The Right to Dream

Until recently I thought one of the few perks I had being gay was my inability to serve in the military. Oh that and not being able to donate blood. (Not really a fan of needles).

I don't believe this anymore. (Well, maybe I'm still a little on the fence about the blood).

I have certainly believed that Don't Ask Don't Tell should be eliminated for the sake of Dan Choi and the thousands of other enlisted LGBTs whose lives and careers have been devastated by the policy. What I have never thought, though, is that this discriminatory law had any impact on me personally.

Until now.

I just made a brief appearance at the Queer Rising sponsored protest in front of the Army Recruitment Center in Times Square. And while I watched young gays try and fail to enter the building, I for some reason began thinking about my childhood.

I was not one of those kids who knew that they were gay at 4. I didn't even know it at 14. I insulated myself from those feelings so securely that if I was in a closet, I was unaware of it. At the first sign of a crack in the walls I built around myself, The plaster was out. The damage, repaired.

Still, all this self protection could not completely shield me from the knowledge that I was somehow different from most people.

At an early age I knew I wanted to be an actor. But I didn't talk about that. Because I felt I was not the same as the men I saw in movies. Not strong enough, or virile, or SOMETHING intangible that I couldn't articulate.

And now I must stop writing and ask my sad, little inner-child a question: "You didn't think there was a place for yourself in the arts?"

Really?

Wow. That's incredible.

Suddenly, I realize I have an obligation to the generations that come behind me. Being in the military wasn't anything I ever wanted for myself. But for some kids, that's the dream. They want to serve and protect this nation. Unfortunately, unlike me, who only thought I did not have a place, this outcast child knows for a fact that he or she is not welcome. Their call to be brave and honorable and true can not be realized. Not today anyway.

This child is forced to let this dream die.

And as a result, how many other dreams will also die?

Here's one for sure: If you can not serve in the military you can not be the President of the United States.

Of course we have had presidents who have not been in the military. We've even had a president who was a draft dodger. But all of our presidents have had the ability to serve. It has been within their rights to serve.

There will never be a commander in chief who is forbidden by law from protecting his country.

And so what are we stealing from our LGBT youth if we don't demand the repeal of DADT? We are taking from them their ability to aspire to greatness. Greatness in all fields.

There is a ceiling pressing down upon my head. I am trying, trying to break through--for myself and for all those children.

Because now I see clearly before my eyes every moment I settled for something safer. Something lesser. Something that would not rock the boat, because I taught myself not to aim too high.

This law has destroyed the careers of 13,500 gay and lesbian soldiers. That is a shameful statistic.

But what is equally shameful is the way in which this ban keeps us all in our place. Like segregated marriage, DADT tells every LGBT American that there is a place for you.

And that place is in the back.