Why Belonging Matters with Gaelin Elmore

Hi, I’m Teresa Huizar, your host of One in Ten.

In today’s episode, “Why Belonging Matters,” I speak with Gaelin Elmore, a Youth Advocate, Speaker, and Belonging Champion. As child abuse professionals, we are all familiar with ACEs, or Adverse Childhood Experiences. We know the literature, and we see the effects of ACEs in the children we work with every day.

But as we also know, there are children who, despite facing numerous adversities, still manage to thrive. On this show, we’ve discussed with other guests some of the factors that can buffer against those adversities. However, one aspect we haven’t addressed until now is belonging. As you’ll hear, for Gaelin and so many others with lived experience, the key to their success was the presence of adults who recognized their need for belonging and provided healthy avenues for them to connect.

To belong to a team, to a family, to a community—how do we, as child abuse professionals, incorporate this fundamental human need for belonging into our intervention work? How do we intentionally create environments that foster belonging? And how do we ensure that no child is left feeling adrift? I know you’ll be as moved and inspired by this conversation as I was.

Please take a listen.

Hi, Gaelin. Welcome to One in Ten.

Hey, Teresa. Thanks for having me. I’m excited to chat. I should say welcome back, because even though you haven’t been on One in Ten before, you did keynote our conference, and it was fabulous. We received a lot of positive feedback about that. So it’s a pleasure to talk to you again.

Yeah, yeah, I had a lot of fun. I really appreciate the positive comments, but I also have to say that your attendees are so awesome that it would be hard to get on their bad side. So I appreciate it. Well, a lot of them are our listeners too, so it’s great that you’re talking to them again. But for those who might not be familiar with your story, can you share a bit about how you became a champion for belonging, especially for kids who’ve experienced childhood adversity?

Yeah, this work really stems from a continuous question I couldn’t answer during my childhood: “Gaelin, how did you do it?” If you know any young person who has experienced adversity or trauma in their childhood and has become a “success story,” they’ve likely been asked that question. I’d argue that most of them don’t have an answer they feel great about. I certainly didn’t as a kid. People would learn bits and pieces of my story and wonder, “Gaelin, why are you so normal? Why are you a good student? Why are you so polite?”—all these things that aren’t typically associated with someone who has experienced childhood trauma and adversity.

I got that question a lot, and I never had an answer for it. I often describe it as feeling like a fraud. I felt like an imposter, like everyone assumed I had it all figured out and was put together, but inside, I was crumbling under the weight of everything I had to carry every single day.

After my journey led me away from the NFL and into youth work, I stumbled upon the concept of belonging. Someone referred to it as a psychological buffer for childhood adversity, and when I heard that, I knew—it was the thing that changed my life. That was the answer to the question, “Gaelin, how did you do it?” It was belonging. And the beautiful thing about that realization is that it had nothing to do with me. The fact that I was where I was, showing up the way I was able to, had nothing to do with my determination, resilience, or gifting. It had everything to do with the people who helped me.

When I learned about belonging as a young professional in the nonprofit space, I knew I wanted to commit the rest of my life to this cause. I didn’t want it to be a matter of luck that a young person going through hard times finds belonging—I wanted there to be an intentional process to bring that into spaces impacted by adversity and sadness.

So can you talk a little bit about your own journey to belonging, so that people can see what that looks like?

Sure. There’s a scientific definition of belonging, but I’ll stick with a more personal one. For me, the journey to belonging began when I stopped trying to run away from who I was. I stopped trying to avoid and get rid of everything bad that had ever happened to me and started to embrace that these experiences are part of who I am. They add both value and chaos to any space I walk into. As long as I’m at peace with myself and know that I belong within myself, I can belong in those spaces.

Most of my decisions during childhood were about trying to escape the shadow of the trauma I experienced. That led me to some amazing places, like the NFL, but it also led me to a place where I was severely depressed while playing in the NFL. So, it’s a dichotomy: the external success versus the internal struggles.

My journey to belonging really happened during what felt like one of the lowest moments of my life—when I walked away from the NFL. I realized I couldn’t play the game that had taken care of me most of my life anymore. In that moment, I had no clue what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I had no vision, no aspirations, nothing to chase. Then, I had a phone call with my high school coach, who had been my guardian in high school. I expected him to be frustrated, upset, or disappointed, but instead, he just brushed it off and said, “Okay, Gaelin, what’s next? What are we doing? Where are we going?”

That was the moment I realized that this person, who I cared deeply about and had been afraid of losing, was not in my life because of what I could do for him. He was in it because he wanted to be in it with me. If that was true for him, then I needed it to be true for myself as well. It wasn’t about performing for anyone—it was about wanting to be with myself, in the midst of whatever I was going through, instead of trying to run from it. That moment of belonging came after a childhood spent trying to escape. I found it when I stopped running.

You know, what’s beautiful about that story is how your coach, a pivotal person in your life, was also central to your realization about belonging. Can you talk a little bit about the role he played in your upbringing and how he modeled the kind of belonging you’re hoping other kids can experience?

We didn’t start off on the best foot. I moved to his town as a freshman in high school, just out of eighth grade. I was stubborn, hardheaded, and mad at the world, with every wall imaginable built up. I got into all sorts of trouble—starting fights, getting suspended from games, and costing our team victories on the varsity football field. My coach didn’t have many reasons to see me as someone worth investing in beyond what was required of him. But even so, when my dad was arrested during my sophomore year, my coach, behind the scenes, collaborated with my dad to get guardianship of me instead of me going back into the foster care system.

What no one else knew was that this was the only option other than what I thought was my only option—dropping out of high school, disappearing, and giving up on others and myself. My high school coach is the one who stopped that from happening. If he hadn’t caught me as I was leaving school, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation today, Teresa.

He played a massive role in my life, and I think what that means for other people is not that they need to be the primary character in someone else’s story, but that they just need to be committed to saying yes to whatever their role might be. My coach, every step of the way, said yes to the role I needed him to play during that season of my life. He wasn’t trying to be anything more or less—he was simply open-handed and willing to help.

Whether you’re a professional or someone in the community, the question is: what does it look like to be in tune enough to know when and how to say yes? And how can you meet someone’s need for belonging when they least expect it? That’s something my coach did so well for me and many others. It wasn’t just that he showed up in one moment for me—his celebration of life, attended by thousands, was filled with people reminiscing about the little ways he impacted them.

He wasn’t doing it for the praise; he was doing it because it was the right thing to do in the moment. Everyone listening has the capacity to do that.

As you were talking, I was thinking about our listeners, who are all child abuse professionals. Some of them work directly with or are connected to the foster care system. When I used to work more closely with the system, one of the things I often noticed was how children were frequently moved from place to place, with no ongoing connection. I would wonder, who will be there for this child at their high school graduation? Who will be there when they have their first child? When they get married? We disrupt, often for good reasons, their family of origin, but what are we replacing that with?

From a professional standpoint, how can those working in the field incorporate the lens of belonging into their work? How can they practically build belonging for the children in their care?

We can achieve this even when there are safety concerns in children’s advocacy centers. I’ve been reflecting on how quickly things can unfold in our centers, where kids and families arrive on some of the worst days of their lives.

For example, a parent might learn that their child was sexually abused, or a child might disclose this trauma to us. Many families form a long-term connection with the CAC, even if they don’t return or follow through on therapy referrals. Adult survivors often reach out later to express how safe they felt, how they were believed, and how they felt cared for.

This makes me think about how we approach those moments when our connection might be brief. We may not have ongoing contact, but how can we ensure that, even for a short time, people feel genuinely connected? We want to avoid creating a false sense of connection or being overly friendly without boundaries.

One of the things I love about the CAC space is that it combines safety with connection. Everything— from the facilities and staff to how we interact with professionals—is designed with this dual focus. This approach is why I adore the CAC model.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs illustrates that fundamental human needs do not need to be met indefinitely to impact our well-being. For instance, a lack of belonging and connection is processed in the brain similarly to hunger and thirst. Imagine being food insecure and visiting a food pantry. Even if you remain food insecure, a kind interaction at that pantry can be a beacon of hope amidst chaos. The experience of feeling cared for, even briefly, provides significant emotional support.

Hope and fear cannot coexist in the brain. When someone feels hopeful, their fear diminishes, and vice versa. By meeting the needs for safety and connection in the moment, we provide a reprieve from fear and a glimpse of hope. Those who have experienced hope understand its powerful impact.

Belonging is crucial and often overlooked in advocacy and support. If people were educated about belonging, many societal issues might be less contentious.

When professionals question the importance of belonging, I encourage them to reflect on their own experiences. Every person is a product of belonging. For example, infants thrive on skin-to-skin contact and belonging. Contrast this with a newborn who is removed from their home— the impact of not having belonging is profound.

This understanding extends to adults, too. People are deeply influenced by their experiences of belonging. Studies show that individuals with a caring presence during illness, like HIV/AIDS patients, have significantly higher survival rates compared to those who are isolated.

Belonging impacts our development throughout life. Negative experiences of belonging, such as those in unhealthy relationships, can push individuals into survival mode, limiting their access to their logical thinking brain and hindering positive growth.

When we remove someone from an unsafe environment, it’s essential to replace it with positive connections. Support groups are effective not just because people talk about their emotions but because they find a community where they feel understood and connected.

Unfortunately, many interventions don’t focus enough on replacing negative connections with positive ones. This gap can lead to a cycle of returning to unhealthy relationships. True connection must be consistent and genuine, without contingencies based on compliance.

Programs should not create conditions where individuals must meet specific criteria to feel they belong. Genuine relationships are based on unchangeable human worth and dignity, not on behaviors or decisions.

For young people, especially those aging out of foster care, the lack of supportive connections is glaring. These individuals often face significant challenges without a network of support, which underscores the need for a system that fosters genuine belonging.

Public policy should reflect a commitment to both safety and belonging. Some progress is being made, such as requirements for maintaining familial connections and funding for transportation, but there’s more to be done. I’m actively involved in advocating for policies that integrate belonging into child welfare and foster care.

In conclusion, extending invitations to belong should be a part of everyday interactions. This includes acknowledging and valuing individuals, whether they are seeking help or just passing by. In an increasingly divided world, more genuine invitations to belong are needed.

Thank you for this enlightening discussion. Congratulations on your new baby, and thank you for being part of this important conversation.

Thanks for listening to One in Ten. If you liked this episode, please share it with a friend or colleague. For more information about this episode or any of our others, please visit our podcast website at oneintenpodcast.org.