Fearful of being labeled “the gay kid” or “faggot” rather than being known for the caliber of Airman I was becoming, I made the decision to keep my head down and focus on being the best. Through tireless work, long nights, and extra rotations, I began winning awards at my first duty assignment; eventually, these merits built upon each other and became a steady flow. I was awarded BTZ in front of my flight and peers, and when I was called to the front of my formation my Commander asked, “Are you not happy?” To my complete embarrassment I realized that I was not smiling. My expression was empty. I quickly threw on the face I had become accustomed to showing to the world: a hollow smile, the same one that I put on when my Flight Chiefs bashed gays when they thought there were none in the room. I was courteous and did what was expected of me. I shook, took and saluted, and then fell into the back of my formation with a greater feeling of shame than ever before. I could never know for certain the answer to the question that nagged at me: Would they have given this to me if they knew I was gay?

My plan had failed. Early rank, admiration, and a stupid plaque were supposed to make me feel worthy. Weren’t they? I took a hard look at myself and came to the conclusion that as long as I continued to live behind a façade I would never be happy. Over the next few months I came out to a few members of my family and some of my peers. Although it was difficult at times, I felt liberated, especially when I found that many of my friends were supportive; in fact, they were excited for me! Over the course of a year it became known throughout my squadron that I was gay, but what was better known is that I was an Airman with answers, an Airman who raised newer flight members, and an Airman who could be counted on. I was outspoken but professional. The slurs gradually faded around me, but they were not absent; a select few still refused to hide their intolerance. Although I heard stories from peers about Airmen attacking me for being gay, others were quick to defend my character and the personal attacks were eventually abated. For the first time, I enjoyed an environment in which I was comfortable and at home in my squadron, no longer distanced by hatred and fear.

Unfortunately, this security would not last. I was due to return back to the U.S. for my next duty assignment.

This time when I reported into my training section I was much more self-aware. Knowing I was no longer in my comfort zone, I decided to gauge my environment before I allowed others the opportunity to attack me for being gay. To my complete frustration, it seemed like the clock had been turned back. Every five minutes I would hear, “that kid is a faggot”, “she’s a dyke”, and “this is gay, that is gay.” No one championed for gays in this environment. I didn’t want to go to training, because I was disgusted by these comments. Hours before the weekend began, our Chief, a man whose reputation preceded him, came to speak to us. He was a hero to the younger generation. During his briefing he joked with us, making us laugh. Then he joked with me. He made a joke that I was gay without any prior knowledge that I actually was, and I was momentarily the laughingstock of the room. I immediately reverted to the self-conscious Airman I had been at the clearing barrel years ago. I realized that there must be others in this fresh group of Airmen from tech school who were gay and were subject to the exact same intolerance that I was. I was so furious I considered making a complaint to the Equal Opportunity Office or the Inspector General. After several days of building the nerve, I decided instead to make use of his famous “open door policy.”

I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t terrified, which I confessed as I sat down to speak with him after closing his office door. Respectfully, I addressed what happened the previous Friday. I could see immediately that he regretted the way his words had affected one of his Airmen. I told him that I was gay and that while I understood that what he had said may have been light hearted, those kinds of comments could compromise the unity of our workplace and strike fear and shame into those who were not quite ready to make their sexual orientation known to the world. He assured me that what had occurred would never happen again, and that he meant no harm. He extended his hand before I left his office.

From my experience, I have learned that there have been so many great leaps made for equality in the past few years, but within certain settings in the military being “gay” is still something of a fictitious thing. Though people are aware that gays serve in the military, they don’t necessarily think that there is somebody gay in their unit. This lack of awareness allows them to demean gays—often in the presence of gay service members—because they are not visible if they haven’t come out to their unit. Until this thinking is challenged directly, it will continue, especially if it is condoned by our leaders. But when a face is put to the name “faggot” or “dyke,” others begin to realize that those so disparaged are their peers, friends, and family members. I’m still the same Airman and the same professional, but if we are to finish where “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” fell short, it’s important for service members to see that they serve alongside gays too.

– Anonymous, USAF

This is a true story and the author is anonymous to prevent further attention from media. The purpose of this story to help service members across all branches find their voice in the face of adversity. Unfortunately, sexual orientation is not protected under MEO, so this service member, as much as he may have liked  to seek recourse outside his chain of command, would not have had an avenue for doing so. OutServe-SLDN continues to call on the military to formally enact sexual orientation and gender identity protections for service members.

Sue Fulton, left, and Penelope Gnesin exchange wedding vows at West Point’s Cadet Chapel in December.
(Photo: Jeff Sheng, OutServe-SLDN via AP)

And supporting “traditional marriage” trips over the historic notions of marriage that included polygamy, arranged marriages, and wives as property.

The idea that marriage is about procreation falls apart unless you are willing to deny marriage to the thousands of straight couples who can’t or don’t have kids. And if they’re so worried about kids, what about the thousands of kids being raised by same-sex couples who lack marriage rights?

The latest volley came from protesters at the Supreme Court, who carried signs saying “Kids deserve a mom and a dad” – and there’s video of a child asking the question, “Which of my parents would you take away, my mom or my dad?” What a horrible thing to suggest to a child. Marriage equality has no impact on children of straight parents. Perhaps the protesters would take children away from the same-sex parents who are raising them to give them to some random straight couple? Maybe one of those children could have asked the question, “Which of my Moms would you take away?”

Yesterday’s op-ed pushed a bizarre new argument, suggesting that a marriage that didn’t include a woman was somehow sexist, like Augusta National excluding women. Uh, really? So a marriage of two white people is, by extension, racist?

Face it. The only real argument is that the idea of giving gays and lesbians the right to marry makes some people uncomfortable. And that we haven’t done it before, so why change now? The rest is irrational rationalization – logic that falls apart when you poke at it.

So finally, what about the hesitation to make a change? Why not, as some Justices seem to suggest, wait a few more years (or decades) and see how this plays out? Because we HAVE waited. Same-sex marriage didn’t start in 2000 when it was legalized in Denmark, it started the first time a gay or lesbian couple took each other’s hand, looked each other in the eye, and made a lifetime commitment to have and to hold. And there are people who shouldn’t have to wait any more.

I married Penny at West Point, not just because I am an Academy graduate and Army veteran, but also because our home state of New Jersey doesn’t have marriage equality yet. Penny is a breast cancer survivor, dealing with the M.S. that has taken her ability to walk. How long should I wait?

Marine Captain Matthew Phelps is being transferred to Japan in a few weeks, and the Marine Corps, as much as they’d like to treat him like other Marines, can’t send his husband with him. Army Major Casey Moes, a decorated combat vet, paid for her wife to come with her to her assignment in Hawaii – now they are paying exorbitant fees out of pocket for Laurie Ann’s unexpected medical problems. How do we tell these service members to wait, that even though the majority of Americans want them treated fairly, we should wait for the hold-outs?

My friend, Army Chief Warrant Officer Charlie Morgan, of the New Hampshire National Guard, tried to live long enough for her wife Karen to get the military benefits that would help her raise their daughter Casey Elena. She didn’t make it. We buried her in February.

We wept as the Honor Guard carefully folded the American flag that covered Charlie’s coffin; the sergeant takes a moment to touch the flag to the coffin, just a moment, before he presents that flag to the general with a slow ceremonial salute. The general then gently knelt and said a few hushed, urgent words of comfort to Charlie’s wife, Karen, before he stood and rendered his own somber salute.

The New Hampshire National Guard knows marriage when they see it.

***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Brenda S. “Sue” Fulton is a founding Board member of OutServe and previously served as Communications Director for the organization. She is also Executive Director of Knights Out, an organization of LGBT West Point graduates and allies. Fulton graduated West Point in 1980, and left the military as a Captain after company command in Germany. Fulton has worked in the private sector since then and is currently employed at Pfizer. In July 2011, President Obama appointed her to the U.S. Military Academy Board of Visitors. She currently lives in Asbury Park, New Jersey, with her longtime partner, Penny Gnesin.

For those not familiar with the procedural machinations of the Supreme Court, today the Court ordered writs of certiorari, aka approval for judicial review, to hear two landmark cases concerning same-sex marriage in America.  In order for the Court to take a case, only four Justices need to approve a case (of course five votes are ultimately needed to decide it).  With that being said, what really matters when the Court decides to hear a case is what “questions presented” the Justices ask the parties in a case to argue to them, and that is why today was so important.  More on this in just a moment.

For court watchers, today was so suspenseful because the Court had ten different cases concerning same-sex marriage to choose from when they met in conference.  Would they take the case out of Massachusetts, Gill v. Office of Personnel Management (profiled in this magazine in our May/June 2011 issue), thus denying a full review by the Supreme Court since Justice Elena Kagan would likely have recused herself due to prior work on the case?  Or would the court take the famous “Prop 8” case out of California, where the blockbuster lawyers David Boies and Ted Olsen (famous for being on opposite sides of the Bush v. Gore case that decided the 2000 election) who are arguing the pro-gay marriage side?

At 3:13 eastern time today, the Court put all that speculation to rest.  It would take not one, but two same-sex marriage cases.  The first, Hollingsworth v. Perry (the Prop 8 case) has the court considering perhaps the most monumental judicial question of our lifetimes: does the constitution allow for states to ban marriage between same-sex couples?  The Justices could have gone small, asking the parties to answer only case-specific questions, for example, only reviewing whether the act of taking away a right to marry was constitutional, a decision whose implications would have only affected the citizens in California.  If you remember, gay marriage was legal for a short time in California until voters in 2008 took that right away.  But the Court did not take up that narrower question.

The second case the Supreme Court granted review on, United States v. Windsor, concerns Edie Windsor and her now deceased spouse Thea Spyer.  The two had lived together as registered domestic partners since 1993.  When Windsor’s wife died in 2009, Windsor was forced to pay $363,053 in estate taxes that she would not have had to pay if the federal government recognized their marriage.  The case directly challenges section three of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), which defines marriage as between a man and a woman for the purposes of over 1,000 federal benefits.  More broadly, this case concerns issues of federalism, specifically what power states have to enforce certain rights and how the federal government can influence states to do its bidding.

Of the two cases at issue here, the Windsor case looks particularly appealing for a win, as its ruling could potentially not be as sweeping in scope.  If the court were to rule in favor of Windsor, for example, it would not necessarily mean that DOMA would be completely overturned; in fact, the Court could rule that only section three is unconstitutional and still allow the states to individually enforce the other sections of DOMA as they saw fit.  Crucially, the powerful emotional story of Edie and Thea could possibly sway enough Justices with more conservative notions of what it means to be married into a pro same-sex marriage position.

Finally, the Court in its order today also allowed for another possible outcome: none at all.  In a rare move, the Court issued questions it wanted answered to parties on both sides of both cases (usually the questions are presented to the Justices and they pick which ones they want to consider).   The court asked if both parties had standing to even challenge the case, in other words, could these petitioners even challenge the law.  Theoretically, the Justices could rule that neither party has standing and dismiss both cases from the Court until the issue resurfaces with parties that do indeed have standing.  This is unlikely, but still well within the realm of possibility.

The only sure thing we know from today is that at some point around March, the Supreme Court for the very first time will consider issues of same-sex rights as it relates to marriage.  A momentous, albeit terrifying moment for many gay and lesbian Americans to be sure.  At a time where public opinion is rapidly shifting to a more inclusive definition of marriage, the Supreme Court has firmly inserted itself into this historic debate.  Will the Court aim for a Brown v. Board of Education type of outcome?  Only time will tell of course, but this writer (not so) secretly thinks yes.

Next up: oral arguments!

–

This article is the sole opinion of OutServe Magazine contributors and does not reflect the position or official endorsement of OutServe-SLDN organization.

Allyson Robinson, her wife Danyelle and their four children at their home in Maryland. Photo taken by Jo Ann Santangelo for her multimedia essay, Proud to Serve: Portraits of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Veterans.

By Jonathan Mills

As I sat in the conference room at OutServe-SLDN headquarters, waiting on the new executive director to sit down with me for one of her first interviews since being named as the leader of our newly combined organization, I began reviewing the material I had gathered for the interview. Though I had only one page of questions, there was a book’s worth of material in my mind that I had been going back and forth between —erasing and swapping some questions in my notes, and debating whether or not to add or delete more.

Here I was, about to interview the first executive director of OutServe-SLDN—and not just the first executive director, but one of the first visible transgender leaders in the entire movement. What does this mean for us? What does this mean for the movement? Is it too soon? Will our membership rally behind her? There was so much to ask, yet so little time to capture her biography in the space that had been devoted to this article.

Then my iPhone gave off its irritating little tri-tone alert. I looked down and saw an email from our trans columnist, Brynn Tannehill. I had told her earlier in the day that I would be meeting with Allyson and had reached out to her to see if there were any questions she thought would be of interest from her perspective. As I tapped the notification and the email popped up on my screen, I began to read her questions. And then it hit me.

Yes, people want to know what their leaders are going to do for them. Political races are full of agendas and 5-step plans. But when it comes down to it, people want a connection. They want to know that the person leading them is in their corner. They want to believe that if their leader’s vision, background and motivations align with their own, somehow, everything else will fall into place. And as that realization sunk in, I scrapped most of my notes just as Allyson walked in and took her place at the head of the table.

OutServe Magazine Nov/Dec 2012 Cover. Photo by David Small.

“The military is family for me,” Allyson said. “I grew up in a military family. My dad is a Vietnam veteran, his father was a veteran of World War II, so in many ways, the Army was our family business. So, this feels like coming home for me in a lot of ways.”

I had asked what motivated her to leave Human Rights Campaign and pursue the mission of equality with OutServe-SLDN. Struggling to figure out how to restructure the interview around my ‘aha!’ moment, I was trying to shift focus away from her agenda and more toward her, and this redirection was unnerving. How do you capture someone’s being in an article?

The moment she had entered the room, I felt compelled to jump out of my seat and stand at attention, just as I would if my commander had just walked in—not out of habit, really, more so because of her. Her quiet authority is an invisible presence, felt by everyone who has had the opportunity to speak with—or just be in the same room as her. It’s simply indescribable, other than to say she projects a calm assuredness and sincerity that makes one sit up and realize: this woman is a leader.

“One of the things that I learned from my dad is what it really means to lead. Leadership is about service. He made it very clear to me that he was in it for his Soldiers, and that if I was going to be a leader … then I needed to be in it for my people.”

‘So, who were her people?’ I wondered. I knew that she was from Scranton, Penn., and was a 1994 graduate of the U.S. Military Academy, where she majored in physics. She interned at the Los Alamos National Laboratory and commanded Patriot missile units in the United States, Germany and Saudi Arabia, and had even been a senior trainer and evaluator for NATO and advisor to the armed forces of Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Qatar.

“Leadership is service. I remember my dad telling me how when his unit would go into the field and it would be time for chow, how he and his commander would linger back and wait for everyone else to go through the chow line first. And as a kid, that kind of struck me as odd. What about, ‘rank hath its privileges?’ Couldn’t you just step up to the front of the line and get the hottest food and have the most time to enjoy it? I’ve understood all my life why you can’t do that and why you don’t do that. And I think that value, which is so deeply a part of me, is a strength that I bring into this work.”

‘Allyson is a service member and a natural military leader,’ was my first thought.

But after resigning her commission in 1999 to pursue a calling in the ministry, Allyson went on to work in the Azores and central Texas, devoting herself to the issue of systemic poverty. She then returned to school, earning her master’s degree from Baylor University with an emphasis in social justice in 2007.

‘Allyson is a service member with a heart for serving not just her country, but her world.’

Prior to accepting her new position at OutServe-SLDN, Allyson headed the Human Rights Campaign Workplace Project, helping corporate human resource departments and emphasizing the value of inclusion and empowerment of LGBT professionals in the workforce. Her efforts also promoted awareness of transgender issues, driving corporate responsibility toward inclusion and equality of transgender people. “Some of the work I’ve done has prepared me for this role. Within the context of the movement and what it means to be a collaborative leader, a leader in partnerships with others, I’ve seen the importance of that in policy and legislative fights all over the United States. I believe in it because it works.”

It was my third realization that bought shape to this article. ‘Allyson is a service member with a heart for serving, and she has the vision to lead our organization, our country and our world toward progress.’ 

Several leaders within the organization had confided to me that if there had been any reservations about bringing Allyson onto the team, they were swiftly forgotten when she met with the Board and shared her heart and vision for securing equality for every service member and enhancing the readiness and effectiveness of the nation’s military. Her initial plan centered on two key issues: families and open trans service.

Photo by Jonathan Mills/OutServe Magazine

“The tasks that are ahead of us are very, very clear,” Allyson said. “We need to continue to press for equity of benefits for all of our service members,” referring to the current lack of health coverage, base access and family housing among other inequalities for families of LGBT service members. “Many of these benefits can be given with the stroke of a pen, right now, by our leaders at the Pentagon. We’ll continue to push to see that happen.”

This fight is as much recognition that military families are “force multipliers” as it is a personal one. Allyson credits her own success to her crew at home. She met her wife, Danyelle, at West Point in 1991, and together, they have four children, Truman, Jubilee, Deacon and Herald, all born on or around military bases in different parts of Europe. “They are my strongest support, my truest allies and my greatest inspiration.”

Though the discriminatory “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) policy was repealed last year, the new legislation does not address the continued discrimination toward transgender military professionals. Unlike DADT, the ban on transgender service lies within service medical policies versus law set by Congress

When I asked what she would say to those who have expressed concerns about the lack of movement on the rights of trans service members to serve openly, her response left no room for doubt in my mind, nor did it leave anyone doubting at the annual International Leadership Conference in Orlando last month where most OutServe-SLDN members heard her speak for the first time. In fact, it reminded me of a moment when a newly elected President Obama in 2009 promised that “we will get it done,” referring to the repeal of DADT.

Just as President Obama’s quiet resolution transformed vision into action, so too will Allyson’s spirit of resolve. It made me want to run down the three flights of stairs into the streets of DC and shout, “we’re going to do this!” That resolve was so palpable, I feel as if the conference table and every other inanimate object in that room could have come alive and followed right behind.

“This is a fight that is important to us. And, together, we’re going to win this fight, just like we did ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,’” she said. “It’s going to take different methods, and it’s going to take time, but we are committed to winning. And we’re going to win.”

Sept. 20, 2011, may have been the day that “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) officially ended in the United States, but the moment of truth for me came a few months later, during Christmas. It was our group’s holiday party, and I was bringing my boyfriend to the festivities. Throughout my time serving under DADT, I never really ‘hid’ who I was from my colleagues. I was open to those I was close to, my family knew, and I was not at all ashamed. But as I walked up the snow-trodden path to the hotel dining room, looking through the restaurant’s glass at all my colleagues with their wives and husbands, I began to panic.

I squeezed my boyfriend’s hand and felt my fingers slip through his grasp. I was sweating—it was 5 degrees outside. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. “What’s wrong?” my boyfriend asked. I shook my head and grabbed his hand again. “Let’s go.” As we slowly made our way up the hill, I realized for the first time the visceral impact this law had had on me. Yes, I had vociferously championed its demise in the very pages of this magazine. Yes, I had come out publicly the day of repeal. But at this all-important moment when my colleagues were about to meet my “significant other,” I quite literally choked.

As we entered the door and hung our coats, I shamefully asked my boyfriend to wait in the foyer, alone, while I ran to the bathroom. I busted through the door and ran to the sink, I felt my insides squirm and realized my throat was completely dry. I drank some water and splashed it over my face. OK, I thought, I can do this.I emerged from the bathroom and found my boyfriend patiently waiting by the coat rack looking at his phone. “You ready now?” he joked. I had been ready for four years, I wanted to say, but my actions had proven otherwise. I smiled and led him to the restaurant.

When we look back at the past year of open service, it is important to celebrate the firsts that this first year has been all about. Like the first marriage on a military base between two men, Air Force Tech. Sgt. Erwynn Umali and Will Behrens. Or the first openly gay flag officer in the U.S. military, Army Reserve Brig. Gen. Tammy Smith. Or the first pride parade in San Diego, where LGB service members could march openly and proudly. These seemingly small milestones each contribute to crafting a wider picture of equality in the American collective. Beyond those who are part of these firsts are the millions of young sons and daughters who will grow up asking the simple question to those who wish to discriminate: “So they’re gay, your point?” Niccolò Machiavelli said it best when he wrote in The Prince: “It ought to be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.”

In Tony Kushner’s Tony Award-wining play, Angels in America, one of the main characters, Prior Walter, utters what I think sums up quite well the gay movement in America over the past year: “The world only spins forward. We will be citizens. The time has come.” Change, change, change. It can never come fast enough for those who need it most, but I tend to take the long view of such things when considering how rights are established in America.

When Mr. Kushner’s play debuted, it was 1993 and in the United States gays and lesbians still did not have the right to have sex in their own private bedrooms, let alone openly serve or marry someone of their choosing on a state level. One’s partner of 20 years could be dying in the hospital room and visitation rights would be denied because he or she was not part of “the family.” Actors and actresses feared revealing their sexuality would kill their chances at landing leading roles. On the congressional level, just a handful of politicians were out.

If we compare the length of time it took for African Americans in this country to gain equal rights—a process arguably still under way—it is breathtaking in its scope. From the end of the Civil War and the ratification of the 13th amendment in 1865 to almost a century later with the Civil Rights Act of 1964, notions of equality were still disproportionally applied across all races, ethnic groups, and religious minorities, and to women, too. Even after that law’s landmark passage it took decades for African Americans and women to be treated equally. As recently as 2009, President Barack Obama signed the “Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act,” a law that stated the seemingly obvious: that it should be illegal for employers to pay unequal wages to men and women who perform substantially equal work. We have come a long way in the United States toward equality, but we still have a ways to go.

I asked my fellow service members how they felt a year after repeal, and what, if anything, surprised them most about LGB inclusion in the military. Senior Airman Brad Gilligan wrote: “In all honesty, I feel both the same and really great. For me personally, not much has changed…but, of course, there are little things that I notice. Such as, there’s not as much whispering going on around the water cooler when talking about gay topics. There’s still a lot that can be done, but I can definitely sense an overall better climate in the Air Force than when DADT was still the law.”

Maj. Mike Almy, who the Air Force famously discharged under DADT when one of his coworkers broke into his personal email and outed him, wrote: “I’m very pleased that repeal has gone so well. This highlights how professional our military is and how much of a non-issue this really was. It’s so encouraging to know that many of the people serving openly now in our armed forces are doing so right alongside their straight counterparts. Our military and our country are stronger through diversity. Unfortunately, repeal came too late to save my career, but, thankfully, no American service member will ever have to live with the heavy burden of DADT any more.” And what a burden it has been—for thousands, some whose voices now lay beyond the grave and whose stories now exist in books and memories.

In Linda Hirshman’s new book, Victory: The Triumphant Gay Revolution, she writes beautifully on the achievements LGBT citizens have garnered in America: “As the most marginalized group of Americans fought for full inclusion in the social order, they didn’t only change their world; they changed everyone’s world. Because they were different…they had to change the meaning of the core concepts of citizenship—morality, sanity, loyalty—itself.”

It was perhaps this sense of being different with something that I could have kept internal that I think riled my nerves when I took my boyfriend to our holiday party. Perhaps the best memory I have from that December night is that of laughter. When I began to introduce my boyfriend to my colleagues, there were no glares or outward looks of disgust. Instead, and not surprisingly, there was warmth and joy. Even people whom I had not expected to be as welcoming had the courtesy to seek me out and introduce themselves to my boyfriend.

Yes, in some ways, I was on display as the first openly gay person in my unit to come out. Much more important, my colleagues’ actions that night led me to feel something bigger and more important: inclusion.

So let’s celebrate, my fellow LGB service members, that we can finally be part of the American story. Well, we always have been. But this time, let’s rejoice in the fact that we can do it openly. As the indefatigable Franklin Kameny once said, “Gay is good.”

Every June, millions of global LGBT citizens come together and celebrate their queer identities. From the bustling streets of gritty New York City, to the cozy avenues in sophisticated Brussels, LGBT citizens march proudly, and sometimes defiantly, in a collective celebration of their immutable love for their own gender. Though many people relish this time to march together—in solidarity—there are still people who believe by outwardly calling attention to our inherent differences from the heteronormative culture, we do our movement a collective disservice.

“I don’t want to be treated any differently then my straight peers; I just want to live my life,” was a sentiment expressed often from active-duty troops when I asked why they chose to remain closeted after “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” repeal. I have thought a lot about this reaction lately, particularly in light of pride month. Though I deeply respect them wanting privacy, I have come to believe that such silence can no longer be tolerated in 2012.

Like it or not, being an LGBT person makes us inherently different. Though some of us may be able to pass more easily than others, it does not change whom we love. I did not choose to fall in love with a man at 21 no more than my sister chose to fall in love with a man at 25. The only choice we both had was to decide to live the lifestyle we desired openly.

For gays and lesbians, this is still no easy task, particularly in the United States, where politicians can still get away with supporting different sets of rights between gays and straights. It seems to me there can be only one proper response: if you want to be recognized, you have to allow yourself to be recognized.

This month, Anderson Cooper came out in a published letter addressed to his friend, Andrew Sullivan. In his deeply affecting letter, Cooper wrestles openly with why he shied from coming out publicly until now: “I’ve always believed that who a reporter votes for, what religion they are, who they love, should not be something they have to discuss publicly…I’ve stuck to those principles for my entire professional career.” Cooper then goes on to describe his sudden change of heart. “Recently, however, I’ve begun to consider whether the unintended outcomes of maintaining my privacy outweigh personal and professional principles. It’s become clear to me that by remaining silent on certain aspects of my personal life for so long, I have given some the mistaken impression that I am trying to hide something – something that makes me uncomfortable, ashamed or even afraid. This is distressing because it is simply not true.”

Cooper gets at a crucial point that is relevant both to this month’s Pride celebrations and in answering why we should embrace a culture of more openness: there is simply nothing wrong with who we are. Our silence about something so intrinsic to who we are has the potential to be interpreted as shame. Think of that young boy in rural Arkansas who does not have the opportunity to meet other gay men because he believes he’s the only one in town; or a young woman in Wyoming who believes she will let her family down if she does not marry a man and have kids. It is my contention that having positive role models embrace LGBT equality will provide avenues of strength and courage for young people to break free from mainstream notions of how they should feel.

So what does it mean to be queer in 2012? The answer is by no means homogenous—something to celebrate! This appreciation and acceptance for the gray areas of human sexuality are what make our world that much more colorful.

I’ll close this month’s column with Cooper’s clarion call about the importance of coming out: “I’ve also been reminded recently that while as a society we are moving toward greater inclusion and equality for all people, the tide of history only advances when people make themselves fully visible. There continues to be far too many incidences of bullying of young people, as well as discrimination and violence against people of all ages, based on their sexual orientation, and I believe there is value in making clear where I stand.”

Let us then join together, openly.

By Liza Swart

The Service Women’s Action Network held Truth and Justice: The 2012 Summit on Military Sexual Violence, May 8, in Washington, D.C.

SWAN sees itself as a civil rights organization, and continues to research and advocate on LGBT-specific issues, with a focus on issues of sexual violence.  Their vision is to make the military a safe workplace and to see the end of sexual violence in the military, resulting in a more connected and equal environment for LGBT members.

“This was the first mass globalization for sexual assault survivors on Capitol Hill,” said Katy Otto, SWAN spokesperson. “This is significant because there have been a lot of stories in the press, especially about sexual assault in the military, but those stories have not included LGBT survivors. The summit provided opportunities to get those voices out to the media.”

SWAN sees a direct correlation between sexual harassment and sexual violence, LGBT harassment and discrimination.

“I think there’s a lot of interconnectedness there,” said Otto.

Some recent changes to DoD policy do improve the sexual assault initiation and reporting practices.  The Directive-Type Memorandum (DTM) 11-063, issued 27 Dec. 2011, expedited base transfer for those service members who file unrestricted reports of sexual assaults.  Additionally, those unrestricted reports are now retained for 50 years, under DTM 11-062.  Restricted reports will be retained for five years.

The changes have been made largely to combat the culture of silence surrounding the issue, said Otto.

For those unfamiliar with restricted and unrestricted reporting, or for those who may have somehow missed the last few rounds of mandated training, a here’s a summary:

According to DoDI 6495.02 (June 23, 2006) “…[C]onfidential reporting is restricted reporting that allows a Service member… to report or disclose to specified officials that he or she has been the victim of a sexual assault.  This reporting option gives the member access to medical care, counseling, and victim advocacy, without requiring those specific officials to automatically report the matter to law enforcement or initiate an official investigation.  The restricted reporting option is only available to those sexual assault victims who are Service members; however, it may not be an option if the sexual assault occurs outside of the military installation or the victim first reports to a civilian facility and/or a civilian authority.  This will vary by state, territory, and/or overseas local agreements.”

Additionally, unrestricted reporting options are available, which diminishes the confidentiality requirement insofar as law enforcement are notified and the incident moves forward into an official investigation.

In 2011, 753 restricted and 2,439 unrestricted reports were filed, according to the DoD’s Annual Report on Sexual Assault in the Military. One hundred reports that began restricted were later converted to unrestricted.

The recent changes to policy, though welcomed, are seen as an ongoing process by SWAN, which has key changes they are currently working toward.  For example, in the security clearance form, question 21 asks for a disclosure of counseling.  Combat-related trauma counts as an exemption, and SWAN wants the same courtesy extended for sexual assault survivors.

“We would also like there to be the availability to access civil tort claims for those who feel justice wasn’t served to them in the military,” said Otto.  “We think that will really have the effect of changing the culture.  If there are real consequences people can see, if the military can feel financial consequences, it will be a better deterrent.  It will change the culture.”

SWAN is also pushing for greater access to Veterans Affairs (VA) services, specifically involving claims against the VA and sexual assault, and statistics on how many of those claims move forward into an investigation.

“We want a more responsive VA,” said Otto, “and a VA with more sexual violence counselors. As we are seeing more and more women veterans, we need a VA that provides the services that they need.”

In addition to the summit, SWAN was part of a larger coalition to the April 26 filing of an amicus curiae, or “friend of the court” brief in the United States Court of Appeals for Veterans Claims.

Cardona v. Shinseki, Vet. App. No. 11-3803, was initiated by veteran Carmen J. Cardona.  After Cardona legally married her wife in Connecticut, an application for spousal increase in her veterans’ disability benefits was denied.

“The Cardona case challenges the VA’s denial of benefits to a veteran on the basis of her sexual orientation,” said Rachel Natelson, SWAN legal advisor.  “The amicus brief focuses on the legislative history of the relevant statutes at issue. It seeks to highlight that the statutes were enacted to promote equality and inclusiveness in benefits distribution, and were never intended to deny benefits to gay and lesbian veterans.”

SWAN sees community connection as key to building momentum on the issues of LGBT benefits and sexual assault, as well as other core focus areas, such as reproductive rights and the combat exclusion policy.  For those interested in the vital work this organization champions every day, and in becoming a part of the connection in the SWAN community,
servicewomen.org is a hub of news, information, and resources.

By Aaron Belkin

I worked on “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) repeal for more than a decade, and as can be expected, some days were better than others. When times were tough, I sometimes consoled myself with imaginations about what I’d say when we finally won. I imagined a large auditorium filled with cheering people, a celebration (with balloons!) sponsored by all the pro-repeal groups. I would deliver a speech honoring all the people who fought for equality, but also featuring candid rhetoric about folks like Colin Powell who stood in the way of equality.

Maybe that fantasy was silly. But while I always knew that victory was inevitable, there was no way to predict when it would happen. And I had promised my donors and colleagues that I would remain in the fight until the end, even if it took twenty years. So, on those days when there was not much light at the end of the tunnel, I needed some way to remain hopeful. And my pretend speech was a kind of crutch to lean on.

Now that DADT repeal has become a reality, I’m seeing that there aren’t many opportunities to give speeches to cheering throngs. But I still want to take a moment to reflect on what DADT was really about. In too many cases in American history, a civil rights victory is finally achieved after a long struggle, and then people move on without learning the right lessons.

The true significance of DADT wasn’t only the shamefulness of allowing government policy to be driven by homophobia. Even more broadly, DADT was the latest example of the politics of paranoia, a toxic and divisive tradition that has reared its ugly head time and again throughout American history. The politics of paranoia is all about exaggerating the threat posed by some harmless minority that is depicted as a danger to the American way of life. Examples include red baiting in the 1950’s and anti-immigrant xenophobia now.

If we’re going to stand any chance of avoiding or softening the paranoid strain in our politics, we have to acknowledge that aspect of our culture honestly and engage in a national conversation about it. That’s why it’s so important to understand DADT in the broader context of paranoia, rather than the phony debate about unit cohesion and military readiness.

Although I never did get to deliver my grand speech about all of this, I did have the gratifying experience of confronting Elaine Donnelly with my ideas about paranoia during a debate that we held in front of 500 Air Force officers at the Air Command and Staff College at Maxwell AFB, Alabama. For those readers who don’t know who Donnelly is, she is the head of the so-called Center for Military Readiness, the leading voice against equality for gay and lesbian service members.

Aaron Belkin and Elaine Donnelly debate DADT repeal at the Air Command and Staff College, Maxwell AFB, Ala., 2010.

In more than 30 previous lectures at military universities, I had always tried to be dispassionate and to focus on the research about unit cohesion and military readiness. But at the time of my debate with Donnelly, then Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Mullen, had already testified that DADT undermines the military’s integrity. I thought there was a pretty good chance that we were going to win at some point soon. I felt it was time to go beyond unit cohesion and address the deeper, paranoid basis of opposition to DADT repeal. So, in my prepared remarks, rather than walking through the social science research, I expanded on my argument about paranoia and DADT.

The audience was predisposed to support Donnelly’s point of view and to discount mine. This was, after all, Alabama. And in fact, while audience members questioned me in polite and respectful ways, some of them tried to trip me up (Our society places a moral taboo on many sexual practices. Why should the taboo against homosexuality be lifted, and not the taboo against bigamy or bestiality?). No one pitched me a softball or asked Donnelly a hard question.

But Donnelly made several mistakes that alienated audience members, and by the end of the session, they were chatting among themselves whenever she spoke, yet you could hear a pin drop whenever I spoke. Perhaps her biggest error was cutting me off in the middle of a sentence to make a point. I let her finish her interruption, and then I said that although I had not put any preconditions on the event, I would favor a ground rule that we shouldn’t interrupt one another. As a high-strung Jew, I couldn’t care less about interruptions. But I knew that officers value good manners, and when I asked for the ground rule, the audience erupted in applause.

Near the end of the session, the moderator unexpectedly asked me if I had any concluding remarks. I knew that there were foreign officers in the audience, so I asked if representatives from Canada, Australia and Britain would take the microphone and say whether any of Donnelly’s dire predictions about the disastrous consequences that would follow from repeal had come to pass in their militaries. One by one, they stood up and said that nothing bad had happened in their countries post-repeal. The British officer added that there were probably 20 gay and lesbian officers in the audience that day who didn’t have a voice of their own, and that once the rest of the audience got to know who they are, they would realize that they have a lot in common. The Australian officer suggested that he was offended by some of the terminology that had been used during the debate including the phrases “gay agenda,” “special class” and “new forms of sexual misconduct.”

Interestingly enough, the Air Force filmed our session and was planning to give Donnelly and me a copy of the DVD. We even filled out release forms beforehand. But the commandant of the Air Command and Staff College was very upset about my appeal to the foreign officers. I’m not sure why that upset him so much. Maybe he thought I had put them on the spot. Maybe he thought that they had embarrassed Donnelly by showing that her concerns about repeal were without basis. From my point of view, the foreign officers were adults who, presumably, had the competence to make life-and-death decisions. And if they didn’t want to answer my questions publicly, they could have simply declined.

While I cannot say with certainty why he was upset, the commandant refused to release the DVD to me. I wanted that DVD badly because Donnelly had shielded herself from scrutiny for so long by avoiding debate, and this was a unique opportunity to illustrate my point about the politics of paranoia. So, I tried every avenue to obtain the DVD, including a FOIA request as well as asking a member of Congress to request that someone in the Defense Secretary’s office call Maxwell on my behalf to get it.

I had almost given up hope of obtaining the DVD, but just this month, I finally received a copy, which I posted at www.HowWeWon.com. (As a courtesy to audience members who may not have wanted to reveal their identities, I blurred their voices and uniforms.) So, if you’re interested in the lessons of DADT, take a look at the video. You can judge for yourself whether you think there’s a paranoid basis to opposition to DADT repeal, and whether you think that’s an important lesson for the future of American politics. And, for a broader discussion of DADT repeal and the debate with Donnelly, see chapter six of my new eBook, “How We Won: Progressive Lessons from the Repeal of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.’” If you’re so inclined, feel free to e-mail me at belkin@palmcenter.org to let me know what you think. In the meantime, enjoy the video, and happy DADT-repeal to all of you.

Aaron Belkin is author of “How We Won: Progressive Lessons from the Repeal of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’” and director of the Palm Center.

Now that DADT no longer looms over America’s military, many of its troops now face a new, and equally difficult challenge: the process of coming out. The stresses and uncertainty of how people will react can be paralyzing, especially if you really care about the person you are telling.

For me, coming out to my parents was one of the hardest challenges I have had to face. While the possibility of them not accepting me for who I am was terrifying, I knew I couldn’t continue to hide from them. I toyed around with the idea for a while, and can vividly recall sitting on the couch at my friend Derek’s house this past January. We had a deep and philosophical discussion about being gay and in the military, and after hearing about how he came out to his parents, my mind was made up. The next time I saw my Mom and Dad, I was going to tell them.

Coming out, I firmly believe, is part art and part science…over the next few months, I deliberated on the logistics of the matter. First off, I decided to tell them face to face. No other means of communicating the message seemed adequate or respectful enough. I knew my parents would have questions to which I owed an answer on the spot – no phone call or handwritten letter would do.

The next decision I had to make was a matter of syntax. I needed to find the right words, which turned out to be easier said than done. I was worried about there being too much build-up. If I danced around the subject too long I feared the conversation would either get sidetracked and I would whimp out, or they would assume something was seriously wrong. Is our son in trouble? Is he dropping out of the military? Is he getting deployed somewhere dangerous? I didn’t want to do that to them.

For the next two months, I practiced telling them. In the aviation community, we call this “chair-flying”, and I did a lot of it. I found myself practicing whenever I was alone. On more than one occasion, I’m sure I was that crazy person carrying on an imaginary conversation from across the traffic light.

After work one Friday, I made the six hour drive home. That night, I went out to dinner with my parents, and afterwards, met up with some of my best friends from high school. I told my buddy Mike, who is also gay and out to his parents, what I was up to. As he gave me a huge hug and told me how proud he was, I made him promise to not let me chicken out.

Even though I could barely sleep that night, the next day seemed to come all too quickly. Just as I had planned, I took them to lunch, went shopping with my dear, sweet mother, and spent the day with them. Call it “buttering them up,” but I wanted to remind my parents of how much I love them … and in the event of that worst case scenario, I could have one last, great day together with Mom and Dad.

As soon as we got back to the house, I told them I needed to talk to them about something. Before my parents could scatter about their Saturday business, I brought them into the family room and let them get comfortable. At long last, the “chair-flying” paid off and the words came out flawlessly:

“Mom, Dad, I’m tired of hiding a big part of my life and not being entirely honest with you. I’m gay.”

I knew at some point they would have something to say, so I paused there to give them a chance to speak. I think they were still too shell-shocked at this point to say anything, so I continued on.

We talked for the next two hours, I continued to tell them how being gay was no big deal and that my relationship with them was unchanged. I still loved them, still wanted to get married and adopt a kid or two, and was still the same son they did such a good job of raising.

The conversation ended with a big hug between the three of us. I decided to give them some alone time to talk without me. I left the house for a few hours, and my mother said she has never seen my father cry so hard. Initially, it was hard on them … but I must say, I’m impressed at the courage they displayed as they promised to support me – no matter what.

Unfortunately not every coming out story will have a happy ending like mine. Call me old fashioned, but I firmly believe having support back on the home front is important to doing a good job in the military. Why fight if there is nothing at home worth fighting for? I am lucky to have such great parents, and am glad I could be there for them through this whole ordeal. They mean the world to me, and I know we have grown stronger as they have taken on the role of the parents of a gay son, and airman.

—
Karl B. Johnson is an Air Force C-17 pilot who has been serving on active duty since 2008.