Wherein I go back and talk about a Marine’s reflection

Written: 9/23/2012

In a previous post, I included a reaction from a former Marine about the one-year anniversary of the repeal of DADT.

I want to pull out a large block from it:

You see, this Marine and I were quite close. We’d gone out on the town clubbing, sat on E-tools eating MRE’s in the black of night, and we’d traded jabs in the barracks about newbies trying to pass off jokes as anecdotes for attention. In his letter, he detailed how not standing up for me when discussions got nasty was, in his words, the “greatest regret of his five years in Marines.” People didn’t know for sure I was gay, but most suspected it.

The irony of “don’t ask, don’t tell” was that not telling was itself a giveaway. As a gay Marine, life in the corps was often difficult for me. I like to think I hid it well with smiles and overachievement, but when you know someone well enough, you can always tell when something is wrong.

It was my friendships with Marines like this corporal that kept me alive, kept me going. But, the one thing we never shared was my constant fear of being kicked out or of being killed by one of my own. That I endured on my own. After a few incidents with my Recon company, I even went so far as to move off base because of fear for my safety. It’s an unsettling feeling to be afraid of your own family.

I see a lot of parallels.  Hiding my life behind smiles and achievements, those who probably suspected, but never stood up for their family members and friends who are gay.

And I find it poetic that one of the few people that can easily see through me (and not care at all that I’m gay, it’s a total non-issue) is a former member of the Army special forces.  But he’s one of the only few who has ever looked through me, seen that something is wrong, and given me a safe space and asked what he could do to help.

I’ll be back with more later,

All my best,

The King of Spades