Goodbye to All That

A gay Air Force pilot says the end of "Don't ask, don't tell" ushers in a new era for the military

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Eric Ogden for TIME

It was nearly two decades ago that I stood transfixed, clenching a chain-link fence at the Kennedy Space Center, watching the shuttle Discovery rise on a column of flame. My uncle Blaine Hammond was at the controls. I had never felt so proud. As the ground shook underneath me, a single thought raced through my mind: I want to do that.

Last December I finally sat at the controls of an Air Force C-17 cargo plane. For the first time, I pushed the four throttle levers forward and accelerated down a long Oklahoma runway into the sky. Being a pilot in the U.S. military had been my dream, and I worked tirelessly to make it a reality. Being gay was never part of the plan.

The day after that first flight, President Obama signed into law the repeal of the ban on open service for gays in the military, known as "Don't ask, don't tell." It marked a turning point for both my professional and personal lives. Many in uniform will be surprised, following the Sept. 20 lifting of the ban, to learn that some of their battle buddies have been living a secret life while still keeping up the fight.

My story is typical. I had some reservations signing up for the service as a gay man under the ban, but my desire to fly trumped them. I grew up in Hingham, Mass., and got my mechanical-engineering degree from Syracuse University in 2008. I trained at Oklahoma's Vance Air Force Base, where I earned my wings in July 2010. I'm now a first lieutenant at New Jersey's McGuire Air Force Base. Being gay in uniform always made me feel vulnerable. Once, drifting into personal terrain during a chat with a fellow pilot, I was taken aback when he said, "If I find out you're a fag, I'm going to beat the living crap out of you right here and now." The ban's end eases but doesn't erase such concerns.

Living under "Don't ask" was like being in a world that was upside down. From the start, it made life precarious. There was the constant threat of losing your job and career, but that was only part of the struggle. I've heard too many stories of closeted colleagues who were discovered and then exploited by co-workers. It happened to me: a few years ago, a male acquaintance demanded sexual favors in exchange for keeping my identity secret. I was lucky enough to defuse the situation--sparing both my dignity and my career--but there have been many others who were blackmailed either out of the service or into military oblivion. Putting aside personal angst, there was the risk the policy posed to our national security; with "Don't ask, don't tell" ended, the possibility of extortion evaporates. Our nation will be stronger because of the policy's demise.

Then there was the matter of fairness. To me, the "Don't ask" law and the Pentagon policy it spawned were inconsistent with the priority the U.S. military places on family life. I know gay people who have served for years under the rule and, because of it, have been unable to start a family. It says something about their commitment to our country that so many gay and lesbian servicepeople put their military careers above their personal lives.

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