The Act of Telling

The sand was powdery and fine. It got into everything and I was still trying to get use to the dusty grounds of Camp Falluja.

Four years ago in March 2005, I was on the ground in Iraq surrounded by Marines. I found myself working with Marines I use to work with while I was on active-duty from 1999 to 2003. And during that time, some people whom I never TOLD, actually knew that I was gay.

Perhaps, its easy for Marines to assume that a single, female Marine, who isn't married or has a visible boyfriend is either a "dyke, a bitch or a whore."

While I served on active-duty, I was extremely cautious who I told. I confided in people, who were close friends. But not all of them. The Act of Telling was a tricky art, especially for me. Marine officers are taught to live and breathe Esprit de Corps and the creed "Honor, Courage and Commitment."

And some officers are by the book....and some are not. Don't Ask, Don't Tell was a policy, voted into law by Congress. And it was there in black and white. An insidious gag order that basically forced people to hide a large part of themselves -- who they are and love.

For me, it was hard not to be sky-lined, despite by short stature. In a service where only 6 percent of the total Marine Corps were women, I also happened to be one of the few Korean-American officers. And lucky for me, I was in one of the smallest military occupational specialties.

So, I only told a handful of my friends. I found that I couldn't be myself. I couldn't really relax until I could share with my friends my personal life. Every time, I told someone, I held my breath. I didn't know how they would react. I only knew that I was putting a great amount of trust in my friends. The Act of Telling was in many ways a test of faith - in myself and in my friends.

It was Father's Day at Camp Blue Diamond in Ramada. I hadn't called home at all since my unit left Camp Lejeune for Iraq. My old friend and colleague offered me the use of his "SAT" phone. He told me, "Hey you should call home. But remember that people monitor the frequencies." That was his way of saying, "I know." I remember thanking him and feeling a weight kind of hit me. I never told him, but he knew. And I never felt that I could tell him. But he was trying to protect me.

It seems like such a simple task - just speaking what is true. But it isn't. And yet the Act of Telling is the right thing to do. The fight to end Don't Ask, Don't Tell will not be won by the ones who are silent, but supportive. However, they certainly have helped with volunteering their time and their funding.

The fight to end Don't Ask, Don't Tell will be won by those who can tell and reach out to a broad-base of people. This fight is about military readiness and equality. The arguments have been stated over and over again, but ultimately is starts with the Act of Telling.

Conduct Unbecoming: Women and Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Article 133 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice reads:

Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman is an offense subject to court martial defined in the punitive code of the United States Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ).

The elements are

1. That the accused did or omitted to do certain acts; and
2. That, in the circumstances, these acts or omissions constituted conduct unbecoming an officer and gentleman.

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The first time I picked up Randy Shilt's book Conduct Unbecoming I was a 2nd Lieutenant stationed at Quantico, VA. I was a member of third platoon ("third herd") of Bravo Company in 2000. Occasionally I would go up to Washington DC to escape to Dupont Circle with some friends. And I remember going to Kramer's Bookstore and picking up Shilt's book.

I skimmed through the book and put it back on the shelf. I wanted to buy it, but I didn't. Later, I did buy the book, but it was after I decided to leave active-duty to go to graduate school in 2003 at a Different Light Bookstore in West Hollywood.

Conduct Unbecoming chronicled the history of gays in the military prior to Don't Ask, Don't Tell. And what I found especially fascinating were the stories of female Marines at Parris Island, SC in the early 1980s. This was a period of time dubbed the "Witch hunts" and as a lieutenant at Parris Island in 2001 to 2003, the impact of those times are still felt.

I remember receiving my orders to report to the headquarters of 6th Marine Corps District at Parris Island, SC in the fall of 2001. Everyone at the III Marine Expeditionary Force Public Affairs Office wanted to know where I was going and the instant I told some of the other Marines they warned me to be careful of 4th Battalion and "those" women. It sure was nice of those Marines to try to protect me from "those women."

When the Witch hunts of the early 80s were over, the Marine Corps official discharged approximately 23 women for homosexual conduct. In reality, many women, especially staff non-commissioned officer and officers, were forced to resign and their numbers are not reflected in the "23." When all was said and done, the casualties of this "hunt" numbered closer to 65. The most disturbing thing about this time period was that service members were actually being placed in military prison for violating article 133, Conduct Unbecoming.

So, when I first drove onto the Island in my tiny green Honda Civic, I was petrified. I didn't want to be another casualty of a witch hunt. I just wanted to be a good Marine officer, take care of my Marines and get the job done.

Here is a statement of fact:

While women comprise 15% of military personnel, they account for 30% of discharges under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

Hey you, this is me...

I learned how to use the PRC-119 in a class at The Basic School in Quantico, VA (the Crossroads of the Marine Corps) back in 2000. And I remember one of the motivated sergeants say, "Hey you, this is me...." And so, this entry is a little intro about who I am and where I came from.

I am a Marine. But I didn't always start out that way. I was born in Los Angeles and raised in the OC. After I graduated from UCLA, I attended Officer Candidate School. I graduated second in my platoon and was commissioned a 2^nd LT in December of 1999.

I served on active duty from 1999 to 2003 and I was a Public Affairs Officer. My job was to tell the Marine Corps story to the public. And I loved it. It was an honor to be both a leader of Marines and a spokesperson for the Nation’s 911 force. I got to see so many different aspects of the Marine Corps and then share it with others. It was an awesome job and I had a great time.

When I first joined the Marine Corps, I was well-aware of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy. And I believed that all that mattered was that I would be the best Marine I could be and I didn’t need a personal life. And it’s funny how life doesn’t quite work that way.

My Marines would often talk about their significant others and I would be the boring lieutenant, who was a workaholic. While I was deployed to Iraq in 2005, I bumped into an officer in Ramadi, who told me, “You were the best lieutenant I ever had.” Go figure that.

I left active duty in 2003 to go to graduate school and to escape the stress of living under Don't Ask, Don't Tell. I somehow managed to get admitted to Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism and earned a MS degree. But then something interesting happened, in 2004, I was activated to go join the 5th Civil Affairs Group to go to Falluja and Ramadi Iraq.

My friends wanted me to "tell," pull the gay card so to speak. But it was my duty to go and I wanted to go. War is what Marines train for and Marines always want to serve side by side with other Marines. So I went and I am so glad that I did.

Currently, I am a Los Angeles Police Officer. I graduated at the top of my class in Feb 2007 and am currently patrolling the streets of LA. I am a Marine, news junkie, public servant, Bruin, hiker, biker and sometimes skateboarder....and fighter against social injustice.