.
Well, she’s not quite a woman yet, but my 13-year-old daughter came into the world as the boss of me. She doesn’t always see it, but she has such a strong sense of self. She does not compromise when it comes to caring for her friends or her rescue cats— she stands up to bullies, speaks up for her peers and has wisdom beyond her years. She surrounds herself with interesting, passionate kids who make me laugh, teach me what’s cool and call me “Mama Joy”. Her little 7th grade community is so loving— they can cry over advanced math or the Hunger Games books and are so supportive of one another. Sometimes I look into her beautiful eyes (right before she rolls them at me) and can’t believe she’s my baby.
I struggle with this question because since the LA fires in January, I’ve seen so many incredible people lose every single physical “thing” they ever had. Those days of packing up your “valuables” in case of evacuation made us all confront what matters. I had my mother’s paintings in my car, one jewelry box of sentimental things, my Grande Lash MD and an escape plan for our dog and 3 cats. But I know the only “thing” I can’t live without is my people– my family and friends. Community is everything.
I’m not big on chasing trends. I’ve seen too many splashy packages in the headlines that go nowhere with a huge price tag. I care about longevity and about work that creates real connection. I’m especially drawn to stories that bridge generations and invite people to see each other more clearly. It’s a gift and a privilege to contribute to popular culture and I want to make sure what we are making is worth leaving behind. I thrive on projects that might unify people across the aisle and the world by creating conversation in the real world.
