Why “We Think You’re Worth It” is More Than a Motto at Wholly Kicks

Catherine Huckaby
Dec 3, 2025
9 min read

When Tyg stood in the alley in North Aurora, Colorado, he wasn't looking for a sign. He was just looking at a house, a small, worn place in the heart of an impoverished neighborhood that most people tried to avoid. But then a man in a sparkly blue bow tie changed everything.

There's something powerful about the moment when your entire life pivots on a single conversation with a stranger. For Tyg Taylor, that stranger was Rodney, a longtime street resident who shared wisdom that would become the foundation of an entire movement. Rodney told him,

"I always wanted to walk in the shoes that Jesus walked in, but I suppose you can only walk in the shoes that God gives you."

Two hours later, Tyg was envisioning Wholly Kicks as a nonprofit. By 7:30 the next morning, he had his business license. Within two months, he'd moved into that little house and started a journey that would touch thousands of lives, one pair of brand-new shoes at a time.

The Path Nobody Expected

His story doesn't follow the typical nonprofit founder playbook. For 28 years, he served as a Lutheran pastor in Monument, Colorado, "the world's most conservative, least diverse, full of military people, so many things as a young 27 year old, I couldn’t see myself serving very long." Yet he loved that place and those people deeply. His heart, though, was always somewhere else.

"It’s always been on the street and with people that are impoverished," he explains. For 23 years, he ran a program at a local school working with kids who were constantly in the principal's office. He remembers asking one child about the relentless teasing:

"You don't like kids making fun of you every day, because you wear camo from top to bottom... What could you wear tomorrow that might ease that?"

Small interventions. Real conversations. Practical care.

But something was gnawing at him. He'd spend a day each week on the streets of Colorado Springs, developing relationships with people experiencing homelessness. Meanwhile, on Sundays, he found himself increasingly frustrated.

"I felt like I was just screaming at people about how to love their neighbor. I hated programming and all those things."

The breaking point came in the form of brutal honesty about what he saw in congregational life:

"Hey, let's share with the peace and communion my neighbor and then go back to my own little pew area... we say “all are welcome at the (communion) table,” but seldomly are we welcoming anyone to our own home table."

He started pushing his congregation toward more relational ministry and less programming, moves that came with a lot of pain for people.

Then his wife Shellie got sick. She died less than two years later, and his world spiraled.

He knew he couldn't stay. "I thought you were going to retire there," he reflects about what others expected. Instead, he moved to North Aurora, to that impoverished neighborhood he'd been visiting for years, to Colfax, "the longest street in America, but it's also probably the most impoverished street in America."

What Makes Wholly Kicks Different

Here's what you need to understand about Wholly Kicks: they don't do things the way other nonprofits do.

The Wholly Kicks Difference:

Zero Barriers to Dignity - No ID required. No intake forms. No proving you're "deserving enough." As he puts it simply: "We think you're worth it."
Choice Matters - Everything is organized so people can choose. Multiple pairs in each size, displayed openly. "We're a lot higher on choice," Tyg emphasizes. Men's and women's shoes sit side by side, and people pick from wherever they want. "If you want to pick your sparkly shoes, you go for it."
Brand New, Always - In 34,000 pairs of shoes distributed, not one has been previously worn. "We don't give away Jordans. The good news is your sibling's foot has never been in our shoe."
Relational Over Transactional - "We never get a table between us and anybody else as a rule," he notes. No barriers. No clipboards. Just person to person.
Blue-Collar Authenticity - When people ask how to dress for Wholly Kicks events, the answer is simple: "Adam Sandler casual." He and his team dress to match their clientele and don't want to make anybody uncomfortable.

The impact shows up in unexpected moments. He recalls a recent school event where a boy literally walked out of his shoes because he was wearing his father's shoes to elementary school.

His sibling at the same school was wearing their mother's shoes.

"Those things happen. It seems unreal, but it's more common than you think."

The Power of Partnership

Four years ago, everything changed again. At a homeless outreach event in a park, he met a young woman named Tay from an organization called Ability Specialists. They empower adults with developmental disabilities to thrive through community integration and skill-building opportunities.

She asked a simple question: would he consider having adults with disabilities volunteer at Wholly Kicks events? His honest response: "I don't know. I never thought about that... I don't know if I have a process for that."

Two weeks later, she showed up with half a dozen people ready to work. They started prepping shoes and folding socks.

"They just keep showing up every Tuesday... and changed the entire trajectory of Wholly Kicks."

He fell in love with Tay's skillset and heart. She eventually quit her job and became Wholly Kicks' go-to volunteer. Then Wholly Kicks hired her. Now she works 20 hours a week, and Tyg credits her with transforming the organization.

"She's changed the way we do everything. She's an amazing administrator with skills and figuring out things and documents and processes and inventory. She's great with numbers, all the things I hate."

The complementary partnership is obvious: he runs around meeting people, taking pictures, connecting with volunteers and clients. She tracks, organizes, and manages the coordination that makes everything possible.

Tyg shares,

"My hope is that in two years I can step off the day-to-day and hand the mission over to Tay and a new partner or two who carry Wholly Kicks to an even more impactful presence. She says she's found her forever home."

Today, probably nine out of ten pairs of shoes that people receive from Wholly Kicks were prepared by adults with disabilities. "Really," he marvels. "Everybody's got a story... We know that we're their favorite work/volunteer place to come out of the week."

These volunteers are changing lives they'll never see, and he makes sure they know it.

"When Leo comes and clips a pair of shoes together... a guy named Leo that's greeting each of us with fist bumps and high fives, he's changing the lives of people. Mine included."

The Scale of Impact

The numbers tell one story: Wholly Kicks started with 184 pairs of shoes in their first year. This year, they'll distribute about 10,000 pairs. To date, they've reached 34,000 total pairs distributed. They spend close to $100,000 annually purchasing shoes.

But the real story is in the relationships. The school events. The shelter visits. The street outreach. The annual Santa in the Park event that started because a friend named Sunny bought a Santa suit at a thrift store and said, "We're going to the park."

Tyg thought it was a horrible idea but then they gave away 280 pairs that first December day. This year will be their sixth annual Santa in the Park, and they'll distribute 1,500 pairs of shoes with multiple nonprofit partners, sponsored by the Aurora Police Department.

Finding Purpose in Suffering

When asked about the moment that set him on this path, he points to something unexpected and missing: his thumb. He had six surgeries on it, from childhood through his freshman year of college. Back then, each surgery meant five days in the hospital at UC Health Hospital, now located just two miles from the Wholly Kicks warehouse.

"I was exposed to kids that lived in the hospital. I saw these children really... suffering. And I developed these relationships with these kids."

His original dream was to become a physician to help people escape that pain.

But then he realized something important: "I didn't want to be a doctor because I love medicine. My son is an anesthesiologist because he loves medicine, and science. I wanted to be a doctor just to help people."

He found his own path to helping.

"I really believe all Jesus did was walk around, see stuff, and do something about it. And that's how I try to live my life."

His kids used to get tired of it on vacations. "Dad, you're don’t need to stop and help that guy." His truck "always smells like weed and smoke" because he never passes someone who needs a ride. "I've never had a bad experience in my life with these moments. I'm not that guy."

The Friend Who Changed Everything

Every great movement has its catalyst, that one person who pushes harder, believes bigger, sees further. For Wholly Kicks, that person was Sunny.

He met Sunny on the streets of Colfax. He became a friend, a protector, someone who vouched for Tyg in an environment where guys who looked like him weren't always welcome. Sunny pushed Tyg constantly to do more. When he would say they were at capacity, Sunny would respond:

"We can do more."

Sunny was the one who bought that Santa suit. He was the one who pushed Tyg to think bigger. At Sunny’s last shoe event, they gave away shoe number 2,000. Today, Wholly Kicks has distributed 34,000 pairs.

Sunny got housed after years on the street, a hard-won victory for someone living with trauma and addiction. He lived in that warm safe apartment for less than a year before he died in a chair. "He died housed," Tyg says with quiet significance.

Recently, Sunny's mother reached out. She now donates monthly in honor of her son and his wife Erica, who died a year after Sunny, both in their 30s. "Those relationships stay with you," he reflects.

"He used to always say we could do more. He was right. And the reason why we need to do more is because more people can be touched by what we do."

How You Can Help

Wholly Kicks operates on a simple principle that he states plainly: "We need money, shoes, and volunteers."

They purchase most shoes from large stores and vendors, with a volunteer named Lindsay handling the bulk of procurement. They maintain careful inventory, creating alerts when specific sizes drop below 30 pairs.

The warehouse receives constant deliveries. (Tyg has even developed relationships with delivery drivers, hooking one young woman up with shoes because "she's working her tail off to survive.")

They secure funding through individual donors, foundation grants, and partnerships. Their relationship with Fox 31 Denver and Denver Metro Brokers this summer generated $17,000 through June fundraising campaigns. Some larger funders who knew him from his pastoral days continue supporting the mission.

But they're honest about where they are: "We need to really push into the grant world next year."

Recently, they received an unexpected gift that perfectly illustrates how innovation can transform lives: 30 pairs of shoes from BILLY Footwear. These aren't your typical sneakers. The entire upper of each shoe zips open and folds over, allowing someone to place their foot straight onto the insole before zipping the shoe closed around it.

Originally designed by a co-founder who became permanently injured and needed shoes he could put on independently, BILLY shoes have become a game-changer for anyone who struggles with traditional footwear. For kids wearing AFOs (ankle-foot orthoses), dealing with limited hand dexterity, or facing mobility challenges, these zip-up shoes eliminate the daily frustration of wrestling with laces and tight openings.

Tay "harangued them and sent enough notes," and BILLY Footwear responded with both shoes and swag. He notes,

"These shoes can change lives. They'll stay on. You don't have to tie them, and they feel just right for so many wearers."

For Wholly Kicks, they represent another way to serve kids and adults who deserve footwear that works for their lives, not against them.

The Bigger Picture

What Tyg has built with Wholly Kicks represents something larger than shoe distribution. It's a model for dignity-centered service. For meeting people exactly where they are. For removing barriers instead of adding them.

It's about recognizing that a child walking out of shoes at school because they're wearing their parents' footwear isn't just about poverty, it's about dignity. About belonging. About feeling like you matter enough for someone to notice.

It's about understanding that when you force someone to produce identification, fill out intake forms, and prove their worthiness before receiving help, you're sending a message louder than the help itself.

And it's about that conversation in an alley seven years ago, when a man in a sparkly blue bow tie reminded him that we can only walk in the shoes God gives us, but we can make sure everyone has a good pair to walk in.

His journey from frustrated pastor to street minister to nonprofit founder wasn't what anyone predicted. His former congregation probably thought he'd lost his way. But standing in that warehouse today, surrounded by bins of carefully sorted shoes, working alongside Tay and volunteers with disabilities, preparing for the next school event or shelter visit, it's clear he found exactly the path he was meant to walk. Tyg shares that,

"If you have street smarts, you can survive anything."

But the real wisdom isn't just about surviving. It's about seeing suffering and doing something about it. It's about giving people choice when the world has taken so many choices away. It's about showing up consistently, relationally, without judgment or conditions.

It's about 34,000 pairs of shoes and counting.