“HOLY S&%T,” I thought. “This guy can’t be here. Could he be gayer?”
That’s pretty much how my first “gay experience” went in the Army. Actually, that was my first gay experience ever.
To paint that picture more fully let me give you a little bit of background information concerning who I was and who I think I’ve become because of my experiences serving with gay service members.
Who I Was:
I’m from a small town of about 1,000 people in southeastern Nebraska called Friend. Yes I’m serious; the name of my hometown is Friend. The local climate there is not what I would call “cosmopolitan.” People there vote republican whether it helps them or not, and social issues never seem to be issues there. Whenever a social issue comes up like abortion, homosexuality, or civil rights there’s not really any debate; more of a rally. A lot of backslapping and “’at a boys” to go around.
Growing up, my friends and I used colorful descriptive language like “fag”, “homo”, and “queer” to describe things that we thought were bad in some way. We caught fireflies in jars in July, sat on our front porches during the summer, and greeted everybody we came across all year long. (Because we knew everybody we came across). This was life in Friend. Picture perfect and without social strife.
Issues couldn’t affect us out there. We didn’t have any diversity to cope with so we could easily keep tough questions at arm’s distance. Questions like: “Why should or shouldn’t gays be allowed to serve in the military?” “Is homosexuality contagious?” and “What about showering with gays?” To be fair we tackled these questions, but as one might imagine the answers were most often unanimous and necessarily based on irrational notions. “Fags shouldn’t serve in the military because they’re in such tight spaces with other people,” “Queerness is certainly contagious…it’s a choice that they can convince you to make,” “Showering with homos is dangerous because they’ll try to rape you.”
In addition to all of the aforementioned attributes I had some other qualities as well. I’ve always felt a strong call to serve my country and humanity, to stand up for those that can’t stand up for themselves, to fight injustice even at the price of social discomfort, and to always push myself out of my comfort zone for the sake of personal growth. These qualities must have been stronger because they certainly triumphed over my ignorance on issues concerning gays.
Who I’ve Become:
Well after 5 years of active duty and largely because of serving with openly gay service members I’m proud to say I’m a better person. I have come a long ways from my days growing up in Friend Nebraska. While I was growing up I was barely aware of gays at all, and the awareness I did have was based on hazy notions that had no rational basis whatsoever.
I have grown much as a person and an American. As a person I not only see that gays are equal in worth and dignity to me as a humans, but are just as capable of patriotism, loyalty, service, duty, and honor as anybody. As an American I had the opportunity to live and grow in the values that the United States was founded on: tolerance, acceptance, and equality. I pushed myself to face my fears and conquer them and for that I believe I have become a better person and a better American. I do not believe I could have served my country better.
I know I’ve skimmed over the “growing process” pretty quickly, but I did that for a reason. I’ve got a lot of stories to tell you over the next several weeks that exemplify humorously, painfully, and passionately what I went through to become this better person I claim to be.
I want to provide not just answers, but stories to back up my answers to the tough questions. The questions I mentioned before like: the service question, the shower question, the contagious question, and more. And if you haven’t already noticed I plan to do this in a very honesty, unorthodox, edgy, and somewhat irreverent way because that’s the way I experienced it all.
So stick with me folks. We’re going to get through this and we’re going to have a lot of fun doing it.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
God, Glory, and Gayness?
This has been a long time coming and I apologize for the wait.
"Could this guy be gayer?" Not only is that how I started out the last blog, but that is exactly the question I asked myself upon my first day in a new unit I was in over 6 years ago. The answer to that is not as important as how that question was the harbinger of personal growth and courage in my life. (But in case you're curious I believe the answer is, "No way!" He ended up being the stereotypical gay guy that could be referenced by every person who has ever generalized gays.
I'll refer to this first day in the new unit as X-Day.
X-Day; First Contact.
I was standing in the back of a 300 person Army formation. As I stood there taking in the scene I noticed a soldier at the front of the formation that wasn't standing there stoically like the rest of us. He was hopping and bouncing and giggling and singing. He was also energetically speaking with his peers standing around him. He would warmly touch their shoulders out of seemingly earnest affection, and he would hold his wrists limply, effeminately...like a gay guy would. This made me somewhat uncomfortable. More than that, however, it shocked me. Here this guy was; obviously gay; and nobody was doing anything about it. Not only were they not doing anything about it, but they seemed to generally like this guy...this gay guy who wasn't supposed to be there.
Of course I wasn't savvy to all of the nuances of the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy but I did know that a soldier wasn't supposed to be openly gay. This guy, in my opinion, was breaking the rules. Thankfully this guy was not in my class at the school we were attending so the likelihood of the two of us being paired up slim, and thank God he would never be my roommate. Therefore, I could keep this guy, and the group of sinners he was the poster child for at arms distance because our paths were unlikely to cross. No fear; all would be well and my bubble would remain intact.
X-Day + 5 months; Moving Day.
I had been in the unit for 5 months and it was time to “move up”. Up the hill, up in status, and up in quality of life. After so long in the unit, as the time waned long and vacancies in the nicer, newer barracks opened up as the more senior soldiers moved out, everyone got an opportunity to move "up the hill." My time had come; life was going to be good. Immediately after class on moving day I loaded up my F-150 pick-up truck moved everything over to the new barracks. Although I had a roommate he was not in there at the time. After I had been arranging my room for a while I realized I was hungry and it was time to eat.
When I came back with my Styrofoam container I was in for a shock. The lights were on, music was coming from the other side of the room but I couldn't see my roommate. He was around a barricade of wall lockers and dressers that had been erected to give the allusion of privacy. I went around the corner excited to greet my new roommate and I must have visibly reacted because the "gay poster boy" from X-Day looked really unhappy to see me too. It should be clarified that by this point my roommate had "come out" and was in the middle of being processed out of the Army.
I was almost in a panic for the next several hours before bed time. In my mind I ran through a list of "safety precautions" I was going to have to take from then on. No longer was it communal showers where somebody could come by and disrupt any devious plans my gay roommate might have contrived to inflict upon me. It was a private shower for just our room. If anything was going to happen it was going to be while I was naked in restroom taking a shower. I thought surely that was where he would jump me one time when I had my guard down. Thankfully there were locks on the doors. (Rule #1: Always keep the bathroom door locked...ALWAYS!)
"But what else?" I thought. Well surely the first line of attack would be a psychological one. If I had him in one thing it was sheer size and strength. I was a 6'4" +200lbs country kid from Nebraska, this guy was 5'9" 145lbs tops. So I had to be on my guard from the sort of "conversion" techniques that I knew his people used. (Rule #2: No gay talk. No talking about gay lifestyles or gay conduct in a nonchalant way).
We began to talk. Of course I was extremely stand-offish at first but I began to realize that he was not at all pushing the issue. He wasn't trying to make himself seem more acceptable, he certainly never looked at me in a way I could perceive as "attracted" to me or "sexual," and the dreaded “rear flank” in the bathroom never came, even when I forgot to observe rule #1. Really the only thing that bothered me (and perhaps this was a form of psychological warfare) was his incessant need to listen to Cher, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston.
From time to time he had brought in some of his friends that were gay. At first this made me really uncomfortable, but again, he never went out of his way to justify what he did. He just accepted himself and he didn't care whether I accepted him or not. EVENTUALLY I broached the subject of him being gay. This was scary territory for me. I knew, I mean to tell ya’ I KNEW, that here is where I had to be on guard because he would try to justify his "choice" to be gay. At first we'd talk generally about him being gay and being in the Army and getting kicked out because of, what I thought was, his "choice" to be gay.
One time I thought I'd pin him down in conversation. I thought maybe I'd be a little more probing and find a chink in his stylish, bedazzled, pink armor with matching Gucci gloves and his pink Louis Vuitton saddle bags. I asked him rather circuitously if he chose to be gay or if he was just born gay. His answer, I thought, was typical and expected. I knew the real answer was that he chose to be gay, but he told me that he did not make that choice. Dubiously I asked him why he thought he was gay. His answer was, sadly, that he had been abused as a child. Here I began to come untied from my self-righteous moorings. Finally I asked him, knowing that this one would be hard to lie about, whether he would have chosen to be gay if he would have had a choice. Here I thought he might try to appear thoughtful for a few moments before he answered, "Yes, I would choose to be gay." But he did not. Without hesitation or pause he answered a firm, "No, I'd never choose to be gay. It has made my life so hard." This sent me reeling.
That answer, over time, had such a manifold effect on my beliefs about gays, right and wrong, and what constituted a good soldier, a good American, or even a good person. While my roommate was indeed a stylish person in touch with what "looked good" and he was very confident and accepting of his sexuality, in a very heartfelt way he distanced himself from any ability to choose his sexuality. While he respected and accepted himself, to him it wasn't worth the cost. He would have respected and accepted himself just the same, but would have enjoyed life more if he would have been straight.
No longer was being gay something that sinners out of touch with right and wrong chose to do in my mind. No longer was it incompatible with forming warm, friendly, respectful, and (hold on to your hats) honest relationships. This was something that was fundamentally different from anything I had ever experienced, went fundamentally against everything I had ever been taught, but simultaneously what I had been taught discredited itself before my very eyes. Here was this guy that came to be a friend of mine; somebody I could talk to about all sorts of things in a very open way; in turn he could turn to me if he needed help. Never did I begin to have gay tendencies. No longer was this a contagious thing to me. I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with gays and the concept of homosexuality, but I was a huge step forward. I was tolerant. I was accepting. I was mentally stronger. I was aware of the people around me in ways I had never been before…
…I had become more American and more patriotic because I had the opportunity to serve side-by-side with gay soldiers.
"Could this guy be gayer?" Not only is that how I started out the last blog, but that is exactly the question I asked myself upon my first day in a new unit I was in over 6 years ago. The answer to that is not as important as how that question was the harbinger of personal growth and courage in my life. (But in case you're curious I believe the answer is, "No way!" He ended up being the stereotypical gay guy that could be referenced by every person who has ever generalized gays.
I'll refer to this first day in the new unit as X-Day.
X-Day; First Contact.
I was standing in the back of a 300 person Army formation. As I stood there taking in the scene I noticed a soldier at the front of the formation that wasn't standing there stoically like the rest of us. He was hopping and bouncing and giggling and singing. He was also energetically speaking with his peers standing around him. He would warmly touch their shoulders out of seemingly earnest affection, and he would hold his wrists limply, effeminately...like a gay guy would. This made me somewhat uncomfortable. More than that, however, it shocked me. Here this guy was; obviously gay; and nobody was doing anything about it. Not only were they not doing anything about it, but they seemed to generally like this guy...this gay guy who wasn't supposed to be there.
Of course I wasn't savvy to all of the nuances of the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy but I did know that a soldier wasn't supposed to be openly gay. This guy, in my opinion, was breaking the rules. Thankfully this guy was not in my class at the school we were attending so the likelihood of the two of us being paired up slim, and thank God he would never be my roommate. Therefore, I could keep this guy, and the group of sinners he was the poster child for at arms distance because our paths were unlikely to cross. No fear; all would be well and my bubble would remain intact.
X-Day + 5 months; Moving Day.
I had been in the unit for 5 months and it was time to “move up”. Up the hill, up in status, and up in quality of life. After so long in the unit, as the time waned long and vacancies in the nicer, newer barracks opened up as the more senior soldiers moved out, everyone got an opportunity to move "up the hill." My time had come; life was going to be good. Immediately after class on moving day I loaded up my F-150 pick-up truck moved everything over to the new barracks. Although I had a roommate he was not in there at the time. After I had been arranging my room for a while I realized I was hungry and it was time to eat.
When I came back with my Styrofoam container I was in for a shock. The lights were on, music was coming from the other side of the room but I couldn't see my roommate. He was around a barricade of wall lockers and dressers that had been erected to give the allusion of privacy. I went around the corner excited to greet my new roommate and I must have visibly reacted because the "gay poster boy" from X-Day looked really unhappy to see me too. It should be clarified that by this point my roommate had "come out" and was in the middle of being processed out of the Army.
I was almost in a panic for the next several hours before bed time. In my mind I ran through a list of "safety precautions" I was going to have to take from then on. No longer was it communal showers where somebody could come by and disrupt any devious plans my gay roommate might have contrived to inflict upon me. It was a private shower for just our room. If anything was going to happen it was going to be while I was naked in restroom taking a shower. I thought surely that was where he would jump me one time when I had my guard down. Thankfully there were locks on the doors. (Rule #1: Always keep the bathroom door locked...ALWAYS!)
"But what else?" I thought. Well surely the first line of attack would be a psychological one. If I had him in one thing it was sheer size and strength. I was a 6'4" +200lbs country kid from Nebraska, this guy was 5'9" 145lbs tops. So I had to be on my guard from the sort of "conversion" techniques that I knew his people used. (Rule #2: No gay talk. No talking about gay lifestyles or gay conduct in a nonchalant way).
We began to talk. Of course I was extremely stand-offish at first but I began to realize that he was not at all pushing the issue. He wasn't trying to make himself seem more acceptable, he certainly never looked at me in a way I could perceive as "attracted" to me or "sexual," and the dreaded “rear flank” in the bathroom never came, even when I forgot to observe rule #1. Really the only thing that bothered me (and perhaps this was a form of psychological warfare) was his incessant need to listen to Cher, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston.
From time to time he had brought in some of his friends that were gay. At first this made me really uncomfortable, but again, he never went out of his way to justify what he did. He just accepted himself and he didn't care whether I accepted him or not. EVENTUALLY I broached the subject of him being gay. This was scary territory for me. I knew, I mean to tell ya’ I KNEW, that here is where I had to be on guard because he would try to justify his "choice" to be gay. At first we'd talk generally about him being gay and being in the Army and getting kicked out because of, what I thought was, his "choice" to be gay.
One time I thought I'd pin him down in conversation. I thought maybe I'd be a little more probing and find a chink in his stylish, bedazzled, pink armor with matching Gucci gloves and his pink Louis Vuitton saddle bags. I asked him rather circuitously if he chose to be gay or if he was just born gay. His answer, I thought, was typical and expected. I knew the real answer was that he chose to be gay, but he told me that he did not make that choice. Dubiously I asked him why he thought he was gay. His answer was, sadly, that he had been abused as a child. Here I began to come untied from my self-righteous moorings. Finally I asked him, knowing that this one would be hard to lie about, whether he would have chosen to be gay if he would have had a choice. Here I thought he might try to appear thoughtful for a few moments before he answered, "Yes, I would choose to be gay." But he did not. Without hesitation or pause he answered a firm, "No, I'd never choose to be gay. It has made my life so hard." This sent me reeling.
That answer, over time, had such a manifold effect on my beliefs about gays, right and wrong, and what constituted a good soldier, a good American, or even a good person. While my roommate was indeed a stylish person in touch with what "looked good" and he was very confident and accepting of his sexuality, in a very heartfelt way he distanced himself from any ability to choose his sexuality. While he respected and accepted himself, to him it wasn't worth the cost. He would have respected and accepted himself just the same, but would have enjoyed life more if he would have been straight.
No longer was being gay something that sinners out of touch with right and wrong chose to do in my mind. No longer was it incompatible with forming warm, friendly, respectful, and (hold on to your hats) honest relationships. This was something that was fundamentally different from anything I had ever experienced, went fundamentally against everything I had ever been taught, but simultaneously what I had been taught discredited itself before my very eyes. Here was this guy that came to be a friend of mine; somebody I could talk to about all sorts of things in a very open way; in turn he could turn to me if he needed help. Never did I begin to have gay tendencies. No longer was this a contagious thing to me. I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with gays and the concept of homosexuality, but I was a huge step forward. I was tolerant. I was accepting. I was mentally stronger. I was aware of the people around me in ways I had never been before…
…I had become more American and more patriotic because I had the opportunity to serve side-by-side with gay soldiers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
