As a proud veteran,
I have seen some significantly homophobic things in my adult life. Which was
really shocking to me; I grew up in a relatively accepting family and I never
saw any sort of homophobia, prejudice, racism (beyond the normal jokes that all
older people think is funny), or anything else along those lines. So, when I
joined the military, I didn't really understand the total ramifications of the “Don’t
Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. Needless to say, it wasn't something that I even
thought about when I got to Basic. I understood that my leadership couldn't know or they would be legally obligated to start a discharge for homosexual
behavior. I was one of eight lesbians/bisexuals in my bay (basically a giant
dorm with bunk beds and no privacy) and we all kept to ourselves in a little
group that we knew was safe. But I fucked up; my best friend from Basic,
someone I am still close to, needed my journal for something. I honestly can’t
even remember what at this point. But, because we were so close, I didn't even
think twice about letting her use it. I assumed she would lock it up in her
locker when she was done with it, but I didn't actually tell her to do that. So when she was done, she left my bright purple notebook on my bunk and left the
bay. Leaving my journal, full of lesbian details, snippets of every
conversation, thought, and gay intrigue that crossed my mind throughout the
day, in the open. Out in the open where one of the Drill Sergeants found it. So
our bay was tossed (meaning that it was destroyed, mattresses everywhere,
blankets a mess, everything out of order so that we could clean it up later)
and the notebook disappeared. Thanks to some sarcastic, cryptic comments from
my female Drill Sergeant, I knew that she had taken the notebook and the mess
in the bay was punishment for the infraction. Nobody got into trouble for
anything written, but I felt like shit for a long time. Essentially, I had put
all of the gay girls in my bay at risk, and put myself at even greater risk. I could
have ruined my career with a few sentences left on a bunk, and it really hit
home for me what the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” really meant for women like me.
Shortly after all of
that, another girl (who none of us knew was gay) came out to our Drill
Sergeants and used that to get out of the military. She didn't finish training,
she didn't even have to participate after initiating her own chapter process. I
had been told that you could get kicked out, but everyone was willing to just
turn a blind eye to the homosexuals in training, so it was strange to see them
actually chaptering her out. But realistically she didn't give them much
option, she told every single leader that she could that she was gay and that
she absolutely did not want to stay in the military. So, in a short eight
weeks, I had quite a few brushes with the ‘man’ in terms of homosexual conduct
and it was actually a major eye opener. Luckily, the DADT was repealed and the
gays can serve in peace, with all the rainbow pride they can muster.
After finishing
Basic Training and my job training (Advanced Individual Training), I finally
got sent to Fort Riley, and that was the first time in my entire life that I
was targeted for my sexual orientation. I bought my first car, a gorgeous
little Pontiac Vibe in deep blue that glittered in the sunlight and never did
me wrong. The first thing I did to personalize it was to put a little peace
sign magnet with rainbow stripes on the back hatch, and I left it at that. I didn't
put a “gay and proud” sticker across my window, nothing that screamed “I like
pussy” or any other lesbian obscenity. I bought the car on a Saturday morning,
put the magnet on it on a Saturday afternoon, and Monday morning when I left my
barracks room to go to work, I was called to my First Sergeant’s office. She
proceeded to tell me that one of the NCOs (basically a lower level of leader)
had complained about my gay pride magnet, that it offended him and that I was
required, because of the DADT to take the magnet off of my car. Of course, my
personal vehicle can have whatever I want on it (I served as a paralegal, so I
was well aware of the rules and regulations) and I politely refused. I was
threatened with being chaptered from the military for homosexual behavior, but
I didn't back down. My First Sergeant agreed to do more research and to leave
the issue alone for the time being, and I went about my day as if nothing
happened. But the next day when I went to my car, the magnet was gone. Someone
had taken it off of my car and gotten rid of it. I was informed later that day
that the NCO who had complained had actually taken it off of my car and thrown
it away, making its removal a moot point.
But I wasn't okay
with that. It was just a damn magnet, but it was also so much more than that.
That magnet quickly became a symbol of the first time that I was ever targeted for
my sexuality, forced to cover it up and hide it from the world over something
as stupid as a suggestive magnet that I could have just liked because of a
rainbow. I ended up being right in the end, my unit was told that they can’t
control what I have on my personal vehicle and when I replaced the magnet I
never got more than a few dirty looks for the incident. I had to make a huge
deal out of it, I made a target of myself for defending my right to have a damn
magnet on my car. A lot of the lesbians I knew from units around Fort Riley didn't agree with me, they were too scared of being targets themselves and I
understand that.
Although the victory
over the magnet was not a huge one, it was not one that would tip the scales in
one direction or another, it was a victory that showed me that ignorance can be
fought with a bit of persistence and education. It was a victory that showed me
that it doesn't take much other than a level head to make a real difference.
The magnet was a symbol of the smallest change in my life that really meant the
world to me. At the time, it was one that I was so proud of and so honored to
have claimed for myself. All it was, in reality, was a lesson to that
leadership about the lines that were present in the personal and professional
lives of their soldiers. But I would like to think that those leaders took that
lesson and applied it appropriately in the future.
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