With heavy hearts, we announce the tragic passing of this American beauty queen!

In the competitive world of pageantry, crowns are often seen as the ultimate symbol of achievement, but for Andrea Andrade, they were merely platforms for a much deeper purpose. On January 16, 2026, the California beauty queen passed away at the age of 35, leaving behind a legacy that far outshines the gold and crystals of her five titles. Her death, nine years after her initial diagnosis, marks the end of a grueling battle with colon cancer—a disease that is increasingly and alarmingly claiming the lives of young adults under fifty. While Andrea’s fight has concluded, the story of her nine-year journey remains a masterclass in resilience, service, and the refusal to let a diagnosis dictate the boundaries of a life.

Andrea’s ordeal began in 2017 when she was just 26 years old. While traveling in Mexico with her grandmother, she experienced sudden, catastrophic cramping and heavy bleeding. Initially, she dismissed the pain, attributing it to a history of endometriosis. However, the situation quickly became life-threatening. Rushed to a hospital after losing three pints of blood, Andrea was told she likely wouldn’t survive the night due to a shortage of donor blood. In a miraculous show of community strength, her father rallied local donors, securing enough blood to save her life. It was only after this stabilization that doctors uncovered the devastating truth: Stage III colon cancer. At an age when most are beginning their professional lives and planning their futures, Andrea was given a prognosis of six months to two years. She defied those odds for nearly a decade.

For Andrea, those nine years were not a period of mourning for the life she expected, but an active pursuit of the life she wanted. She became a prominent figure in the California pageant circuit, earning titles such as Miss West Coast, Miss Nuestra Belleza USA, and Miss California Congeniality. Yet, her husband, Chris Wilson, often remarked that her physical beauty was the least interesting thing about her. They were together for eight years, sharing a bond forged in the fires of chronic illness. Chris frequently spoke of her authenticity and her ability to anchor him with her soul rather than her celebrity. To him, she was a warrior who chose to spend her limited energy uplifting everyone around her.

This selfless spirit found its most profound expression in the wake of Andrea’s own suffering. During one of her countless chemotherapy sessions, she encountered a young boy who had arrived for his treatment wearing a superhero costume. That small act of childhood defiance in the face of a terrifying disease sparked a fire in Andrea. Along with Chris, she founded “Not All Heroes Wear Capes,” a non-profit organization dedicated to bringing magic to pediatric wards. Andrea and Chris would dress as superheroes, accompanied by mascots and characters, to visit hospitalized children. Andrea spoke candidly about the emotional toll of this work, admitting she often cried in private, but seeing a child smile in the middle of their own “battle” made the heartbreak worthwhile. She turned her pain into a shield for others, proving that generosity is perhaps the most effective medicine for the spirit.

Andrea’s journey was a series of peaks and valleys. At one point, she celebrated a period of remission, a time of immense hope where the shadow of cancer seemed to recede. However, the reprieve was short-lived. The cancer returned with a vengeance, spreading to her reproductive system and advancing to Stage IV. Despite the rapid decline in her health starting in October 2025, she remained steadfast. Her primary concern was never her own comfort, but the well-being of her parents. As their only daughter, she carried a heavy awareness of what her absence would mean to them, a realization that fueled her resolve to stay present and positive for as long as her body allowed. She managed to share one final holiday season with her family before being hospitalized shortly after Christmas.

One of the most enduring symbols of Andrea’s legacy sits in a cancer center in Fresno. Years ago, she donated a chemotherapy bell—a tradition where patients ring the bell to signal the end of their treatment. Engraved on that bell are the words her aunt told her during her darkest hour: “God gives his toughest battles to his strongest warriors.” Though Andrea would never get to ring that bell herself, she ensured that hundreds of others would have the chance to do so, buoyed by the strength she left behind. Her life was a testament to the fact that “finishing” isn’t always about the cure; sometimes, it’s about the grace with which you run the race.

Andrea Andrade is survived by her devoted husband, her parents, and her three brothers, Junior, Eric, and Jose. Her story serves as a poignant reminder of the rising rates of colorectal cancer in young people and the vital importance of early detection and self-advocacy in medical settings. Because of her age, cancer was the last thing her initial doctors suspected, a delay that cost her precious time. By sharing her story so openly, Andrea likely saved lives by encouraging other young adults to take their symptoms seriously.

In the end, Andrea Andrade was not defined by the disease that took her, nor was she defined solely by the beauty that made her famous. She was defined by the children she comforted, the husband she inspired, and the community she unified. She lived with an expansive heart, demonstrating that even when time is stolen, the quality of one’s presence can create a legacy that lasts forever. Andrea didn’t just fight a battle; she led a movement of kindness. Her crowns may be tucked away, but the light she brought to the world’s darkest corners remains undimmed. Andrea Andrade didn’t let cancer write her story—she picked up the pen herself and wrote a narrative of triumph, service, and eternal love.