SSgt. Craig Wiesner in 1986 at the Defense Language Institute

In 1987 I left the United States Air Force after serving honorably for eight years. I couldn’t stand the idea of having to hide who I was, having to live a lonely isolated life, and despite being willing to live without love or true companionship, facing the constant threat of being outed and having my career destroyed.

This week, Congress can help to right a wrong that has destroyed lives, careers, and perpetuated prejudice and discrimination against people who simply wanted to serve their country. The military has spoken and those who serve have said that they want an end to “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” Let’s show our military that we listen to them and urge Congress to put an end to this stain on our nation’s honor.

You’ll see a call to action from the Human Rights Campaign at the bottom of this post. Before that I wanted to share my story so that you’ll understand how personal a call it is.

When I joined the Air Force I knew I was gay, but I had decided that I could forgo love in order to have a good career and a chance to go to college. I know now that was an unfair choice to have to make (and a foolish one at that), but I was willing to live that way.

I was an all-star in Basic Training, graduating with honors. My squad leader was a really great guy, who helped everyone in our squad succeed, and I was thrilled when I found out he was also going to be heading to Monterey to learn to be a linguist along with me. A few weeks after we arrived, he was suddenly pulled from class. Someone had told the commander that they thought he was homosexual. That was all it took and a few weeks later he was gone. Career over.

I made it through language school, top of my class, and then soared through the next phase of training in Texas. Arriving in Korea I sailed through on-the-job-training and became one of the youngest supervisors and trainers in the unit’s history. During my second year in Korea I lived through a witch hunt when a fellow linguist decided he couldn’t stay in the closet any longer. He told the commander he was gay and was immediately relived of duty. The hunt was on for who knew he was gay and who else might be gay.

I had told my best friend that I was gay just a few days before this all started. He was also a good friend of the other guy who had come out to the commander. They interrogated my friend, the whole bright light in a dark room thing! They showed him a picture of his parents’ house and asked him if he liked it. “Yeah. I grew up there.” he told them. “Well, it’s too bad your mommy and daddy are going to lose it by the time we’re finished with you. All your legal bills are going to cost them everything they have. They won’t want their little baby to go to jail forever, and that’s where you’re heading if you don’t tell us who else in this unit is a fag.” His response was wonderful. “I know my rights and I know you can’t take away my parents’ house. What you’re doing right now isn’t right. If you want to court martial me, go ahead, but I have nothing more to say to you. Can I leave now?” He could and he did.

Still, once he told me about what had happened, I was terrified.

One afternoon a few days later, when I was getting a replacement badge for entering our unit, the security policeman in charge of guarding our unit started to chat with me as he made my new badge. “Some mess that guy caused around here. Never would have guessed he was a fag.” I didn’t respond to him which perhaps is what prompted him to continue. “Now you… I wonder about you. How come you hardly ever go drinking with the rest of the crowd. I’ve noticed that even if you do go out, you don’t drink very much and you NEVER go home with any of the girls.” The girls he mentioned were the prostitutes that frequented the bars around our base. “You know, in your next assignment you’re heading to Fort Meade, and everyone has to take a lie detector test when they arrive. If you’re a fag, they’re going to find out.”

I asked him to please give me my badge and left. Shortly after that I found out about a job opening to be a language instructor at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey. The good news was I wouldn’t have to renew my security clearance, thus no lie detector test. The bad news was I’d have to reenlist for four years to take the job. I applied, got the job, and reenlisted. For the next four years I stayed completely in the closet and watched as incredibly talented young men and women got pulled out of class and kicked out of the military because they were suspected of being gay. All you had to do was slip a note under an officer’s door saying “So and so is queer.” and that person would be gone. What a waste. What a tragedy. What a crime.

Despite early promotions, medals, a very promising career, and the opportunity to become an officer after I graduated from the University of San Francisco (I attended in my spare time), I left the Air Force in 1987. I LOVED my job. I loved teaching and I loved the intelligence field. My friends were stunned that I was leaving, clueless as to why I would just quit. They were actually quite angry with me, thinking I was crazy. If only they knew I was gay. If only being gay wasn’t a reason to have to quit. What a waste. What a tragedy. What a crime.

Other people should not have to go through what I did. Those who want to serve should be able to do so. Now even the people serving in today’s military agree with that. Below is a letter from the Human Rights Campaign with information on what you can and I hope will do as quickly as possible to bring an end to Don’t Ask Don’t Tell!

From the Human Rights Campaign: