No soldier left behind
Ten years after the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was enacted, the military continues to work towards inclusion, a path that is not always straightforward.
Crossing the short distance between his car and the imposing building, that day in 2016, all Stanley Maszczak could hear was the staccato of his black-and-white leather pumps hitting the ground. The humid August air felt thicker than normal as Maszczak tried to breathe. He was one of the 90 students taking part in the Equal Opportunity Advisor Reserve Component Course, but suddenly he felt alone.
A soldier on and off for 16 years, Maszczak had faced dangers in and out of combat zones, but as he gripped the hot metal handle of the front door, he could feel his heart racing. With a friend at his side, Maszczak entered the lobby to the Defense Equal Opportunity Management Institution in Florida, where he was to learn how to provide advice and assistance to Commanders to “prevent, reduce or eliminate discriminatory practices.”
Five years had passed since the controversial Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy had been repealed, but Maszczak still felt trepidation as he entered the classroom wearing civilian clothing for the first time. Including the black and white pumps.
His eyes quickly scanned the crowd for any negative reactions. To his own surprise, he received compliments, acceptance and a sense of safety.
During the 1992 presidential campaign, candidate Bill Clinton announced his intention of lifting the 50-year ban on gay, lesbian and bisexual people serving in the military. But Clinton’s campaign promise was met with opposition from both parties and the Joint Chiefs of Staff once he was in office, forcing him to compromise. In December 1993, the Clinton Administration issued Defense Directive 1304.26, a policy that quickly became known as “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” It allowed gay, lesbian and bisexual military members to serve so long as they did not “demonstrate a propensity or intent to engage in homosexual acts.”
While seen as a victory to some, DADT became a contentious point because it codified what could be done with gay, lesbian and bisexual service members if they came out. Discharge could leave them without benefits, including assistance with education, health care and housing.
DADT cost the military more than a loss of members. Per the Government Accountability Office, the U.S. Government spent between $22,000 to $43,000 per DADT-related discharge. They also estimated that in the first 10 years of DADT it cost the military $217.2 million to replace and retrain new service members. The Palm Center, a think tank that focuses on gender, sexuality and the military, put that number at around $414.7 million.
That equaled approximately 10,500 soldiers discharged under DADT in the first 10 years.
On Dec. 22, 2010, President Barack Obama repealed “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” effective the following September.
“No longer will our country be denied the service of thousands of patriotic Americans who were forced to leave the military — regardless of their skills, no matter their bravery or their zeal, no matter their years of exemplary performance — because they happen to be gay,” Obama said, his voice growing louder. “No longer will tens of thousands of Americans in uniform be asked to live a lie or look over their shoulder, in order to serve the country that they love.”
By then, the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network estimated the numbers of men and women who had been discharged for being homosexual had risen to over 14,5000.
Before the repeal, there had been concerns that as many as 8% of service members would not reenlist if LGB people were able to openly serve. In reality, retention and recruitment goals were met by the Navy, Marine Corps and Air Force, while the Army exceeded their goal by 4%, according to a Military Times poll. However, this did not translate to immediate acceptance and understanding.
In 1968, 25 years before DADT was implemented, Denny Meyer joined the Navy. Not having been drafted into the Vietnam War, the 20-year-old Meyer instead attended college, where he saw his peers protesting the war.
“When I saw the American flag being burned, I said to myself, ‘That’s wrong. What are you going to do about it?’”
He soon dropped out of college and joined the Navy.
But as a gay man who had been open to himself for years, Meyer knew that there was an inherent danger to enlisting in the Navy. During the initial physicals and testing for service, he was asked by a psychologist, “Any problems with homosexuality?”
He lied, the first of many lies he would tell over his 10-year career.
Before DADT, many other soldiers had lied as Meyer had, but they had left or been pushed out for being gay; Congressional Research Service estimated that 1.6% of military personnel were LGB identified during this time. Now, more than four decades after Meyer’s decision to enlist, soldiers could finally be truthful and serve.
In November 2000, only five months after graduating from high school, Maszczak joined the Virginia Army National Guard, going into basic training and military school within a couple of months.
In Aug. 2001, he decided to enroll in college at Christopher Newport University, a small suburban school in Newport News, Virginia, only a mile from where he had attended high school.
But 9/11 happened just a month after he enrolled at CNU, and Maszczak’s military police unit was mobilized. He moved to northern Virginia, where he secured federal buildings for several months.
In April 2003, he was deployed to the Middle East, spending four months in Kuwait and eight months in Baghdad.
It was during his time in Kuwait that Maszczak admitted to “struggling with same-sex attraction.” Having grown up in a Fundamentalist Baptist church, he turned to the one thing he understood, God.
“I signed up for this correspondence course with an ex-gay ministry called Stephen Bennett ministries.”
Determined to be straight, he asked fundamentalist friends to hold him accountable for his actions, going as far as to give a friend his passwords so the friend could check his computer accounts and browsing history for anything gay.
He also called his parents, not for support but to come clean about his struggle. He wanted to confess and apologize, and reiterate that he was determined to be straight. Upon hearing the news, his mom handed his father the phone, without saying another word. His father had served and retired from the military too. Despite being more understanding about Maszczak’s conflict, he gave him a piece of advice: “Don’t tell anybody else.”
And so Maszczak returned to the U.S. in April 2004, still set on being straight. He enrolled in Liberty University, a conservative Christian school, keeping his feelings of same-sex attraction a secret.
Maszczak left Liberty University after three semesters, returned to Virginia and joined a new, slightly more contemporary Southern Baptist church. But despite the receptiveness of the church, Maszczak was confronted by his pastor, who had noticed that many of Maszczak’s Myspace friends were gay.
While Maszczak had secretly done some research about his same-sex attraction and spoken to affirming people, he knew the church’s position: He was expected to be straight.
“You know what the right thing is,” said his pastor during their encounter. “The problem with sitting on the fence for too long is one day you’re gonna fall down and you’re gonna rack yourself.” Maszczak walked away from that conversation unsure of what to do next.
“I drove around kind of crying and figuring stuff out.”
Even while attending the Southern Baptist church and determined to be straight, Maszczak had also joined an online gay-affirming Christian community. That night, as he continued driving, Maszczak realized that the Christian gay and lesbian people he met online showed him a more earnest, benevolent and faithful form of Christianity than from those in his own church.
The next year, in November 2006, Maszczak’s contract for the Virginia Army National Guard ended and he faced the option to re-enlist or leave.
“I got out,” recalls Maszczak, “I went into inactive ready reserve because of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. And I was coming out and I was not willing to stay in the closet anymore.”
Maszczak was one of the thousands of service members who no longer felt a place of belonging in the military if they could not be themselves.
Like Meyer had done in 1968, Maszczak had to hide his struggles with same-sex attraction during his first enlistment. However, unlike many of the soldiers in this situation, he returned to service in 2009 after he came to terms with his sexuality, all while DADT was still active.
“I missed the military.”
Doing so required him to live a double life in person and online.
For years, he kept two separate Facebook accounts. One allowed him to openly express his thoughts, to talk about his love life, to follow as many gay artists and pages as he wanted.
The other was meant for only military personnel. His pictures there were more neutral, with few poses or flashy colors. His posts were primarily focused on the ongoings in the military with a sprinkling of religion. For those who only knew of this page, Maszczak was straight.
Re-enlisting meant he also had to live a different life when he was working. But Maszczak found a compromise in his job that left him fulfilled while he was in the closet. He started working in the Army’s Public Affairs career field, where he felt people were more progressive.
Even so, Maszczak kept his sexuality to himself, because it was the law.
“It took a long time before I started coming out to people that I worked with, until I was first sure it was a safe thing to do.”
Maszczak was not alone in serving with a secret. According to the Williams Institute, gay, lesbian and bisexual people still enlisted without disclosing their sexual orientation. They estimated the total of LGB military personnel serving by 2010 -the last year DADT was military policy — to be as high as 2.2 percent, as many as 70,500 service members.
Less than a month after the repeal of DADT took effect in 2011, Maszczak posted a two-and-a-half minute video to YouTube. From a small hotel room in Hawaii where he was on temporary duty, and equipped only with a webcam, Maszczak took the step to come out. “The biggest thing that I’m excited about this repeal is that I don’t have to lie anymore. We don’t have to lie.” He described how DADT prevented progress in the understanding of gay and lesbian service members, but now there was a chance to make up for it. And for him to be himself.
“Today is October 11, 2011. And it’s National Coming Out Day, the National Coming Out Day following the repeal of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’. So I’m sure you’re gonna have a lot of service members if they haven’t already coming out today.”
For Maszczak, this announcement was more than five years in the making.
In spite of the repeal, many soldiers were still left without the protections they desired. Transgender soldiers were still not allowed to openly serve. But on June 30, 2016, the Obama Administration fulfilled its promise to allow transgender service members to openly serve, six years after the repeal of DADT.
“Effective immediately, transgender Americans may serve openly, and they can no longer be discharged or otherwise separated from the military just for being transgender,” said Secretary of Defense Ash Carter.
Veterans like James Williams, whose name has been changed for his personal safety, felt that the decision was rushed, leading to more discomfort for trans service members. Over the next five years, Williams would live through the consequences of this hasty decision, as changes in presidential administrations meant changes in the rules for him and hundreds of other transgender soldiers.
Williams enlisted in the U.S. Army 13 days after graduating from high school, in June 2013, serving under the sex he was born as, presenting as female to his colleagues. He too led a double life.
After Secretary Carter’s announcement, Williams’ brigade attended a “Fun Friday,” the nickname they’d given to the classroom lessons they received weekly. During their lesson, they were informed of the new policy, even though it lacked the substance of many other polices.
“It didn’t seem fleshed out like normally,” he said. Most Army regulations were typically meticulously planned and implemented. He added, “Even how long I could have my hair was like to like a quarter of an inch, like super specific.”
But with little to go on, questions abounded and Williams, who had not come out to anyone he was working with, had to hear them all.
“It’s fine to have questions, right? Nobody saying you can’t have them. But the fucking disgust, I don’t have any other word to articulate.”
He doesn’t think the disdain of others was ill-intentioned, but they also knew little about transgender people. Despite the intentions to be inclusive, the commanders also didn’t know much about transgender individuals.
Williams’ frustration is palatable as he remembers when a close friend, a female NCO, asked an instructor, “Oh so what, I’m gonna go to the gym now and there’s gonna be some dude with a dick in my locker room now just swinging around in the showers.”
With no guidance on how to respond, the instructor responded, “Well, yeah, and you’re not allowed to say anything.”
The policy on transgender members in the military kept changing, leading to a nightmarish groundhog day of transphobic questions, making Williams feel ostracized from those he had considered family.
But the biggest change came a year later, when, on July 26, 2017, President Trump announced via Twitter that transgender individuals would no longer be able to serve.
“After consultation with my Generals and military experts, please be advised that the United States Government will not accept … or allow transgender individuals to serve in any capacity in the U.S. military.”
Trump claimed that transgender individuals would burden the military with medical costs and disruption. Transgender individuals who were already serving were caught off guard.
This reversal in policy meant that many transgender individuals who had to leave the military would lose access to health care, student loan forgiveness, housing opportunities, among other things. It took two full years to implement the Trump Administration’s new policy.
While not an outright ban, it prevented anyone from enlisting if they had gender dysphoria and were taking hormones or had surgically transitioned. It also barred active troops who were diagnosed with gender dysphoria from transitioning while in uniform, making them serve under the sex they were assigned at birth. Only soldiers who had already started transitioning before the policy’s implementation were allowed to continue serving under their declared gender. A Palm Center study found that in 2018 alone, there were approximately 14,707 serving troops, all who could be affected by the new policy.
In 2021, only five days after entering office, President Biden signed an order reversing the ban.
“America is stronger, at home and around the world, when it is inclusive. The military is no exception,” the order says. “Allowing all qualified Americans to serve their country in uniform is better for the military and better for the country because an inclusive force is a more effective force. Simply put, it’s the right thing to do and is in our national interest.”
For five years, transgender soldiers had lived in limbo, their military careers at the mercy of the current administration without any permanent protections in place.
Organizations like American Veterans for Equal Rights (AVER), have shifted their focus to transgender veterans who did not benefit from the DADT repeal. Their mission now includes ensuring that “transgender patriots are allowed to serve honorably beside other members of the military. We will leave no one behind.”
As regulations change and new orders are enacted, soldiers are expected to adapt without question. But understanding and implementing new policies require training and support both in and out of the military.
Maszczak now works as an Equal Opportunity Advisor, to ensure that commanders and senior leaders are ready to lead on all issues pertaining to diversity, equity, inclusion and organizational climate.
While Maszczak is one of hundreds of people working to further develop an inclusive climate inside the military, others like Meyer- who served before DADT- work from the outside, through organizations and advocacy.
As the national Public Affairs Officer and Vice President of Veterans Affairs for AVER, Meyer helps ensure equitable support and access for all military members. Originally working to push for the end of DADT, Meyer and the organization now focus on transgender veteran affairs, because despite President Biden’s executive order that allows transgender people to serve in the military, they know there’s still work to do.
The next step is to get gender-affirming surgery covered for veterans who need it. Denis McDonough, secretary of veterans’ affairs, says that changing the regulations “will ensure the equitable treatment and safety of transgender veterans.” Meyer is optimistic that this could be changed as early as next year; McDonough says it’s likely to take years.
Williams is one of the people waiting for that change. Despite not re-enlisting, he still uses VA health services and gets disability payments after an accident left him in need of physical therapy.
Unfortunately, those services are limited. He has been able to get hormone treatments from the local VA, but not without outing himself multiple times to his doctors.
As for surgeries, he paid for his chest reconstruction surgery himself. Although many insurance companies consider this surgery necessary for transgender people, the VA categorizes it as an elective, cosmetic surgery and will not cover the costs.
He now looks forward to having a second gender reassignment surgery, but with the limitations of his health insurance and few other options, Williams will have to foot the $90,000 bill.
Surgeries are not the only setback for many transgender service members. For years, the military has been segregated by gender. Only as of 2012, the Army opened up six combat-related military occupation specialties to women. And in 2014, the Army allowed women in the Ranger School — one of the toughest training courses for which a soldier can volunteer.
The gender division has a potential to cause issues for incoming transgender troops. Before they’re formally enlisted, candidates have to go through a Military Entrance Processing Station, or MEPS, a screening to check eligibility based on physical, mental and moral standards. During MEPS, all applicants are expected to undergo a physical. For women, there is privacy during this time. Men are expected to strip down to their underwear in front of each other. This poses the first of many risks for transgender individuals who may not have had surgeries or may who have had surgeries but who have the scars from their procedures.
If an applicant moves on to being enlisted, they face hurdles that include housing and medical accommodations, harassment and even assault.
In a national online study conducted by researchers working with a grant from the Williams Institute, 17.2% of transgender veterans reported being sexually assaulted during their time serving. The rates were significantly higher for transgender men, at 30% versus 15.2% for transgender women.
While these rates of sexual assault are lower than the national average of 47% as measured by the National Sexual Violence Resource Center, they “highlight the vulnerability of transgender veterans” to military sexual assault, “and the need for military prevention programs that acknowledge transgender individuals’ heightened risk.”
Edward has now been openly out for 10 years. In that time, he has also started exploring his own gender identity, starting with his black and white pumps.
“I’d never worn heels in public before. And so for me that that was kind of the launching point to push me,” he grins as he continues. “From ‘there’s no space for a different understanding of my gender identity’ to ‘oh wow, maybe there’s space here.’”
His Facebook pages have now consolidated into one. He publishes photos and posts where he shares details about his relationship with his partner of three years. He’s since come out publically as genderqueer, showcasing his latest fashion choices on Instagram.
Last year, he was deployed to Kuwait for a year, where his journey originally began. With a small awkward laugh, Maszczak says, “All of 2020 was basically me being repressed in terms of self-expression.”
In a country where people of the LGBTQIA community can be persecuted by “debauchery” laws and back in a very masculine military environment, Maszczaks was limited in how to represent himself.
But as he dived into his new surroundings — in a more senior role and rank than his first deployment to Kuwait — he found that he still had support.
“I could openly talk about my partner, and I worked with other out, gay soldiers and leaders. I knew I had affirming military policy behind me in terms of sexual orientation. It was definitely a more inclusive environment”
Despite the stressors of 2020 — the COVID-19 outbreak, the death of George Floyd, the increase in Black Lives Matter protests and the Trump administration’s actions toward transgender soldiers — Maszczak found a silver lining.
“This deployment was way better than the last one,” says Maszczak, a smile forming on his face, “and that was way better than the first one.”
