We’re looking forward to introducing you to Simone Adams. Check out our conversation below.
Simone, we’re thrilled to have you with us today. Before we jump into your intro and the heart of the interview, let’s start with a bit of an ice breaker: What do you think is misunderstood about your business?
Most people assume I spend my days leading groups into the woods or guiding hikes. The truth? I’m an introvert—that would send my anxiety through the roof. Color My Outdoors isn’t a group-outing organization; it’s a movement that works behind the scenes to support the folks who do lead those groups.
We operate more like a business-to-business model. We provide Outdoor Leaders of Color with scholarships for wilderness medicine certifications, connect them with business and leadership development resources, and serve as a bridge between grassroots organizations and the larger outdoor industry. My work is about building the ecosystem that helps them succeed.
And when I do get outside, it’s usually solo—on a quiet trail or in my kayak—reconnecting with nature and creating distance from the noise that comes with leadership. That solitude refuels me so I can keep doing the work that helps others lead.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Simone Adams, a Southern storyteller, nonprofit leader, and modern-day nomad traveling the Southeast with my adventure cat, Jumbo. I’ve called nearly every corner of metro Atlanta home—Marietta, Smyrna, Lithonia, East Atlanta, East Point, College Park, and a few stops in between. These days, home moves with me. I live in a camper that I pull behind my truck, trading city streets for winding mountain roads. Most of the time, you’ll find me tucked away in the rural Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, though I often circle back to a quiet campground near Lake Allatoona when I’m in Georgia.
I’m a true nomad with only a P.O. Box to my name, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Jumbo hikes and camps right alongside me, keeping watch from the dash as I roam. Friends usually start our conversations with, “Where are you this week?” and honestly, that’s my favorite question—it reminds me that I built a life that moves at the pace of wonder.
My life runs on caffeine, curiosity, and a deep love for wide-open spaces. I’ve been hitting trails and pitching tents since long before “outdoorsy” became an aesthetic. Back then, I spent a lot of time explaining my love for hiking and camping to folks who swore, “Black people don’t do that.” Spoiler alert: we absolutely do. And we always have. The difference is, our stories just weren’t being told.
That lifelong love for nature, and the frustration that came with seeing who was left out of the story, pushed me to start Color My Outdoors, a nonprofit changing the outdoor narrative to celebrate People of Color. I didn’t wait for the industry to make room for us; I built the table myself. For me, this work is about more than access. It’s about belonging, ownership, and rewriting who gets to shape the story of the outdoors in the South and beyond.
While I may hike solo, this work is anything but solitary. It’s fueled by community—outdoor leaders, storytellers, parents, and kids who are building something bigger than a moment. One thing that makes us unique is that we uplift seasoned leaders, Gen X and Millennial folks of multiple races who were often told these dreams were out of reach, and help them step fully into outdoor and environmental spaces with confidence, skill, and visibility. I like to think of Color My Outdoors as equal parts catalyst and connector, linking people, opportunities, and ideas that change how we see the natural world and each other.
We’re not introducing people to the outdoors; we’re reconnecting them and helping them remember that our ancestors have always had a relationship with the land. It’s our duty to reclaim it—to restore that bond, that sense of place, and that power. At the end of the day, this work is about making sure the next generation of outdoor leaders never has to question whether they belong out here.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
People-pleasing. I learned this skill—and this burden—early. Many women do. I learned it from my mother, who learned it from her mother, who learned it from hers. It was how we kept the peace, how we stayed safe, how we survived. But it came at a cost. It ruined friendships, strained my marriage, and damaged relationships with family. The more I gave up pieces of myself to make someone else comfortable, the more I resented them for taking what I kept offering.
These days, I still care deeply about being kind—but I don’t care about being liked. I say no. I disappoint people. I choose to be the main character in my own story, not someone else’s. I also speak up for those who haven’t yet found their voice. I push back, speak out, and make space for honesty.
Through my work with Color My Outdoors, I use that same voice to challenge systems that silence or sideline People of Color in the outdoor and environmental space. I say the things that need to be said, and I say them in ways people can finally hear. My work often requires both courage and charm, because the truth only lands when people feel seen. Letting go of people-pleasing has freed me to lead with honesty, clarity, and conviction.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
2024 was my hardest year. It was a season of sowing—long days, insomniac nights, and no clear sign that the seeds I was planting would ever take root. I had already walked away from hustle and grind culture, but there I was again, grinding harder than ever. I was putting in unthinkable hours, building the foundation for Color My Outdoors—writing grants, forming partnerships, creating systems, and holding the vision together by sheer will.
There were moments when I questioned everything. I couldn’t see the results yet, and I was exhausted. My physical health was questionable, and my mental health was worse. I was ready to give up. A friend told me, “You can’t give up—we’re all counting on you.” Around that same time, messages started coming in from people I didn’t even know, thanking me for the work I was doing. That was the confirmation I needed to keep going.
And then there was my Board of Directors—an incredible group of women I’d known mostly by reputation, not personally. Each brought her own expertise, passion, and spark to the table. They were discerning, unafraid to tell me no, and helped me make wise decisions. They held the vision with me. Their guidance helped me build an organization that is deeply respected and rooted in purpose.
That year tested everything I thought I knew about patience and faith. I was running on fumes, hoping the work would catch up to the vision. It finally did. And now, a year later, my biggest challenge isn’t the grind. It’s finding the time to harvest the bounty.
Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? Is the public version of you the real you?
It is. Who you see is me. But I’m a Gemini, so I’m not one color on the spectrum. I’m a prism—same light, different reflections depending on the day. There’s at-home me, who can spend an entire Sunday in bed without guilt. There’s introvert me, who sometimes can’t summon the energy to make a public appearance. here’s with-my-crew me, who swears, laughs too loud, and follows the what-happens-here-stays-here etiquette. There’s mom me, who loves spending the day with my adult son, just talking, laughing, and hanging out. And there’s family me (the only daughter, with two brothers) who still falls into old roles around people who’ve known me my whole life.
All of them are me. The public version isn’t a mask; it’s just the version you see most often. I’ve learned that authenticity isn’t about showing every side at once. It’s about being honest in whichever version you’re in. Whether I’m on a stage, in a campground, or curled up in my camper with Jumbo, it’s all me. Just different reflections of the same light.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. Are you doing what you were born to do—or what you were told to do?
Neither. I’m doing what I decided to do—what I manifested. And tomorrow, I’ll manifest the next phase of my journey.
Like most Gen Xers, I was taught to chase stability, respectability, and approval. But somewhere along the way, I realized I was building a life that looked right on paper but didn’t feel right in my spirit. So I tore up the script.
I wasn’t born with any extraordinary talent, and I’m not disciplined enough to master one. What I do have is a deep trust in myself and an unshakable belief that I can build what I imagine. I’ve learned that purpose isn’t something waiting to be discovered—it’s something you create. It’s not a calling; it’s a choice you keep making, even when no one understands it.
Some people call that courage. Maybe it is. It’s the courage to trust yourself when the path doesn’t come with directions. To bet on your vision before anyone else can see it. To build something from nothing, and keep going when the world tells you to steer back on the tried and true path.
Manifesting is not wishing. It’s claiming. It’s creating the map. It’s work. It’s faith in motion. Everything I have now, from my purpose to my peace, started with one decision: to believe that what I imagine is already mine, and then move like it’s true.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://colormyoutdoors.org/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/colormyoutdoors/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/company/color-my-outdoors
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ColorMyOutdoors
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@colormyoutdoors
