Roots of Change.

People ask me why I help orphaned children in Uganda instead of helping the homeless here in the United States.

 

And I want to be honest about the answer—because it’s not political, and it’s not because I care less about suffering here at home.

 

It’s because Uganda changed me.

 

12 years ago, I spent six months backpacking alone through Africa. A lot of that time was in Uganda. I wasn’t there with a plan to help. I didn’t go as a volunteer. I was just a young woman moving through the world, trying to understand it.

 

But Uganda doesn’t let you stay untouched.

 

At the time, AIDS was everywhere. Parents were dying—during childbirth, from the virus, from accidents—and when they died, their children were left behind. If a child wasn’t brought into an orphanage, they were on their own. Sleeping outside. Fending for themselves. Disappearing.

 

I met those kids.

 

I sat on the ground with them. I held their hands. I listened to them laugh like kids do—full-body, reckless laughter—even though their lives had already asked too much of them.

 

And once you’ve looked a child in the eye who has no one… you don’t get to pretend they don’t exist anymore.

 

When I came home and eventually built Pomp, I carried them with me. From the very beginning, I knew the business had to stand for more than just beautiful events. So we committed to giving 20% of our profits to three orphanages in Uganda—places we didn’t just send money to, but places we built real relationships with.

 

But over time, I realized something that was hard to admit.

 

Donations weren’t enough.

 

These kids deserve more than survival. They deserve safety. Stability. Dignity. A future that isn’t constantly at risk.

 

So in November of 2025, we created a nonprofit called Roots of Change. The goal is simple but heavy: to help these orphanages buy their own land, build permanent homes with running water and electricity, and plant gardens so they can feed themselves.

 

Because when you own land, you can’t be taken away overnight.

When you have water and power, life gets safer.

And when you grow your own food, you stop depending on miracles to eat.

 

After one of our video calls with the kids—something we do often—I couldn’t shake this feeling. I didn’t need to pray on it. I didn’t need to overthink it. I just knew.

 

I had to go back.

 

The next day I told my colleague Beth I was going to Uganda. She didn’t hesitate. She just said, “I’m going with you.”

 

Then I realized: if people are going to truly understand why this matters, they need to see these kids the way I see them. So on a total whim, I texted Michael from Cogent Studios and asked if he’d consider coming with us to tell their stories.

 

Minutes later, he said yes.

 

So this Christmas, the three of us are going to Uganda. We’re going to sit with these kids, celebrate them, give them a Christmas they’ve never had—and gather what we need to make this mission real.

 

This isn’t about choosing Uganda over America.

This isn’t about ranking suffering.

 

It’s about responsibility.

 

When something breaks your heart open and shows you exactly where you’re meant to help—you don’t walk away from it.

 

You show up.

 

And that’s why I’m here. That’s why Uganda. And that’s why these children will always have my yes.