The other day someone in conversation asked if I was a veteran. It wasn't the first time... this month. It happens all of the time. Maybe it my fondness for wearing a high-and-tight. I usually just say "no" and let it go.
Not today. This new nonsense about HIV+ armed service members being forced out has me grieving and furious.
My father and his three brothers all served in the military. Dad was in Korea with the Army, post-armistice. My Uncle Dick was career Navy. My Uncle Howie died in Korea, leaving behind his young wife and my six-month old cousin, Sharon. As I grew up in Manchester, Connecticut, I either attended or marched in the town Memorial Day parade every year. My grandmother rode in a car as one of the 'Gold Star' mothers. When I was little I was so proud of her, and only caught her sadness as I got older. I have cousins who served.
I turned 18 in 1976. I registered for the draft. My birthdate, June 7, was drawn #28. In a year that the draft was implemented I likely would have gone into the service, as I did not go to college right after high school. But 1976 was still in the penumbra of the Vietnam War, and the US government was winding down its military capacities, determined to realize some sort of 'peace dividend'. The lottery was drawn and unused. I went to Colombia as an exchange student, then onto Bucknell. My freedom to choose was our family 'peace dividend'.
Let me be clear. I am not sure that my dad would have ever let me enter the service, while he had some say. He was a tough guy, bricklayer and football coach, my idol. His Army experience was part of his legend for me. I had images of Korea etched in my head long before M*A*S*H hit the airwaves. But there were things in his personal past that he had resolved that no kid of his would have to face. When at 14 I wanted to get a summer job, picking tobacco with the other guys in the neighborhood, but he forbid it. He had picked tobacco at that age. When you grow up in Manchester that is a thing you do. He said he would give me whatever money I might need, but no son of his was going to pick tobacco. Post-Vietnam, I had an inkling he might throw up another wall.
But by the time I might make that decision for myself, my life had taken another turn. During my year, living in Colombia, I had begun to figure out my late-arising sexuality. By my sophomore year at Bucknell I declared, to myself, I was gay (a terrible realization if you were at Bucknell, btw.) My closest Bucknell friend, Marshall, was angling for Naval Officer Candidates School- it sounded cool but, being gay, those doors were now closed. Openly gay people could not serve. Everyone knew that. A few years from my activism, I just rolled with it.
I have dozens of LGBT friends my age who served. Many of them enlisted when they were 18. How many of you had your sexuality sorted at that age? Others had aspired to careers in the Service and that sexuality thing was merely an inconvenience. Almost all of them served well and received honorable discharges. Others, however, mid-career, dealt with some homophobe in the ranks or (rarely) among the officer corps, then found themselves summarily dismissed, whatever the quality of service. Everyone has a story. I will let them tell theirs.
So, no, I never was in the armed services. As I watch the current administration attempt to deny whole classes of Americans the opportunity to serve I get furious. These people have stepped forward, put civilian life on hold, and have gone to work in our national defense. I respect that choice and that willingness to put country first. I am not trans, but I do live with HIV every day. I take one pill and see a doc once every six months. That is the current standard of care. Military medicine can handle HIV-- it has for years. Deploying for a year should not be a problem. This is just trumped-up bigotry.
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