I volunteered with Free Mom Hugs at the Clayton Pride Festival. I expected to spend the day helping others. Instead, I left changed.
I’d never attended a Pride event before. I didn’t know anyone there, I arrived by myself, and I didn’t know what to expect.
What’s it like to hug people when I know nothing about them—and they know nothing about me?
What’s it like to hug someone who needs a hug so badly that they’re willing to accept one from a complete stranger?
In some ways, I felt brave just showing up. I was stepping into an unfamiliar environment, meeting new people, and volunteering for something I had no experience with and didn’t fully understand.
Sure, I’m outgoing, and I connect with people easily. I even hug strangers when they initiate it, usually after a brief but very meaningful conversation.
But that’s just it—there’s a conversation first.
This event was different.
Part of the reason I volunteered was that I wanted to immerse myself in an environment I had long admired and supported from a distance.
Being in the heart of it proved invaluable.
I wanted to learn.
I wanted to understand.
And I wanted to support the LGBTQIA+ community in a more meaningful way.
The Free Mom Hugs organization helped me do just that.
Our Free Mom Hugs booth at the Clayton Pride Festival. This is where the hugs, conversations, and connections began.
What I learned that day was what real courage looks like.
Standing beneath our booth canopy in my Free Mom Hugs shirt, I watched the other volunteers call out, “Free Mom Hugs!” to people passing by. Eventually I joined in, stretching out my arms and offering hugs to anyone who wanted one.
My very first hug changed everything.
A young woman walking with others looked in my direction. At first she seemed hesitant. Then she walked over and buried her head against my chest as I wrapped my arms around her.
We stood there for a moment, embracing.
When she finally pulled away, I could see that she was crying.
I wasn’t expecting that.
Unsure what to do, I asked if she needed another hug.
Without saying a word, she stepped forward again and buried her head against my chest.
I felt so honored that she trusted me.
I didn’t know her story. I didn’t know what she had experienced or what she might have been carrying with her that day. All I knew was that this stranger had allowed herself to be vulnerable with me, and that trust affected me profoundly.
I will never forget her tears.
As the day continued, I found myself thinking about that first hug over and over again. I had come to help others, yet I was already receiving something meaningful in return.
But sometime during the day, a thought occurred to me.
If attending one unfamiliar event felt brave to me, imagine the courage it takes for so many to live authentically every single day.
Imagine knowing there are people who may not understand you, accept you, or approve of your choices. Or worse, abandon, berate or hurt you for them.
Imagine deciding to be yourself anyway.
People light up when they are free to exist in their own unique way.
The atmosphere at the festival vibed with a joyful energy. Everyone smile— so many hugged—all among a sea of rainbow colors. Sparkly dresses, blue hair, pink tutus, and rainbow flags being waved that set the place with a healthy heartbeat. It proved more exciting than a 4th of July fireworks celebration.
Only love abounded.
People laughed. People connected. People danced and celebrated. There was an unmistakable sense of freedom in the air, and I found myself thinking about how important it is for every human being to have a safe place where they can simply be themselves.
One young person who stopped by our booth for a hug wandered over to the table of rainbow giveaways and suddenly squealed when they spotted a flag with the exact colors that represented them.
“You have it!” they exclaimed.
I asked what the flag meant, and they explained that it represented someone who identifies as asexual—someone who does not experience sexual attraction toward people of any gender.
“That’s me,” they beamed.
I wish I could adequately describe their reaction.
I became mesmerized by their happiness at finding such a treasure.
As I watched them, I realized how important it is for people to feel recognized.
As I looked over all the flags on the table, each with its own arrangement of colors and meaning, the sheer number of them astonished me.
Every flag represented a group of people trying to describe an experience, identity, or way of being in the world.
The more I looked at them, the more I found myself thinking about what they represented.
Perhaps the growing number of labels tells us something important.
Perhaps it tells us that being human is far more varied than we once believed.
Society often views human identity in binary terms—this or that.
Yet this idea has long bothered me.
Life has taught me that people rarely fit into tidy boxes.
Pride flag buttons representing a variety of LGBTQIA+ identities and experiences. Curious about Pride flags? Click the image to learn about many Pride flags and their meanings. The linked guide is a different resource and does not correspond exactly to the flags pictured here.
There are simply too many ways of being human.
Too many experiences.
Too many identities.
Too many variations.
Maybe the lesson isn’t that some people are outliers.
Maybe the lesson is that humanity itself is far more diverse than we’ve ever fully understood.
Perhaps we don’t yet understand what it fully means to be human.
Maybe we only need one letter.
Why not just use H for Human?
Not because the other letters aren’t important. They are.
But because beneath every label, every identity, every category, and every difference, we’re all human beings.
Click (or tap) any photo to open the gallery, see the full image, captions, and scroll through the set.
The Stories People Carry
As meaningful as that first hug was, it certainly wasn’t the last interaction that stayed with me.
One gentleman approached and told me that his mother had recently died. When we hugged, he held on for a long time.
Another man spent time near our booth because he was having difficulty walking. He leaned against one of the support poles while we talked.
Eventually he shared a story about a recent trip to Puerto Vallarta with his husband and several friends.
One of the women in their group had passed out in an enourmous swimming pool. Most people hadn’t noticed.
As she drifted through the water, he spotted a few unusual bubbles and realized something was wrong.
He pulled her from the pool and saved her life.
In the process, however, he injured himself badly enough that a month later he was still struggling to walk, even under a doctor’s care.
When I first offered him a hug, he politely declined.
But as we talked, he shared more of his story.
Before leaving, he reached out and hugged me.
And he held on.
That interaction reinforced something I’ve long suspected.
People need to connect.
People need to tell their stories.
People need someone willing to listen.
The Free Mom Hugs Story
According to the Free Mom Hugs website, the organization was founded by Sarah Cunningham, a Christian mother in conservative Oklahoma who struggled to reconcile her faith with her son’s sexuality after he came out as gay.
As Sarah became more involved in the LGBTQIA+ community, she witnessed firsthand the hurt, rejection, and isolation that many people experience. Remembering that she had once been among those who rejected this loving and vibrant community, she decided to take action.
On June 20, 2015, Sarah attended the Oklahoma City Pride Festival wearing a homemade button that read “Free Mom Hugs.” She offered hugs to anyone who made eye contact. The first hug she gave was to a young woman who whispered, “It’s been four years since I got a hug from my mom because I’m a lesbian.”
Sarah embraced her and hundreds more that day.
Free Mom Hugs was born.
Since then, the organization has grown into a nationwide movement dedicated to supporting, educating, and advocating for members of the LGBTQIA+ community. What began as one mother’s journey has become a powerful reminder that acceptance, kindness, and love can make a real difference in people’s lives.
I don’t have many photographs from the event, and that was intentional.
I wanted people to feel safe and free to be themselves without worrying about appearing in someone else’s collection of pictures.
When I think back on the experience now, the image that returns first is not the festival itself.
It’s that young woman.
It’s the moment she buried her head against my shoulder.
It’s the moment I realized she was crying.
And it’s the trust she placed in a complete stranger.
I still don’t know her story.
But I felt so honored that she trusted me.
Sometimes a hug is much more than a hug.
And sometimes simply showing up can prove profound.
❦
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