This post was originally published on the Linguistic Society of America’s COZIL ( Committee on LGBTQ+ [Z]) blog for Pride Month 2021.
This year, service members in the United States Armed Forces celebrate the 10-year anniversary of the implementation of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (DADT) repeal act of 2010, the discriminatory policy that prohibited lesbian, gay, and bisexual service members from serving openly.
When I applied to the U.S. Naval Academy, I did not know (and could not have known) what I was getting into. I knew I was gay. However, I did not know how doing “being gay” could lead me to getting kicked out or discharged from the Navy. And, apparently among the endless paperwork, I signed a form (USMEPCOM FORM 601-23-4-E 1, FEB 1998) agreeing that I did not have a “propensity or intent to engage in homosexual acts” or to marry “a person known to be of the same biological sex.” Today, I still wonder how I could have known what being gay meant as a 17-year-old graduating from high school, and how I would have to perform “being a heterosexual” under DADT.
It was 2002 when I joined the Navy, and DADT was still the law. While policies affecting LGBT service members have changed, the U.S. military is still very much a masculine gendered institution and arguably the arbiter of American masculinity (Disler, 2008). Historically, the ranks of the U.S. military have consisted of “able-bodied” (10 U.S. Code § 505) men; and social practices and cultures continue to systematically exclude women as well as individuals who identify as LGBT from serving. However, the U.S. military is still one of the most diverse institutions and workplaces in the U.S., with 1.3 million active-duty service members (Kamarck, 2019). Of these, an estimated 6%, or 78,000, identify as either gay, lesbian, or bisexual, and 0.6%, or 7800, identify as transgender (Meadows et al., 2015).
It might not be a surprise that the military conflates the experiences of all those who identify as LGBT. However, I want to briefly disentangle their histories in the military. For LGB service members, the U.S. military began actively discriminating against them during WWII when homosexuality was pathologized as a mental illness (see Berube, [2010]). During the gay rights movement of the 1970s, activists brought attention to supporting LGB service members (Hall, 2010). However, the U.S. Department of Defense came down with a heavy hand in 1982, declaring that homosexuality was “incompatible with military service” (DOD Directive 1332.14, January 28, 1982, Part 1, Section H). A “compromise” was met in 1993 when President Clinton enacted DADT. This meant that LGB service members could serve, just not openly. Then, in 2010, President Obama repealed DADT, allowing LGB service members to finally serve as their true selves.
For our transgender brothers, sisters, and siblings in arms, much of their history has been ignored or erased under the LGBT umbrella. While women were known to disguise themselves as men to serve in the military since the American Revolution, transgender service members were actively discriminated against alongside LGB service members. Then, in 2014, Attorney General Eric Holder extended gender identity protection under TITLE VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to include transgender statuses. However, while this did apply to DoD civilians, it did not apply to service members (Kamarck, 2019). In 2015, Secretary of Defense Ashton Carter, under the Obama administration, announced that transgender service members can serve openly. This was short lived, as President Trump reversed the decision and prohibited transgender individuals from joining and serving in the military. Trump’s trans ban was then overturned by President Biden in 2021.
When I joined the Navy during DADT, I did not know the consequences of what Rich (1980) calls compulsory heterosexuality. Like the other 1.3 million service members, I swore an oath to defend the constitution (and also claimed to be straight). For example, when I was a plebe (1st year student/midshipman at the Naval Academy), I was told to bring a (female) date to lunch. As midshipmen, we ate breakfast and lunch with our squads. Our squads were led by squad leaders (4th year students/midshipmen) who were also responsible for training us as plebes. One day, my squad leader told me I had to bring a date to lunch. So that morning, I asked a female midshipman if she would join me for lunch. Doing so also required me to “request permission” from the female midshipman’s squad leader, thereby forcing me to perform “being heterosexual” by participating in heterosexual courtship, or what Eckert (2000) calls the heterosexual marketplace.
Let’s not ignore how problematic this was for the female midshipman. From her perspective, we can see clearly how compulsory heterosexuality ingrained in the masculine gendered military has misogynistic implications on her military identity. By being asked to join me for lunch, she performed “being a commodity” or object of desire, thereby reducing/erasing her identity as a midshipman. Further, her agency as a woman and individual was diminished by drawing on patriarchal requirements (a man asking her squad leader for permission to bring her as his date).
I have to note – the woman I asked was and is a friend. At the time, she did not know I was gay. However, we both understood these rituals were “normal” and on some level a form of hazing. We could have easily said no. But, by not participating in these rituals, our student rankings would suffer given that upper-level students ranked everyone below them. These student rankings then contributed to our overall order of merit which informed what jobs in the Navy/Marine Corps we would hold after graduation/commissioning.
As I recall this one instance of compulsory heterosexuality (there are many), I am relieved to know that midshipmen at the Naval Academy (and service members writ large) are in a better place. However, policy changes do not equate to changes in social and cultural practices. The U.S. military is still a masculine gendered institution and compulsory heterosexuality still exists. Today, I might have had the option to bring a male midshipman to lunch – however it would still entail the same ritual of heteronormative courtship. Another example: while the term “military wife’ has been replaced with “military spouse,” it still draws on the same heterosexual and patriarchal construct. All spouses are still assumed under the umbrella term “military dependents.” This umbrella term also includes children of service members. In this way, the term “military spouse” still draws on the patriarchal construct where the service member (usually a heterosexual man) is the protector, or “breadwinner,” of the family. And so, these are just two examples where, from a queer theory and queer linguistics lens (Motschenbacher & Stegu, 2013), we can examine not only how LGBT service members “do” (military) heterosexuality, but also how straight-identifying individuals do a heterosexuality that might not be their own.
Returning to my question in the first paragraph – how could I have known the implications of being gay in the military during DADT? I still don’t know. However, I do know why I joined the military. I grew up in a military family. My dad served in the Army and I saw the opportunities it afforded him as a Filipino immigrant. And then September 11th happened when I was a junior in high school, and I followed the “call to serve.” For other service members, reasons may also include occupational benefits such as opportunities to travel, access to educational and healthcare benefits, as well as job stability (Helmus et al., 2018). Today, my military experience informs my research and my desire to continue serving in some capacity. I envision my new capacity for service as I conduct research surrounding queering military discourse and deconstructing (toxic) masculinities and heteronormativity seen in the military, aiming to make it a safer place for everyone to serve as their true selves.
To read more about LGBTQ+ linguistics from LGBTQ+ linguists, check out all of the COZIL Blog posts here.
References
Bérubé, A. (2010). Coming out under fire: The history of gay men and women in World War II. Univ of North Carolina Press.
Disler, E. (2008). Language and gender in the military: Honorifics, narrative, and ideology in Air Force talk. Cambria Press.
Eckert, P. (2000). Linguistic variation as social practice: The linguistic construction of identity in Belten High. Blackwell Pub.
Hall, S. (2010). The American gay rights movement and patriotic protest. Journal of the History of Sexuality, 19(3), 536–562.
Helmus, T. C., Zimmerman, S. R., Posard, M. N., Wheeler, J. L., Ogletree, C., Stroud, Q., & Harrell, M. C. (2018). Life as a private: A study of the motivations and experiences of junior enlisted personnel in the US Army (RR-2252-A; Research Reports). Rand Corporation. https://www.rand.org/pubs/research_reports/RR2252.html
Kamarck, K. (2019). Diversity, inclusion, and equal opportunity in the Armed Services: Background and issues for Congress (No. R44321). Congressional Research Service. https://crsreport.congress.gov
Meadows, S. O., Engel, C. C., Collins, R. L., Beckman, R. L., Cefalu, M., Hawes-Dawson, J., Waymouth, M., Kress, A. M., Sontag-Padilla, L., Ramchand, R., & et al. (2015). 2015 Health related behaviors survey: Sexual orientation, transgender identity, and health among U.S. active-duty service members (RB-9955/6-OSD; Research Briefs). RAND Corporation.
Motschenbacher, H., & Stegu, M. (2013). Queer Linguistic approaches to discourse. Discourse & Society, 24(5), 519–535.
Rich, A. (1980). Compulsory heterosexuality and lesbian existence. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 5(4), 631–660.
