Why We Do What We Do

See that kid in the middle with the spiky hair and the electric guitar? That's me.

Or at least it was. That picture was taken at a Power of Hope camp on Whidbey Island in 2002, when I was still a camper. In the years since, I've had the opportunity to play music a lot of amazing places--onstage at Seattle's biggest rock club, and even on mainstream radio stations. Yet few memories can compare with the experience of being fifteen and standing up in front of a crowd of other teens, performing my own music for the first time. And that first performance was at Power of Hope.

There's a reason for that. You see, Power of Hope isn't really about the arts--or rather, not just about the arts. It's a place where teens from all walks of life can come together with gifted, passionate adults to learn what it means to be a community--how to listen, and how to speak their own truth. At fifteen, Power of Hope was the first time I'd ever truly interacted with kids who had fundamentally different life experiences from my own--kids with different ethnicities, sexual orientations, family situations, or economic backgrounds. Over the course of just a few days, all of us became closer than we could ever have imagined, both with each other and with the adults who challenged us, supported us, and saw us not as problems to be fixed, but as the people we wanted to be. In that sort of environment, anything is possible--even a song from a scared punk kid on crutches, with a sweaty guitar he can barely play.

From my first camp until I graduated at eighteen, I knew that Power of Hope was special. That's why after college, I came back and worked for the organization for a summer, managing camps all over Washington. And you know what? Power of Hope was just as transformational as an adult as it was as a camper. To see the kids come out from behind their walls, to blossom and begin expressing themselves simply because they'd found a community that would empower rather than judge, was inspiring. Every morning that summer, whether I woke in a bunk bed or in a sleeping bag out under the stars, I did so knowing that I was making a difference in kids' lives. It's the same reason that, years later, I'm now proud to be on Power of Hope's board of directors.

Over the years, I've run into an astonishing number of people who've been touched by Power of Hope--former campers who've gone on to pursue their dreams or make positive changes in their communities, or the parents who explain how the program literally saved their children's lives. By experiencing that sense of community even once, teens realize what kind of place the world could be. And brick by brick, they begin to reshape it.

When you donate to Power of Hope, you're joining that story. Every dollar we bring in helps us continue to make these camps possible, to give teens the gift of a supportive, empowering community. By donating, you're helping them find the strength to do anything--and the courage to trust in themselves.

For me, though, it all comes back to this picture, to the community I was never able to find anywhere else. When I donate to Power of Hope, it's for that spiky-haired kid. And for the children in my family, so that someday they can have the same experience.

So who are you giving for?

James Sutter

Power of Hope Board Member