We recently had the chance to connect with Tina Downing and have shared our conversation below.
Tina, 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 is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
Ballroom & Latin Dance lessons.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Tina Downing, and I am the Founder and Executive Director of Small But Mighty Heroes, a nonprofit dedicated to supporting children and families facing pediatric cancer. Our mission is grounded in compassion, community, and the belief that even the smallest acts of kindness can create mighty change during the hardest moments of a family’s journey.
Small But Mighty Heroes began as a deeply personal calling, one rooted in wanting to bring hope, comfort, and strength to children fighting unimaginable battles. What started as a passion project has grown into a fully developed organization serving families through Hero Boxes, emotional support programs, and uplifting resources that help restore moments of joy and courage.
What makes our organization unique is the heart behind the mission. We don’t simply deliver boxes or gifts, we show up. We stand beside families, celebrate their victories, honor their legacies, and remind them that they are never alone. Every child we meet inspires us to do more and to serve better.
Today, our team is focused on expanding our programs, strengthening community partnerships, and reaching even more families across the region. From innovative initiatives like Beyond the Cape to family-focused events and support programs, we are continually growing to meet the evolving needs of pediatric cancer families with dignity and care.
Thank you for taking the time to learn about our mission. It is my honor to serve these incredible little and young heroes and to lead an organization that believes wholeheartedly in the power of hope and humanity.
Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
Before the world told me who I had to be, I was simply a heart that refused to look away. A soul that believed in the impossible, in the small miracles that could shift a life, a moment, a day. I was someone who saw strength in the unseen, courage in the quiet, and hope in the spaces where despair whispered.
Before expectations, before titles, before anyone told me I had to fit a mold, I knew one simple truth: that compassion could move mountains, that love could create heroes, and that even the smallest acts of kindness could ripple farther than the eye could see.
That truth carried me here. It carried me to a place where I could serve, lead, and fight for the children who need it most. It carried me to Small But Mighty Heroes, where our mission is not just to support, but to uplift, to inspire, and to remind every child and family that they are never alone, and that even in the darkest battles, there is light.
Before the world told me who I had to be, I was a believer. And today, I am still that believer, only now, I get to share that belief with the world, one hero at a time.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
The defining wounds of my life did not begin with my own loss. They began with a little boy named Blake.
Blake was just one year old when he was diagnosed with leukemia. He was too young to understand why his body was being subjected to needles, chemicals, and pain. Too young to know why his childhood was being replaced by hospital rooms and treatments so toxic and brutal that they eventually took his life. He fought with a strength that far exceeded his age. At two years old, Blake passed away.
Witnessing his journey changed me forever. There is a particular kind of pain that comes from watching someone so small, so innocent, endure so much suffering. Even now, sharing Blake’s story feels as if the wound reopens as though it just happened. That grief became something I carried with me constantly. I needed somewhere for it to go. I poured that pain, that love, and that helplessness into action, and from that, Small But Mighty Heroes was born. The work gave my grief purpose. It kept me focused, grounded, and determined, and it allowed me to honor Blake by standing beside other families facing the unthinkable.
Years later, my life was shattered again when I lost my twin sister. She was my other half, my strength, my protector, my voice, and my audacity. She was bold, fearless, irreverent, and full of laughter and light. I was the quieter one. I was the dreamer, the seeker, ambitious but careful, thoughtful and calculated. Together, we balanced one another. She taught me courage, humor, and how to lean into life without hesitation. She even taught me how to dance when I had no rhythm, guiding me into joy and movement I never believed I could inhabit.
The loss of a twin is unlike any other. It is not simply losing someone you love. It is losing an unspoken connection, a shared internal language. Twins do not need constant words or daily presence. You feel one another. You know when something is wrong. You know when something needs to be shared. When she died, it felt as though my safety line had been cut with no warning and no net below. It was not the loss of half of who I was. It was the loss of something woven into my very being.
After she passed, I found myself searching for a way to reconnect with life, with feeling, and with myself. That search led me to the ballroom floor. I did not step onto it confidently. I stepped onto it unsure, out of place, and deeply uncomfortable. I knew nothing about that world and felt far out of my league. Fear and self doubt followed every step. Yet through movement, music, and expression, I found a way to channel my grief. I found a way to feel again. Dance gave me a language when words failed. It allowed passion, vulnerability, and exertion to speak in ways I could not articulate. It became the bridge between grief and living, between heartbreak and joy.
That personal experience is what shaped Dancing For Heroes as part of our bereavement program within Small But Mighty Heroes. It was created to share the process that helped me learn how to live again after loss. Through this program, we offer parents who have lost a child and siblings who have lost a brother or sister a resource for mental and emotional healing. Dance becomes a healthy outlet to express grief, to release emotion, and to rediscover fulfillment. It creates a space where grief and purpose can coexist, where expression becomes healing, and where participants are gently guided toward learning how to move forward while still honoring who they have lost.
I have healed through service, by pouring love and intention into every hero box delivered, every family supported, and every program created. Through this work, I honor both Blake’s legacy and the lessons my sister gave me. I have healed through purpose, transforming heartbreak into hope, grief into action, and loss into lasting impact.
I have also healed through grace. Grace for the girl I was before loss. Grace for the woman I am becoming. And grace for the twin I carry with me every day. My wounds have shaped me, but they do not define me. They forged the compassion that guides my work, the fire behind my mission, and my belief that even in our deepest losses, we can rise and help others rise with us.
My twin is with me in every step, every rhythm, and every heartbeat of Small But Mighty Heroes. She is the boldness in my voice and the courage behind my mission. Blake is the reason this work began at all. Through both of them, I have learned that love does not end, purpose can grow from pain, and even after unimaginable loss, life and hope can continue to move forward.
So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
Those who know me best would say that what matters to me is heart, a heart that refuses to look away, even in the face of heartbreak, loss, or uncertainty. A heart that feels deeply, loves fiercely, protects relentlessly, and carries the weight of those who cannot carry it alone. I allow myself to be fully present in the raw, messy, and sometimes humbling moments of life, knowing that it is through vulnerability, care, and courage that true connection and meaning are born.
My heart moves me to love expansively, not just in joy, but in grief; not just in triumph, but in struggle. It drives my devotion to my children, my family, the children and families we serve, and every life I touch through Small But Mighty Heroes. It is a heart that dares to care, to protect, and to pour itself into the world, even when it risks being broken, because I believe the depth of love and compassion is what gives life its most extraordinary purpose.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope they say I lived with a heart wide open, unapologetically tender, relentlessly brave, and willing to love even when love demanded everything of me. I hope they say I carried people with a rare kind of devotion, that I was the one who showed up when the world grew heavy, the one who held space for sorrow and celebrated every quiet victory.
I hope they say I loved my children with a fire that could light the darkest rooms. That motherhood shaped every choice I made, every battle I fought, every dream I chased. That my presence made them feel safe, seen, and cherished beyond measure, and that they always knew they were the center of my universe.
I hope they say I turned my wounds into purpose. That I took my losses, my heartbreaks, my grief, and let them shape me, not into something hardened, but into someone softer, wiser, and more fiercely compassionate. That I did not let pain close my heart, but instead let it deepen my capacity to care.
I hope they say I built something bigger than myself. That Small But Mighty Heroes was not just an organization, but a movement of love, an offering of hope in the midst of fear, comfort in the midst of chaos, and dignity in the midst of impossible battles. That I fought for children and families with everything in me, and that every hero I served knew their life mattered.
I hope they say I left people better than I found them. That I made others feel stronger, braver, more held. That my voice carried warmth, my actions carried meaning, and my presence left an imprint that didn’t fade.
And I hope, above all, they say this:
She loved deeply. She served fiercely. She gave her whole heart to the world, and the world was softer because she lived.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://smallbutmightyheroes.org
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallbutmightyheroes
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Smallbutmightyheroes
Image Credits
Seacrest Studio Lori Harper Photography
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