“Now is the time to step up, speak out, and lead with conviction. Be the change. Be the voice. Be the difference.”
The call is timeless; the voice behind it belongs to 17-year-old Rhode Islander, Adequoyah Kamali Josephine Mathews. As our conversation unfolded it became clear to me that she doesn’t look at life through the lens of growing older. She sees it as a journey of growing whole. Together.
Adequoyah’s sense of wholeness isn’t aspirational—though it can be. It’s rooted in painful and joyful experiences bolstered by the courage to step up when things are scary. Or when things feel wrong. Not just for herself but for others—for all of us.
I had the honor to meet Adequoyah on two occasions. One was when I served as an interviewer during a panel discussion she participated in last November. I was so struck by the clarity of who she is. I knew I was witnessing an everyday leader unfold right in front of me. I asked her for coffee because I wanted a deeper conversation with the person who reminded me that it takes all generations to rise up from the invisibility of silence.
“I was living and being in an area where I was underrepresented in my community and in my ideas. Living in a place that didn’t accept me because I look different and have different traditions and values. I was treated like this is a bad thing.”
So she took the courageous step to transfer to The MET High School in Newport, Rhode Island. Reflecting on that decision she said:
“When I transferred schools, that’s when something clicked for me. My difference from others makes me who I am. My differences make me important, and the most important thing in a room is diversity. Knowing that I bring something to the table makes me feel like I can do something with my future. I didn’t have to be like others to be respected. I can help people understand that they matter and together we can help uplift their voices. Having the ability to be confident in what I say came from a place in my past where I felt I couldn’t step up because I didn’t feel like I mattered.”
She joined the Newport Boys and Girls Club and met mentors who gave her the space to step up, surrounded by a safety net of support. Perhaps it was here that she set down a path of improving herself, not proving herself. The seeds of a growth mindset, and helping others grow, were beginning to take root.
“It allowed me to get back on the horse. I started to feel the need to motivate others. I began to have the courage to take risks and speak up for people beyond myself. There was still fear. If you’re outside the norm, there’s always a risk of not being accepted or pushed out. People need social connection, even while they learn to acknowledge the negative effects of harmful behavior. For me, it meant staying grounded in my beliefs to help others and help people find their own voice without needing validation from everyone else. I’ve changed in how I face adversity, building up courage to face things step by step, she said.
There is a cost to not stepping up and speaking out for Adequoyah. A cost that crosses generations and knows every corner of our shared humanity. We have all seen a complicity in silence. I asked her what silence costs us.
“Being silent is dangerous. When people say they’re not voting, it’s still a vote for not speaking up and not taking a stand. When people stay quiet because the subject doesn’t affect them, it’s a loss for the community and for all of us. Silence isolates people. It closes doors and chips away at the ability to build a stronger community for everyone. Finding your voice is the first step. The next step is learning how to become the voice for others. When people are silent or bystanders it has very real and negative consequences.”
Like many of us, Adequoyah’s understanding of her voice began long before she realized she had one.
Adequoyah grew up in Southern Rhode Island in a close knit family with her parents, an older brother and both an older and younger sister. While her siblings were outgoing and not afraid to try new things, she often saw herself as the “odd one out,” stubborn, picky and more comfortable sticking with what felt familiar.
Her family was shaped by multiple cultures and histories. Her mother, who grew up in Providence, is Liberian; her maternal grandparents immigrated to the United States during the civil war in Liberia. Her father grew up in New Hampshire and has English, French and German roots. Both parents were from entrepreneurial families and together they created a home where culture was not just acknowledged but celebrated. Christmas is observed alongside Kwanzaa. Sunday meant church with her mother’s side of the family. Pride in heritage was a foundational value.
Today, those family roots have only deepened. She learned that caring for herself is essential before she can advocate for others. It’s a family that lives by what it means to show up, to serve, and to belong. The way Adequoyah learned to be a part of, and draw strength from, this culturally rich family helped her understand how to be a part of the world.
“I want to be someone people in my community can trust and confide in. I want to be a responsible person in my community, someone who helps create positive change,” she said.
That sense of responsibility is closely tied to purpose. “There is a sense of purpose in helping others. I find a sense of joy and completion when I help others achieve a goal. I see myself in government one day. I’d love to be a congresswoman.”
At the same time, she is clear that leadership often shows up in quiet, everyday moments. “Sometimes it’s the small things: holding a door open, sitting with someone who seems alone, inviting someone to sit with you,” she said. “Those moments matter.”
Helen Keller once said, “Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.” In a time when silence can feel safer and division louder, Adequoyah’s journey is a reminder that progress is not a solo act. It requires listening across differences, standing together and recognizing none of us moves forward alone.
Adequoyah closed our conversation with a final thought.
“You matter. Being seen and told you matter affirms that your presence is important and that you belong. When we recognize how essential each voice is–when we lift one another up and remain open to learning from each other–the health of our community grows. Community is rooted in care. Without it, there is nothing that holds us together.”
Amen.Helen Hames is an Aging Advisor and Founder of Age Ambassador, based in Rhode Island. She works with older adults and their families to navigate decisions around aging at home or transitioning to senior living, recognizing the needs and priorities of today’s older adults continue to evolve with each generation. Helen’s approach centers on understanding what matters most to each individual and helping families plan with intention, clarity and compassion. Helen was honored with the 2025 Senior Champion of the Year Award for her advocacy and personalized guidance that supports older adults in living fully through every season of life.