Here on All American Road, LGBTQIA+ Street seemingly intersects with, and runs straight through, our home.
We embrace the queer lives that are part of the open fabric of our blended family.
We are proud Pride parents.
My stepson, Cameron, is trans male.
When I was warmly welcomed into my new family in 2017, Cameron had reached the most personal of turning points; he publicly – and bravely – announced his transitioning from female to male.
It’s sad, really, to feel the need to rely on the word “brave,” or derivatives of it, when describing someone who is simply being the person they were born to be.
Fortunately, most members of our collective extended families welcomed Cameron’s transition with open minds and open hearts.
Just as importantly, he was welcomed with open arms, also. A sincere hug is a powerful thing. It doesn’t just end when an embrace ends. It remains a positive memento of total recall.
Open hearts; open minds; open arms: the trifecta of acceptance. Who feels wholly loved if not loved for who they truly are?
My stepson has evolved into a much happier person. His mental well-being has spiked. His journey continues.
Recently, I was honored to moderate a Q&A with Sara Cunningham, founder of Free Mom Hugs, a nonprofit organization that celebrates the LGBTQIA+ community through visibility, education, and conversation.
“When our first son was born, we were plugged into a mainstream evangelical conservative church,” said Sara, who lives in Oklahoma City. Later, as an adolescent, her son announced having “same-sex attraction.”
“I thought it was just a phase,” she recalled. “I really thought that something bad had to happen to him to make him gay, and I didn’t understand. I didn’t know any other moms with gay kids. We didn’t have gay people in our congregation or in our fellowship.”
She added, “I shamed him.”
Sara eventually joined a private Facebook support group for moms with gay children. Since then, its membership has increased from 200 to 40,000. She credits the Facebook group for enlightening her on the history and science of human sexuality and showing her that faith and homosexuality don’t have to be mutually exclusive of each other.
“We all had the same story of feeling alienated from our families, from our church homes,” she said. “When Parker came out of his closet, I went into mine, and I had to reexamine everything that I believed. I deconstructed and reconstructed and eventually found faith-based resources that I needed. I needed to hear from someone who shared my faith that it’s OK to search this matter out, because when you do, you get educated. I know the power of fear and ignorance, and I know the power of love and education. I’ve lived in both worlds. I really put my family through a very difficult time in that place of fear and ignorance.”
Attending the 2014 Oklahoma City Pride Festival proved life-changing.
“I’m standing at the end of the parade. People are mingling in the street. I see a crowd of diversity, color, and vibrancy. It was beautiful. I looked to the heavens, and I really did feel God’s favor there. And I thought, “God, thank you that I am the one changed. I fell in love with this beautiful, spirit-filled community.”
In 2015, Sara returned to the Pride event wearing a button she made that stated, “Free Mom Hugs.”
“If anyone made eye contact with me, I offered them a free hug. The first hug I gave went to a beautiful young woman who said it had been four years since she got a hug from her mother because she’s a lesbian. I pulled her in tight and said, ‘Well, I’m a mom. Here’s a hug. I’m not letting go until you do.’ That night I went home covered from head to toe with glitter from the Pride Festival.”
That first hug was the impetus of Free Mom Hugs.
To date, the organization has chapters in all U.S. states, with more than 14,000 volunteers. It recently developed a global foothold.
According to Sara, a hug is “an acknowledgement from one person to another. It’s magic. It’s life-giving. It’s empowering. It’s the essence of humanity.”
Now then, a bit more about my stepson.
In the past year, Cameron’s father died. He took the loss very hard. Recently, on Father’s Day, I sent a text to show that I was thinking of him – what with it being his first Father’s Day without his father. True, a text pales to a hug, but … we do live in different cities.
The next day, I found a Father’s Day card in our mailbox – to me, from Cameron, mailed a couple of days earlier.
He could’ve written “Happy Stepfather’s Day” (if there’s such a thing), but instead, he wrote “Happy Father’s Day!”
Today, I’m working hard to not refer to Cameron as my stepson. I have always felt an awkwardness when reserving this descriptor for him, as if bound to a borderline defined by unshared bloodline – perhaps out of respect for his “real” father. Strangely, now, “stepson” has been easier to not say due to Cameron’s recent loss. Still, it requires discipline and thoughtfulness, similar to how I had learned to naturally address Cameron by his new pronoun.
Cameron sent me a Father’s Day card.
It’s nice to feel accepted by a son.
Email Scott at scottsaalman@gmail.com.