Thirty years ago, Don't Ask Don't Tell (DADT) was implemented as military policy. The idea was that gays and lesbians could serve—just not openly. Twenty-one years ago I enlisted, committing to never tell anyone in the army about my sexual orientation. The slights and innuendos about my gender and sexual orientation never ceased. I couldn't stop my superiors and peers from the "ask," yet I knew there would be hell to pay if I were to "tell."
I left the service before DADT was repealed 13 years ago, never deploying, or amounting to much in my service as a nuclear biological chemical weapons specialist. I felt like a failure because I could not overcome the discrimination in the days of Don't Ask Don't Tell. At least I survived. Many others like me had no recourse, and DADT caused people to lose so much more, including their lives.
Anger, fear, and hate are rising again against the LGBTQ community, and this time, it's harming the military's ability to do its job. After DADT's repeal, the myth that queer people would destroy "unit cohesion" disappeared, and the military affirmed what society learned over and over throughout history: discrimination is what destroys us, not the people who are being discriminated against.
As a bisexual woman, I know that policies against queer people do not make us disappear, they determine how much we risk by being open about our identity. Consider the accidents of history where the military paved the way for civil and queer rights. Yet everyone who joins the military isn't there with an agenda to win rights. We are just like you, trying to do our jobs. There are no atheists in foxholes, as the saying goes, but there are bigots. And their delusion about who is fit for service is far more dangerous for our country than any person they hate.
As a minister, I must remark that discrimination against LGBTQ people comes at a time when more and more biblical scholars and religious leaders share that homosexuality as we know it today isn't condemned by the Bible. The Bible has been interpreted in various ways to fit cultural or political ideas about right and wrong. (For example, the biblical justification of slavery.) Today, scholars say biblical sins attributed to LGBTQ persons are actually about condemning sex acts that don't lead to procreation, gang rape, or reversal of who should be "on top" by their social status. This point digresses from the fact that the first amendment of the constitution of this country, which all service members swear to defend, enshrines the concept of the separation of church and state.
As a veteran, I can tell you that when a servicemember is lowered into their grave, whether they followed the "right" religion is never discussed. I can tell you that when you are confirming that the specimen you are dealing with is a live nerve agent, you are not concerned with who your team member is married to—you are trusting that they know the proper procedures to protect your unit. When I meet a fellow servicemember, they don't ask about my religion or if I'm a transgender person. We look at each other the only way people who have attended far too many funerals of their friends can, with a respect marked by grief and resignation that this is the price we pay in service—sometimes for people with religions that think we shouldn't exist at all. And then we say, "Thank you for your service."
Rev. Shawna Ambrose is an Army veteran and the first bisexual woman to be elected to City Council in Arvada, Colo. She is on the Prophetic Council of the Poor People's campaign, and was formerly the national faith engagement advisor on the Pete Buttiegieg campaign.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
Uncommon Knowledge
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
