S’mores, Sequins, and Self-Discovery: Hope and Healing in the Maine Woods: An Inspired Reflection by Chris McLaughlin, MSW, LCSW

Is it possible to hear “Pink Pony Club” too many times in one week?

The short answer to this existential question is actually quite simple. “Nahhhh”!

I recently returned from a week-long summer camp experience with queer youth from all across Maine where I had the privilege of serving as the Mental Health Consultant to support these 50 youth as well as the adults so selflessly caring for them. Honestly, it’s taken me the better part of the week just to feel back to my usual baseline, both physically (thanks to lack of sleep and a touch of brown tail moth rash I picked up, fortunately, at the end of our time in the woods) and mentally. This was my third year at camp in this role, and I always think I know what to expect. And every year, these young people blow me wide open. Every year I have served in this role has been deeply meaningful, but this summer felt especially profound. Against the backdrop of heightened political debates and increasing mental health needs, this camp became more than just a gathering. It also became a lifeline, for the youth and us adults alike.

What unfolded over the course of the week was nothing short of transformative. Here’s the deceivingly simple truth: When queer youth are surrounded by affirming adults, something magical and indescribably powerful happens. When queer youth are surrounded by adults who see them, hear them, and celebrate them, the shift in the collective energy is palpable. Walls come down. Laughter gets louder. Self-expression expands. And hope, real, embodied hope, starts to grow. These kids begin to breathe easier. They stand up taller. Their confidence soars, and they begin to believe that who they are is not only valid but celebrated. They see, often for the first time, queer adults modeling what it looks like to grow up, to thrive, and to live fully authentic lives. These moments send an unmistakable message to these incredible young people: It does get better.

This summer felt especially poignant. With the increasing hostility in the political landscape, the growing weight of fear, anxiety, and even anger that so many queer kids are carrying, and the real urgency of some of their mental health needs, it felt like this year’s camp experience became bigger than simply a brief taste of respite from the “real world”. I truly believe that what was created in our little corner of the Maine woods was a sanctuary, a place where all those involved in this experience knew that they were safe, supported, and so so so loved! This week reaffirmed something I have always known: Creating psychologically safe, affirming environments for LGBTQIA+ youth is not optional, it is actually quite essential, especially in 2025. These spaces foster community and a deep sense of belonging. They cultivate resilience. They save lives. And believe me when I say that it wasn’t just the youth who were changed. I watched the adults, counselors, volunteers, and camp staff light up, soften, and reconnect with parts of themselves that maybe hadn’t felt safe in a long time either. We were all reminded, youth and adults alike, that living authentically is the foundation of both belonging and joy. I felt it too. I came back from camp not just grateful but cracked open in the best possible way. Throughout the week, I felt bursts of light stretch over and through me with, among other things, each rendition of “Pink Pony Club” that was shouted at the top of lungs. That light that we were all bathed in, well, my friends, that light is called Queer Joy, and it’s tougher than any other substance known to humankind.

Queer Joy is more than a feeling. It’s a force that embodies self-acceptance, community, and power, shining as a vibrant celebration of identity. It is the embrace of self, the warmth of community, the pulse of power, and the vibrant dance of identity. Beyond simple happiness, Queer Joy is the courage to live authentically in the face of oppression. It cultivates hope, resilience, and belonging, fueling our collective journey toward liberation and reminding us to keep moving forward, together. These shared experiences of Queer Joy was a huge part of our collective camp story. Songs around the campfire, craft projects of all shapes and sizes, bracelet making, the ability to explore the donated clothing in the impromptu camp Thrift Store (the “Back in the Closet” boutique), a silent disco and talent show, unabashedly playing around with make-up and temporary hair color and extensions, tie dying camp t-shirts, swimming without fear of ridicule, and simply being addressed by the name and pronouns that fit us best are just some of the many moments that brought smiles, laughter, and that dizzying sensation of floating 15 feet above the ground. Yes, that’s Queer Joy, and we were each showered with it every single day.

Yes, there were some hard moments too. Without a doubt, there is a clear undercurrent of uncertainty and worry that these youth are also treading through. During our week together, there were tears in addition to the laughter and grins. I’m sure those of you reading this now can begin to imagine the sorts of struggles these youth are also navigating back in their communities, homes, and schools. Bullying (by peers and adults alike), threats of violence, loneliness, and daily headlines (local and national) that send the message that YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE to members of the LGBTQIA+ community are just a few of the monsters that will be waiting under the beds for these kids to return home. A week at camp can’t erase all the hurts from the past, and it won’t wrap them in bubble wrap for the years ahead. However, here’s what I chose to believe… This week at camp serves as a vaccine of sorts. It jump starts the immune system and provides some protection from the day-to-day challenges these young folks are facing back home. Because of our time together this summer, perhaps these youth will be a bit stronger in their ability to manage the “stuff” that will inevitably come their way in the weeks ahead. Perhaps our shared moments of Queer Joy have inoculated them against hate in the short term, allowing these youth to focus on their resilience and even their survival in the longer term. Because, you see, what I also know is that Queer Joy is a form of resistance too, and don’t underestimate its ability to protect and heal our community from the onslaughts of prejudice and ignorance.

Since I’ve been back home (with both legs covered in the infamous over-the-counter brown tail moth treatment potion), I’ve found myself thinking a lot about what it would have meant to me to have a space like this when I was a kid. To know I wasn’t alone. To see queer adults living full, joyful lives. To feel deep in my bones that who I was could be loved, not just tolerated. I’ve come to an interesting realization, though. Where I am at today, at the age of 50 and working hard on coming to terms with my own struggles with shame and self-doubt, is probably right where I’m supposed to be. Even Taylor Swift says in her fabulous song, invisible string that “Hell was the journey, but it brought me heaven.” Had I been given the gift of unconditional and radical self-acceptance at age 14, I’m not sure I’d be sitting here writing this blog post right now and sharing these inspired insights that have come later in my life. Where would I be? Who knows…. However, getting to the place where I can so confidently share these words with y’all today IS a part of my story. It’s a part of my story that I don’t think I could have skipped over, as much as I would have LOVED to dance over all those hard parts, and still be who I am today. Maybe the hard parts would still have been there, just framed up in a different way? What I know, though, is that who I am today is due to both my past struggles and joys. “There wouldn’t be this, if there hadn’t been you”, right, Taylor (thanK you aIMee)?  I’m so grateful to have been able to play just a small part in showing these youth that there are adults out there who felt just as lost and frightened as them when we were kids. And, here we are today, headphones on, screaming “God, what have you done? You’re a pink pony girl, and you dance at the club” from the rooftops by their side.

As I carry the voices and stories of these incredible young people with me, I remain more committed than ever to the work of ensuring every queer youth—and every adult who walks beside them—can experience the power of safe spaces, affirming care, and the radical hope of knowing they are never alone. There will be lessons learned from this summer at camp that I hope to not soon forget. Reminders to life is too short to not wear the cardigans or play the vinyl records (Taylor collectors, #ifkyk, am I right?!). Reminders that this work matters. These spaces matter. And these kids? They’re nothing short of incredible. And we’re all gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club, loud and on repeat, until we’re back together at camp next summer for another booster shot of Queer Joy!

“These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break
These days you might feel a shaft of light
Make its way across your face
And when you do, you'll know how it was meant to be
See the signs and know their meaning”

These Are Days - 10,000 Maniacs

In community,

Chris McLaughlin, MSW, LCSW
Owner & Lead Consultant
Inspired Consulting Group, LLC