Treat Your Children Well

Monday, June 17, 2019

Denver had their Pridefest celebration this last weekend. As usual, there were a TON of people there, enjoying the (marginally) good weather and the welcoming culture of the event.

And this year, Sister Stacey and I decided to join the local chapter of a non-profit called "Free Mom Hugs" who work the event. The idea is to provide some level of affirmation and caring to those who need it during this celebration of gender and sexual diversity.

So Stacey and I donned our "Free Mom Hugs" t-shirts, walked to the Civic Center, and found a street corner to stand on.


We stood on that corner for two hours with our hands in the air calling out "Free Mom Hugs! High fives, fist bumps! Get a hug from a Mom!"

I was not really emotionally prepared for the this experience, which was equal parts heartbreaking and affirming, and filled my heart in so many ways.

We gave out hundreds of hugs. Many of the young adults (and it was 90% young adults) just wanted a hug, someone to celebrate their festival with them. Others wanted to thank us for being there, and told us how much it meant to them that their community was supported in this way. Still others literally ran into our arms, caught up in the spirit of the event. A small group said their own moms had passed on, and they just wanted a Mom Hug, one more time. One man literally lifted us off our feet. Many wanted pictures with us, and one couple called us "adorable."

For most of these young people, I made an effort to look each one of them in the eye and tell them how very happy I was to see them. Not just see them, but to really see them, for who they are and all that that entails. Some of my huggees looked a little bewildered, and then either teared up or smiled broadly and said thank you. Others didn't need that level of interaction, and trotted off after their hug, as happy as they were before.

And then there were the others.

One of my first hugs was a young man who came up to to me and said, "I want a Mom Hug because my mom doesn't like me much." A young woman of color who couldn't look Stacey or me in the eye was wiping tears from her eyes as she moved on. We got glitter and makeup all over our shirts, and couldn't have cared less.

But the most profound interaction of my day was a young couple who came in for hugs. The first clearly identified as a woman, and her partner's gender was indeterminate, so I'll use the they/their pronouns.

I hugged both of them, and told them both how happy I was to see them, and then moved to the next person in line (yes, there was a line). But when I turned my head, I noticed the girl hugging her partner, who was crying on her shoulder. On impulse, I put my arms around them both, and I heard the girl say, "See? She's come back for more!" I hugged them both, and then the girl moved away, so I hugged them tight until they moved away. I then looked them in the eye and said, "I don't know what is causing you this pain, but I am so sorry you're going through this." They wiped their eyes and said, "It's okay" in the way people do when they're far from okay. And I responded with "It's really, really not. You matter, and there are people in this world who care about you." That started another round of tears, with me joining in this time, until they felt comfortable going back to their girlfriend.



I have feelings about this.

On the one hand, I was so happy and grateful to have been there at the right place at the right time to provide some level of comfort for this child. They clearly needed some affirmation of their value, and I think my choices in this interaction were the right ones.

And then I got angry. Really, really angry. How starved for parental affection did they have to be that a hug and a few kind words from a total stranger brought them to tears? How alone, how desperate, how bereft? Don't their parents know how incredibly lucky they are, to have the opportunity to lift up this child and support them while they struggle to be themselves in a world that often doesn't understand? My heart broke for this child, and then broke again, knowing that they are at risk, real risk, of suicide, just because of who they are and who they got stuck with for a birth family.

And then I grieved anew, because my Moe-Moe did have supportive parents, parents that would have done anything for her, anything to save her, and we lost her anyway.

Giving out Free Mom Hugs at Pridefest was hard for me. Really hard. But I'll go back next year, and the year after that, and every year until I'm no longer able to do so or until our LGBTQ+ young people aren't at such a high risk of suicide. These kids deserve more, so much more, than their birth families are willing to give. If my presence can give them even the slightest comfort, then I'm willing to pay the emotional price, over and over and over.

You matter. There are people in this world who care about you. Please stay.

ETA: The Colorado Chapter of Free Mom Hugs has no money left in our budget for future activities - the cost of the booth at Denver Pridefest tapped us out. If you wish to contribute to our Chapter, you can send money via PayPal to freemomhugscolorado at gmail dot com. Funds are used to support our presence at LGBTQ+ events and educational materials. Thank you!