Why I Work With LGBTQ Veterans
Throughout our country’s long history, LGBTQ men and women have served in our armed forces, defending our freedom and sovereignty in every single American conflict. There has never been a time when LGBTQ people did not wear the uniform, going all the way back to the Revolutionary War. These brave patriots did their duty unflinchingly, even as the society they ardently fought for denied them many of the rights and equalities under the law that all Americans are supposed to enjoy. Even in the military, these soldiers and sailors were at great risk, because homosexuality was a court-martial offense for almost all of American history. Even today, LGBTQ servicepeople’s rights are being rolled back, as President Trump’s transgender troop ban makes abundantly clear. It’s against this backdrop of valor and homophobia that I choose to work with My Brothers House, a nonprofit that provides safe, supportive housing for veterans, and operates the only dedicated residence just for homeless LGBTQ veterans in the country.
Oddly, even though many LGBTQ people have sought careers in the military, even as a refuge after coming out and being cast away by their families, or to learn a trade like their straight counterparts, or just out of a sense of duty, we, the people haven’t always returned the favor. Policies that ostensibly “softened” the Pentagon’s approach to its LGBTQ troops, like Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell, only forced people to serve at the expense of hiding their true selves. It wasn’t until President Obama repealed DADT in 2011, that, for the first time in over 230 years, gay and lesbian service members could wear their uniform without fear. For trans troops, that freedom wouldn’t come until 2016. Nevertheless, even with these huge leaps forward, the transition back to civilian life for our veterans, straight or LGBTQ, is often a difficult one. Our veterans face unique challenges, and are often met with ridicule or invalidation as they struggle with service-related issues like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), as witness Trump’s suggestion that veterans dealing with PTSD aren’t “strong”.
It’s to this often hostile environment that our veterans return home from the oceans and battlefields of the world, and the obstacles they face are formidable. It’s why veterans have a suicide rate of 20 per day nationwide, and why a full tenth of homeless Americans are veterans. If you are a gay, lesbian, bi, or trans veteran, these problems are multiplied exponentially. Already marginalized, LGBTQ veterans must cope with all the issues plaguing all the troops, plus the rigors of trying to survive in a society that thinks it’s OK to refuse goods or services to LGBTQ people based on “personal or religious belief”.
For example, imagine you’re one of the thousands of transgender troops currently being put out of the military, in some cases just months before retirement eligibility, with a “medical” — but not service-connected — discharge. Maybe you did your transition during that brief three-year window between Obama and Trump, and now you can’t go back to your hometown or family, because they won’t accept you. You have trouble finding a job, or keeping one, because of severe anti-trans employment discrimination. Unable to find housing, without a steady income, it won’t be long before you’re on the streets. That’s also true for plenty of gay and lesbian veterans, for a lot of the same reasons.
I’m not a veteran; the closest to military service I ever got was as an EMT in FDNY’s EMS Command system. However, I cannot but see the plight of LGBTQ veterans, even after my days on the ambulance were far behind me. I saw homeless veterans freezing on the sidewalks and huddled in the subways as a medic, and I saw LGBTQ veterans denied care because their sexuality or gender identity upset some person of privilege. When My Brothers House was organized, I felt compelled to take an active role, as VP of LGBTQ Affairs, in mitigating these problems. Since its inception in 2016, the organization has moved forward with its mission, opening homes in several states to get at-risk veterans off the streets, and provide them with residential treatment services when necessary or requested. The charity enjoys a good relationship with the Veterans Administration (VA), which refers clients to us, and is about to open the second-ever LGBTQ Veterans Residence, which, like the first, is in the Philadelphia, PA area. This is genuine progress, and it’s an ongoing effort.
As a longtime LGBTQ community advocate, I can do no less than to work with our veterans of the rainbow, who, like all LGBTQ people, deserve understanding and support. They fought for me; now it’s my turn to fight for them.
