By Shug Goodlow

I am 71, Black, an only child, and the oldest of nine. I was born in New York and will die a New Yorker at heart. I am an Episcopal priest. I have been with my wife for 42 years. We have two daughters and a granddaughter.

When I was invited to tell my coming-out story, I readily agreed to do so. Then I had a moment of panic. See, I don’t have a coming-out story, at least not in the usual sense. My family always had the attitude that everyone should just be who and what they are. I’ve heard “do you” and “be you” more times than I can count.

I never really had to struggle with coming out in terms of my sexuality—at least not with other people. My struggle was within. No one had ever spoken to me about the important stuff in life: banking, taxes, and sexuality. So my struggle had to do with confusion about some feelings I was having and my obsession with paisley.

I have a distinct memory of my mother’s friend coming for a weekend visit. My mother told me to make sure my room was clean because her friend would be sleeping in my room. I took extra care to make my bed and straighten my room. When my mother’s guest arrived, I took her to my room and showed her where she could freshen up. That’s what you did in those days after a long car ride; you freshened up. She wanted to take a nap, and as I turned to leave the room, she called out to me. I walked toward her; she grabbed my hand and pulled me close. She never said a word; she just held me.

I remember having a feeling I had never felt before. I felt “found,” like I was exactly where I was supposed to be but I didn’t have a name for it. Years later I would wonder if she saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself. I wondered if she was trying to help me find myself. In fact, that moment did help me find myself. I knew in that moment that I would find my true happiness in the embrace of another female.

If I had a coming out it was when I came out to myself. I would discover the truth about myself and my sexuality in high school in the back seat of a car parked on the grounds of the state mental institution. As dangerous and ridiculous as that sounds, it was the defining moment in my life. It was the moment when I came to know who I was and how I would live my life.

I think we all struggle to find our joy. My joy is centered in my ability to love and live an authentic life.

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The Rev. Shug Goodlow serves as the missioner for racial reconciliation in the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri and rector at Christ Church in Rolla, Missouri. She serves in multiple other roles throughout the church, her diocese, and enjoys being active in local community theater productions.