As the 37th annual Noho Pride march and stage events are upon us (Saturday, rain or shine), I find myself reflecting on the personal and political implications of coming out.
In the summer of 1980, I discovered my lesbian self. I was nearly 20 years old. It is interesting to me that I did not have the guilt and shame so many lesbians and gay men experienced when they came out then.
My adoptive parents and I did not fit together very well, and in a strange sense, I felt free to be myself. Despite being raised Catholic, I did not think anything was wrong with me when I came out. I did know that others did not share my sentiment, and I knew to be safely closeted in much of my goings-on in Lexington, Kentucky.
When I gradually came out to my parents and others, let’s just say the news was not met with unconditional love. At a pivotal time when I needed support in various ways, I became estranged from my parents and remained peripherally involved with them until later in their lives when my partner and I helped them through illness and death processes between 2006 and 2010. (I was able to have a few much better years with my dad during this time.)
The other time I “came out” to them was when I discovered I was doing the most profound work of my life as a justice of the peace serving same-sex couples and other couples from all walks of life beginning in 2004 when Massachusetts became the first state in the country to legalize marriage equality. My adoptive dad, Jim, responded, “As lifelong Catholics, we cannot fathom this.”
My heart sank as I knew, once again, this journey was just mine. By then, I was 43 years old and too hurt by the response and too into the absolute beauty of the movement to want to taint my heart with anger and argument. That was that.
Fast forward to 2018. I found my birth mother. When I wrote a first letter, I had no idea that she would return a letter or Google me. She found my website, mention of my LGBT, social justice and health care advocacy work and columns I have written for the Gazette. In her very first correspondence, she wrote, “I have gone on your website and seen your picture and read a little about you. It seems that you have lived your life guided by the strength of your convictions, and I very much admire that. I believe there will be no awkwardness between us with regard to our world view.”
In that instant, my mother whom I had never met expressed admiration for who I am. During my search, it did not occur to me one way or another that my identity would be an issue. Well, at age 57, I have indeed come out to a parent who supports all of who I am! When we first met in person in March, we were each able to be honest and open about our life challenges and blessings.
I was intellectually prepared to find out birth information, yet I was ill-equipped to understand the profundity of emotions that would occur the moment I met my birth mother. When we first embraced, I felt held by her as I have never felt in my life.
We “came out” together during this process and it is continuing to unfold. As it turns out, we were both born in Pittsburgh but have lived in Massachusetts most of our adult lives. I am her only daughter.
This multi-faceted coming out story has me reflecting on the lifelong process of discovery and gifts that come our way if we are brave and vulnerable enough to receive them. It remains to be seen where this relationship will go. What is certain is the mutuality of respect for who we are and how we have served others. Already, so much healing all the way around.
This May, I will be immersed in our annual Noho Pride events as always.
In addition, I will be celebrating Mother’s Day and coming out to this new, beautiful presence in my life.
J.M. Sorrell, of Haydenville, is the spokesperson for Noho Pride. She has served 765 couples since 2004 as a wedding officiant. She is a long-time social justice activist and health care advocate.