"Don't Ask, Don't Tell... Don't ever slip up."
Frank, a recently retired gay sailor, went through years of worries that his secret life would be discovered. “I constantly felt like I had to watch what I did,” he said.
By Kate Wiltrout
The Virginian-Pilot
September 27, 2009
NORFOLK
Since 1993, a generation of gay sailors, Marines, soldiers and airmen has learned to survive on the military's margins.
That year, President Bill Clinton prohibited the military from asking about individuals' sexual orientation - even as Congress mandated the discharge of anyone engaging in homosexual acts or identifying themselves as gay.
About 13,000 gays and lesbians have been discharged since the changes took place. Still, a far greater number of gay Americans are serving, or have served, in silence.
They walk a fine line, constantly recalculating how much of their personal lives to share with co-workers, learning which doctors and chaplains they can trust, and in the safest cases, finding bosses who subtly make clear that actions, not adjectives, are the best measure of a good sailor.
The Virginian-Pilot interviewed three gay members of the military about what it's like to serve without disclosing a key part of their identity.
Because naming them could jeopardize their careers, the newspaper agreed not to use their real names or include details that would allow them to be recognized.
Here are their stories.
Phoebe, who works on communications equipment on a Norfolk-based surface ship, is partway through her first hitch in the Navy.
Outspoken but not defensive, Phoebe said she didn't know she was gay when she enlisted. But after a few relationships with men, one of which resulted, unintentionally, in pregnancy, she realized she was a lesbian.
She laughs now about breaking two pieces of news to her surprised parents: First, she was pregnant. Second, she was gay.
It hasn't been easy, but she's managed to balance motherhood and the military. Her parents care for her child when her ship deploys.
She's a no-nonsense sailor, promoted three times in four years, and she doesn't think work and personal lives should mix too much. The bridge of a warship, she said, isn't an appropriate place to talk about intimate relationships - gay or straight.
But when you live together, and you're deployed together and you sleep in a small compartment, she said, it's hard to keep the most basic truth about yourself private.
She abides by the rules. But curse words fly when she talks about the current policy.
"I think it's bull that I could get kicked out for something that has nothing to do with the military. I can go die for my country, and I can't be gay?" she said, before letting loose with a choice expletive.
The "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy prohibits the military from inquiring about individuals' sexual tendencies and pursuing rumors of homosexual conduct. Individuals cannot talk about their sexual orientation; nor can they be harassed over perceived sexual preferences.
But federal law offers no protection if credible evidence of gay behavior comes to a commanding officer's attention. The law clearly states that gay individuals create "an unacceptable risk" to "morale, good order and discipline and unit cohesion."
Phoebe posed a theoretical question to those who think gay men and women have no place in the military. "What's worse?" she asked. "Having a terrorist attack? Or having a homo stop it?"
Although she gets tired of always having to edit her speech around co-workers, Phoebe doesn't feel particularly vulnerable.
She's confident that the commanding officer of her ship knows she's gay.
The C.O. asked her once what she thought of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." Her response was not suitable for publication.
Phoebe believes that most people in her division know her truth, but she's careful not to provide any proof.
"Everyone on my ship assumes, but I've never come out and said anything to anyone I didn't trust," she said.
She described an informal network of gay sailors on her ship.
Phoebe said she knows them all, and when asked roughly how many there are, proceeded to count them out on her fingers. About a dozen, she concluded, including officers, chiefs and enlisted sailors of both sexes.
With rare exceptions, gay sailors stationed on the same ship don't get involved in romantic relationships, she said. But it's nice to have friends who are dealing with the same issues.
When the ship pulled into a foreign port, Phoebe said, the gay sailors would often head off together to a hole-in-the-wall gay bar.
She takes some solace that under "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," superiors are not supposed to inquire about her sexuality. So as long as she's careful, she isn't too worried about being investigated.
"I could hang out with the gayest guy in the world, wearing a dress, and it wouldn't matter," Phoebe said. "Unless there's proof, there's nothing they can do."
Phoebe said concerns about gay sailors hitting on straight shipmates are overblown: "That's why we have shower curtains! There are bathroom stalls, and you have a curtain on your rack."
She also mentioned that there's plenty of illicit interaction between men and women on her ship, even though Navy policy forbids sex while a boat is under way. On a recent deployment, she said, the captain put 10 people on the ship on restriction for having sex. One case involved a tryst between an officer and an enlisted sailor, she said - a type of fraternization verboten at sea or ashore.
Although angered by what she perceives as official discrimination against gays, Phoebe said no one has been rude or discriminatory toward her.
If Congress changed the law to allow gays to serve openly, "it wouldn't change much for me," she said.
Then she conceded that it would be a weight off her shoulders: "I could walk down the road with my girlfriend's hand in mine and not worry about someone from my ship seeing me."
Richard enlisted almost 20 years ago and, until recently, didn't give much thought to what it would be like to be a gay military man.
Then, a few years ago, he accepted a truth he'd fought to bury for years: He is gay.
The acknowledgment came as a great relief, even at home. He remains married to a woman he met in the military. They have school-age children.
In some ways, their marriage is stronger now. He and his wife are no longer lovers, but they're still best friends and partners committed to raising their kids in a loving home.
Because there's so much at stake - his job, his family's health insurance, his retirement - he worries about someone discovering the truth before he's eligible to retire in a few years.
Trained in multiple foreign languages for a job that requires travel and a security clearance, he knows his skills would fetch a handsome salary in the civilian world. He would happily stay in uniform if the law changed. If it doesn't, he's prepared to retire as soon as he can.
In a recent interview with Richard and his wife in the living room of their two-story house, in a typical Hampton Roads subdivision, the couple talked about their lives.
His wife finds support on the Internet from other women married to gay men. It's not as rare as you might think, they say.
Richard has turned to the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network to learn which actions do or don't violate the law.
For example, he explains, it's OK for a soldier to go to a gay bar - but it's not OK to dance with another man. It's OK to watch a movie with a same-sex partner - but not to kiss or hold that partner's hand. It's fine to march in a gay pride parade- but not to hold a placard identifying yourself as a lesbian sailor.
Having to stay attuned to those specific legalities has worn Richard down.
He takes seriously the American ideals of justice and equality. That his own government denies him both, he said, takes its toll.
"Is our military representative of the freedoms of our nation?" he asked rhetorically. "If I can't go to the movies and hold somebody's hand, am I free?"
Having to lie about tiny things gets tiresome, and eventually, Richard said, leads to a bigger problem:
"It's important people can be true to themselves. If you can't be true to yourselves, you can't be true to the people around you."
The current policy encourages lying, he said - and even small lies about where you spent the weekend or what you watched on TV turn into a bigger breach of trust.
"When, by law, you are compelling people to lie about their personal lives, you're driving a wedge between people and their unit," he said.
He is confident the military would accept the change without much trouble.
"Saying our military can't adapt to those challenges is really selling our military short," he said.
Like Richard, Frank didn't accept being gay until after he'd married and become a father.
He enlisted to get away from home.
"I was running away from home, and it was the best way to keep a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and a little bit of change in my pocket," he said during an interview at a Virginia Beach Starbucks.
When he joined up, a few years before "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was adopted, enlistment forms asked if recruits had homosexual tendencies or experiences - and answering yes meant you couldn't serve.
Frank lied.
He didn't want to be gay. So he repressed it. He took his marriage vows seriously and stayed faithful to his wife, whom he met on duty.
His control lasted 10 years, until Frank realized he couldn't deny reality. The couple divorced. Their youngest child wasn't yet in school; the older one was in grade school.
Frank and his kids stayed together, and eventually his partner, Dave, joined them.
The arrangement was tested when Frank prepared to deploy a few years ago and Dave became the kids' guardian - taking them shopping, shuttling them to dentist and doctor appointments, overseeing their homework.
"It was rough. It was a little scary," Frank said. He knew his partner would be a good father figure, but he worried that the pressure of parenting might be too much for him.
It almost was. The couple came close to breaking up while Frank was gone, although Dave promised to take care of the kids regardless. They got through the rough patch and are still together.
Frank described years of nagging worries that his secret would be revealed. "I constantly felt like I had to watch what I did," he said.
He knows five gay sailors who were discharged or chose to leave the Navy because bearing their secret was too hard.
Occasionally, over drinks, away from the office, a fellow sailor would broach the topic.
"They'll start off saying, 'You don't have to answer me and I'm not supposed to ask, but I want to let you know that I don't care. I'm just curious,' " Frank recalled.
If he trusted the person, Frank would acknowledge being gay. But he didn't feel comfortable bringing his partner along to the command Christmas party - even though someone else did invite a same-sex date, introduced to everyone as a roommate.
The worries have subsided now. Frank recently retired.
Even on his last day in uniform, Frank was concerned about keeping up appearances.
Dave attended the ceremony, but stayed in the background.
Frank said he cut his remarks short when he started getting emotional.
"I didn't want anything to slip."
Frank, a recently retired gay sailor, went through years of worries that his secret life would be discovered. “I constantly felt like I had to watch what I did,” he said.
By Kate Wiltrout
The Virginian-Pilot
September 27, 2009
NORFOLK
Since 1993, a generation of gay sailors, Marines, soldiers and airmen has learned to survive on the military's margins.
That year, President Bill Clinton prohibited the military from asking about individuals' sexual orientation - even as Congress mandated the discharge of anyone engaging in homosexual acts or identifying themselves as gay.
About 13,000 gays and lesbians have been discharged since the changes took place. Still, a far greater number of gay Americans are serving, or have served, in silence.
They walk a fine line, constantly recalculating how much of their personal lives to share with co-workers, learning which doctors and chaplains they can trust, and in the safest cases, finding bosses who subtly make clear that actions, not adjectives, are the best measure of a good sailor.
The Virginian-Pilot interviewed three gay members of the military about what it's like to serve without disclosing a key part of their identity.
Because naming them could jeopardize their careers, the newspaper agreed not to use their real names or include details that would allow them to be recognized.
Here are their stories.
Phoebe, who works on communications equipment on a Norfolk-based surface ship, is partway through her first hitch in the Navy.
Outspoken but not defensive, Phoebe said she didn't know she was gay when she enlisted. But after a few relationships with men, one of which resulted, unintentionally, in pregnancy, she realized she was a lesbian.
She laughs now about breaking two pieces of news to her surprised parents: First, she was pregnant. Second, she was gay.
It hasn't been easy, but she's managed to balance motherhood and the military. Her parents care for her child when her ship deploys.
She's a no-nonsense sailor, promoted three times in four years, and she doesn't think work and personal lives should mix too much. The bridge of a warship, she said, isn't an appropriate place to talk about intimate relationships - gay or straight.
But when you live together, and you're deployed together and you sleep in a small compartment, she said, it's hard to keep the most basic truth about yourself private.
She abides by the rules. But curse words fly when she talks about the current policy.
"I think it's bull that I could get kicked out for something that has nothing to do with the military. I can go die for my country, and I can't be gay?" she said, before letting loose with a choice expletive.
The "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy prohibits the military from inquiring about individuals' sexual tendencies and pursuing rumors of homosexual conduct. Individuals cannot talk about their sexual orientation; nor can they be harassed over perceived sexual preferences.
But federal law offers no protection if credible evidence of gay behavior comes to a commanding officer's attention. The law clearly states that gay individuals create "an unacceptable risk" to "morale, good order and discipline and unit cohesion."
Phoebe posed a theoretical question to those who think gay men and women have no place in the military. "What's worse?" she asked. "Having a terrorist attack? Or having a homo stop it?"
Although she gets tired of always having to edit her speech around co-workers, Phoebe doesn't feel particularly vulnerable.
She's confident that the commanding officer of her ship knows she's gay.
The C.O. asked her once what she thought of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." Her response was not suitable for publication.
Phoebe believes that most people in her division know her truth, but she's careful not to provide any proof.
"Everyone on my ship assumes, but I've never come out and said anything to anyone I didn't trust," she said.
She described an informal network of gay sailors on her ship.
Phoebe said she knows them all, and when asked roughly how many there are, proceeded to count them out on her fingers. About a dozen, she concluded, including officers, chiefs and enlisted sailors of both sexes.
With rare exceptions, gay sailors stationed on the same ship don't get involved in romantic relationships, she said. But it's nice to have friends who are dealing with the same issues.
When the ship pulled into a foreign port, Phoebe said, the gay sailors would often head off together to a hole-in-the-wall gay bar.
She takes some solace that under "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," superiors are not supposed to inquire about her sexuality. So as long as she's careful, she isn't too worried about being investigated.
"I could hang out with the gayest guy in the world, wearing a dress, and it wouldn't matter," Phoebe said. "Unless there's proof, there's nothing they can do."
Phoebe said concerns about gay sailors hitting on straight shipmates are overblown: "That's why we have shower curtains! There are bathroom stalls, and you have a curtain on your rack."
She also mentioned that there's plenty of illicit interaction between men and women on her ship, even though Navy policy forbids sex while a boat is under way. On a recent deployment, she said, the captain put 10 people on the ship on restriction for having sex. One case involved a tryst between an officer and an enlisted sailor, she said - a type of fraternization verboten at sea or ashore.
Although angered by what she perceives as official discrimination against gays, Phoebe said no one has been rude or discriminatory toward her.
If Congress changed the law to allow gays to serve openly, "it wouldn't change much for me," she said.
Then she conceded that it would be a weight off her shoulders: "I could walk down the road with my girlfriend's hand in mine and not worry about someone from my ship seeing me."
Richard enlisted almost 20 years ago and, until recently, didn't give much thought to what it would be like to be a gay military man.
Then, a few years ago, he accepted a truth he'd fought to bury for years: He is gay.
The acknowledgment came as a great relief, even at home. He remains married to a woman he met in the military. They have school-age children.
In some ways, their marriage is stronger now. He and his wife are no longer lovers, but they're still best friends and partners committed to raising their kids in a loving home.
Because there's so much at stake - his job, his family's health insurance, his retirement - he worries about someone discovering the truth before he's eligible to retire in a few years.
Trained in multiple foreign languages for a job that requires travel and a security clearance, he knows his skills would fetch a handsome salary in the civilian world. He would happily stay in uniform if the law changed. If it doesn't, he's prepared to retire as soon as he can.
In a recent interview with Richard and his wife in the living room of their two-story house, in a typical Hampton Roads subdivision, the couple talked about their lives.
His wife finds support on the Internet from other women married to gay men. It's not as rare as you might think, they say.
Richard has turned to the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network to learn which actions do or don't violate the law.
For example, he explains, it's OK for a soldier to go to a gay bar - but it's not OK to dance with another man. It's OK to watch a movie with a same-sex partner - but not to kiss or hold that partner's hand. It's fine to march in a gay pride parade- but not to hold a placard identifying yourself as a lesbian sailor.
Having to stay attuned to those specific legalities has worn Richard down.
He takes seriously the American ideals of justice and equality. That his own government denies him both, he said, takes its toll.
"Is our military representative of the freedoms of our nation?" he asked rhetorically. "If I can't go to the movies and hold somebody's hand, am I free?"
Having to lie about tiny things gets tiresome, and eventually, Richard said, leads to a bigger problem:
"It's important people can be true to themselves. If you can't be true to yourselves, you can't be true to the people around you."
The current policy encourages lying, he said - and even small lies about where you spent the weekend or what you watched on TV turn into a bigger breach of trust.
"When, by law, you are compelling people to lie about their personal lives, you're driving a wedge between people and their unit," he said.
He is confident the military would accept the change without much trouble.
"Saying our military can't adapt to those challenges is really selling our military short," he said.
Like Richard, Frank didn't accept being gay until after he'd married and become a father.
He enlisted to get away from home.
"I was running away from home, and it was the best way to keep a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and a little bit of change in my pocket," he said during an interview at a Virginia Beach Starbucks.
When he joined up, a few years before "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was adopted, enlistment forms asked if recruits had homosexual tendencies or experiences - and answering yes meant you couldn't serve.
Frank lied.
He didn't want to be gay. So he repressed it. He took his marriage vows seriously and stayed faithful to his wife, whom he met on duty.
His control lasted 10 years, until Frank realized he couldn't deny reality. The couple divorced. Their youngest child wasn't yet in school; the older one was in grade school.
Frank and his kids stayed together, and eventually his partner, Dave, joined them.
The arrangement was tested when Frank prepared to deploy a few years ago and Dave became the kids' guardian - taking them shopping, shuttling them to dentist and doctor appointments, overseeing their homework.
"It was rough. It was a little scary," Frank said. He knew his partner would be a good father figure, but he worried that the pressure of parenting might be too much for him.
It almost was. The couple came close to breaking up while Frank was gone, although Dave promised to take care of the kids regardless. They got through the rough patch and are still together.
Frank described years of nagging worries that his secret would be revealed. "I constantly felt like I had to watch what I did," he said.
He knows five gay sailors who were discharged or chose to leave the Navy because bearing their secret was too hard.
Occasionally, over drinks, away from the office, a fellow sailor would broach the topic.
"They'll start off saying, 'You don't have to answer me and I'm not supposed to ask, but I want to let you know that I don't care. I'm just curious,' " Frank recalled.
If he trusted the person, Frank would acknowledge being gay. But he didn't feel comfortable bringing his partner along to the command Christmas party - even though someone else did invite a same-sex date, introduced to everyone as a roommate.
The worries have subsided now. Frank recently retired.
Even on his last day in uniform, Frank was concerned about keeping up appearances.
Dave attended the ceremony, but stayed in the background.
Frank said he cut his remarks short when he started getting emotional.
"I didn't want anything to slip."
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