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Dos cartas contra Don’t Ask Don’t Tell

8 May, 2010

Todavía falta mucho para que quiten la ley “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” en el ejército que prohibe a los gays servir “abiertamente”. Claro, a pesar de que parece ser inevitable.

¿Cómo eres una persona completa sin poder hablar de tu pareja, sexo, con quién vives o la razón por qué no tienes una pareja del sexo opuesto?

Aquí, una carta al presidente Obama por parte  del nieto de Harry Truman, el presidente americano que prohibió la segregación en el ejército a pesar de que sus jefes militares le advirtieron que “destruiría a las fuerzas armadas”. El nieto apela a favor de la eliminación de la “DADT”.

Y todavía más importante, esta carta en donde un soldado gay narra su historia de abuso dentro de la “Navy” debido a la inútil ley. Es un soldado que toda su vida admiró y dio todo para las fuerzas armadas, pero simplemente no pudo seguir viviendo como un sub-humano. Los abusos que cuenta son horribles:

I never wanted anything more in my life than to be a career officer. My entire childhood I was exposed to abuse, violence, and crime. I came out of it all with a simple, yet overwhelming desire to serve. When my first attempt at getting into the Naval Academy failed, I waited restlessly until I turned eighteen. I enlisted on my birthday and set off to prove myself to the Academy. I was eager to leave the cruelty of my past and join a true family.
I knew I was gay, but it was irrelevant to me then. I was determined to join an elite team of handlers working with dogs trained to detect explosives. As I studied hard to pass exams and complete training, I was convinced that the current law would protect me. I knew that based on merit and achievement I would excel in the military.

Shop talk in the unit revolved around sex, either the prostitute-filled parties of days past or the escapades my comrades looked forward to. They interpreted my silence and total lack of interest as an admission of homosexuality. My higher-ups seemed to think that gave them the right to bind me to chairs, ridicule me, hose me down and lock me in a feces-filled dog kennel.

On one day in the Middle East, I was ordered by a superior to get down on my hands and knees and simulate oral sex on a person working in the kennel. We were supposed to pretend that we were in our bedroom and that the dogs were catching us in the act. Over and over, with each of the dogs in our unit, I was forced to endure this scenario.

Three and a half years later when the Navy started investigating claims of hazing, I had finally earned my place at the Naval Academy Preparatory School. But instead of celebration, I began to question the life of persecution, degradation, and dishonor DADT had forced on me. I questioned the institution — our great military — that would condone and endorse this kind of treatment of its own members. The only thing I had ever done wrong was to want the same thing my straight counterparts wanted: a brotherhood and something to stand for.

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