Emily Hausman gave birth to her son, Zeke, in May 2025, two months before she was diagnosed with cancer.
Emily Hausman has stage 4 metastatic melanoma.
Emily Hausman and her son, Zeke.

A series of unfortunate events led Emily Hausman from her girl boss New York City lifestyle to living in her parents' basement in Utah, battling cancer as a new mother and chatting with online strangers via TikTok.

Hausman wanted a baby. Without much luck in the dating world, she decided to become a parent on her own. Two months after finding out she was pregnant, in November 2024, came the first blow: Hausman was laid off.

She thought she could find a new job because she didn't "look super pregnant yet." But after a few months, Hausman moved back to the Salt Lake City suburbs. It hurt to leave behind the hustle and bustle of New York City, which was her home for nearly two decades.

After her son was born in May came the news that sent Hausman to her knees. She went for her follow-up appointment six weeks after her C-section and asked about mastitis, or breast inflammation, which is common in breastfeeding women. But Hausman had stopped breastfeeding. Her doctor ordered a mammogram, then an ultrasound, then a biopsy. That's when Hausman, with an infant to care for, was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic melanoma.

"It felt absolutely ludicrous," Hausman told USA TODAY. "Like, this has got to be a joke at this point."

Hausman, facing mounting medical bills, took to TikTok to vent. She said she had about 50 followers when she shared her story in a video. To her surprise, it went viral, and generous strangers brought her GoFundMe − which had just been shared among friends and family at first − from around $20,000 to more than $100,000.

"It's still going, and I just am still very shocked that anyone would care, honestly," Hausman said.

Why do we feel compelled to give to strangers online?

Empathy is the main driver that leads people to give to strangers, said Ashley Harrell, assistant professor of sociology at Duke University. And people are more likely to feel empathy toward a specific person than a group, cause or organization.

Hausman's story is "heartbreaking," said Jourdan Travers, a psychotherapist in New Jersey, "and I think people can resonate with that."

"We might not know the pain Emily's going through, but we know what pain feels like," Travers said. "And we know that pain hurts."

Learning the details of someone's story, getting updates on their condition and knowing what they look like and the kind of person they are "helps put a face to the crisis," Harrell said, which leads to a personal, emotional connection. And those emotions are what make strangers want to donate, even if they aren't wealthy themselves.

"People that have less give more of what they do have," Harrell said. She thinks that happens more with online donations, because donors can see how much money others are giving.

At the same time, Harrell has found some people feel compelled to donate just a couple of dollars to online strangers because there is a sense of community in giving. People are moved by the idea that if everyone gives a small amount, they can make a difference together.

"It feels good to give," Travers said. "We feel better when we give, we feel like we're a part of something."

In 2024, donors raised money for hundreds of thousands of medical fundraisers through GoFundMe, collectively raising more than $1 billion, according to GoFundMe's annual report. Medical fundraising is the largest category on the platform.

But crowdfunding doesn't start with strangers.

"Often, it’s the people closest to you who start a GoFundMe on your behalf," Sarah Peck, vice president of communications at GoFundMe, said. "In fact, more than 1.3 million fundraisers have been created by best friends for each other, reflecting the deeply human desire to help when someone you love is in need."

Strangers' kindness 'restored my faith in humanity'

Hausman said her best friend created her GoFundMe. Hausman wasn't interested, at first, in sharing her story widely or asking for additional help from her friends and family, let alone from strangers. But she soon realized she couldn't face cancer alone.

This hesitancy is common, Travers said, because people may be fearful of being judged or of having their trauma follow them later in life.

Once she started sharing her journey, Hausman said, she found it cathartic. And she's been overwhelmed by the positive, supportive comments from strangers online.

"It's really restored my faith in humanity, how people have really shown up for me, especially all these strangers," Hausman said. "They're really rooting for me."

Now, she's focused on getting through immunotherapy (which makes her feel like "absolute hot garbage") and spending as much time with her son, 5-month-old Zeke, as she can.

"He's the love of my life. He's amazing. He's, like, the cutest baby ever. I know I'm biased," she said, laughing.

Madeline Mitchell's role covering women and the caregiving economy at USA TODAY is supported by a partnership with Pivotal and Journalism Funding Partners. Funders do not provide editorial input.

Reach Madeline at memitchell@usatoday.com and @maddiemitch_ on X.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: She was laid off while pregnant, then got cancer. Here's what restored her faith in humanity.

Reporting by Madeline Mitchell, USA TODAY / USA TODAY

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