One Quietly Breaking Mum
But no hug would heal this woman, her growing wounds were deep. They were the bruises of an abused spouse, except here the abusers were her family and friends, work colleagues and boss, the mainstream
It was twilight when I reached her. She was sitting on a blanket with her two young boys as the choir sang carols from the Cenotaph. Myself and a helper were distributing programmes and candy canes and carrying a tub full of donations. There was around four hundred people here, mostly families, but not all. The vaccinated and the unvaccinated coming together to celebrate the new counter culture’s non-discriminatory Carols by Candlelight.
As I handed her a programme, so she could singalong she knew my name and I could see she was upset.
You want a hug? I asked. They’re free.
So she stood up, and in my arms teared up.
Have you lost your job? I asked. For this was the common story.
No, she whispered. It’s not that.
And then I watched her turn away from her young boys, who were busy unwrapping their candy canes, and I watched her really struggle to hold the tears in.
It’s the hiding she said. The constant lying. The pretending to be on board, to be happy at work with the narrative.
I’m so alone, she said. But what can I do? I don’t know what to do. I’m a single mum with two kids.
And then she hugged me again, and I could feel her shaking, and all we had was carols, candy canes and programmes full of old Christian Carols.
During the day’s protest myself and five or six women had formed the #freehugarmy. We had stayed on the side during the march, holding up our free hug signs to those watching.
“The Government is trying to divide us with fear, we are trying to heal the divide with hugs. Come on down and let’s hug our way back to where we can sing the National Anthem and mean it, We are young and we are free.”
Most just pressed their backs to the shop fronts, their masks on, their eyes frightened. But some broke from this and accepted our offer. What was interesting is many seemed to shudder before they did, it was like they were shaking off chains and then they’d stride forward and hug us. And I mean us, they would move from one to another as we cheered.
One man not only walked back and hugged us, but afterwards ripped off his mask.
I had a vision of thousands marching down the city streets all offering “free hugs.” Each hug that was accepted working to heal the divide.
But no hug would heal this woman, her growing wounds were deep. They were the bruises of an abused spouse, except here the abusers were her family and friends, work colleagues and boss, the mainstream media, with all their fear porn, and her Premier and her Prime Minister. All of them forcing her, in order to keep her job, her mortgage to live in the lie that she’s happy.
Unable to offer any help other than a hug, I found some other women when I was walking through the crowd and asked if they could go talk to her, and they did.
Free Hugs aside we are currently heading into darkness, pulled there by those who are infected with fear. But every night ends with a dawn and I believe that this is how we reach it, together.
More than that, I believe these brave protesters are the light that will help guide us there.
Michael Gray Griffith
God bless you people you are the life line to so many of us xx