Turning Grief into Greatness: Brianna Broadcasts Teen Hope

My friends and I have a saying: “Who knows a teen better than a teen?”

Sometimes, adults like to assume what kids need. But few people take the time to actually listen to our desires, our opinions, our hopes for the world. That’s what our podcast is for.

We started it a few years ago at the Boys & Girls Club, during the worst days of the pandemic. At the time, we felt siloed and silenced. The Club’s staff and recording studio had everything we needed to change that.

Over the years, my peers and I have talked on air and in person to politicians, state senators, congresspeople — even Minnesota’s governor, Tim Walz. We’ve learned from their wisdom, but more importantly, they have learned from us, too.

Using my voice to help teens feel heard has been one of the greatest joys of my life. But, to get here, I had to find my own voice first. That journey also began at the Boys & Girls Club after my family went through the unimaginable.

Finding Comfort in Community

I came to the Al Lenzmeier Westside Boys & Girls Club as a shy five-year-old, but it wasn’t long before the hours after school became my favorite time of day.

The Club was down the hill from our house, and the fun we had was endless. I played volleyball, my brother made his own music in the recording studio, and I’ll never forget going to my first Minnesota Vikings game with my Club friends!

Those first five years felt magical, but everything changed when I was ten. On the night of my sister’s birthday, we lost my brother Billy to gun violence. He had left the party early to try to mediate a conflict peacefully. We never imagined that it would be the last time we saw him alive.

After Billy’s funeral, my mental health spiraled, and my grades slipped. People swarmed to help my family, but the only place I wanted to go was the Boys & Girls Club. These weren’t strangers; these were people who knew and loved my brother. I remember staff visiting our house frequently, bringing our family food and support.

The Club had always been a safe space for me and my siblings to grow. During this dark time, it became a place where we could heal, and slowly, I began to rebuild.

Broadcasting “Our Westside Story”

The summer before high school, I turned my grief into action by joining my Boys & Girls Club’s teen leadership program, Keystone. After the impact of the pandemic, we wanted to give kids a space to speak openly about their mental health.

I’ll admit that when my friends first suggested starting a podcast, I wasn’t exactly sold.

“Podcasts,” I said, “Aren’t those for old people?”

“Podcasts are for everyone,” the Club’s staff reaffirmed, and they were right.

“Our Westside Story” was the perfect name, giving us Westside teens a safe space to share our experiences without judgement. We set up a suggestion box for topics of conversation and interviewed some of Minnesota’s most influential leaders: Betty McCollum, U.S. Congresswoman, Bobby Joe Champion, the first African American Minnesota Senate president, and Duchesne Drew, president of Minnesota Public Radio.

On the air, we have the world’s attention. Our podcast guests are the adults currently in charge of making big decisions in our country. And our audience is listening, from community leaders to parents to kids our age.

The podcast was a hit, and in 2022 and 2023, our Keystone club went all the way to Washington D.C. to advocate for youth mental health on a national scale at Boys & Girls Clubs of America’s annual Summit for America’s Youth.

There, we met with leaders like Senator Amy Klobuchar and even won Boys & Girls Clubs of America’s youth advocacy competition. Facing off against hundreds of Clubs, we presented “Our Westside Story” in true “Shark Tank” fashion as a community project worth investing in, earning a grant to grow our podcast.

A year later, we were honored with Boys & Girls Clubs of America’s National Advocacy Innovation Award. Yet, podcasting was just the start of my advocacy journey.

For four years, I represented my Boys & Girls Club at the Minnesota State Capitol, calling for more teen mental health resources. I also led a community project combatting food insecurity, advocating for the installation of free food pantries throughout the Westside.

After losing Billy, my world shattered. But through my Boys & Girls Club community and experiences, I regained my strength, transforming pain into purpose.

Making the “Miss Honey” Difference

As Boys & Girls Clubs of America’s 2025-2026 Midwest Youth of the Year, I believe empathy means making room for all stories to be heard. This one is mine, but there are countless others that I hope to elevate as an aspiring emotional behavioral disability teacher.

I’ve seen the positive impact a caring teacher can have. I like to call it, “The Miss Honey Difference,” after the teacher from the book, Matilda, and I dream of being that person for the next generation of leaders.

One day, I’ll no longer be a teen, but it will still be my responsibility to help young people feel seen and heard. After all, America’s future depends on how we show up for kids today, so why not invest in a better future for us all?