Rachael Goss
Sergeant, U.S. Air Force (1991-2001)
My whole life I have been different. You see, I am a transsexual — someone born into one gender who identifies as the other. It took me a long time to come to terms with this and the military still won't, but here is my story.
I was born John Goss — a good Christian male name. I won't bore you with the details of my upbringing. Suffice it to say, I tried to be the man that men are taught to be. What better way than to join the Air Force?
I enlisted in 1991 with my best friend. I chose a field that was as "James Bond" as I could get. I worked on monitoring nuclear, biological and chemical weapons treaties compliance. I performed my job admirably, was given high ratings on my evaluations, was decorated and promoted. I enjoyed my job and was good at it. But it was work with a price. We were exposed to some very nasty chemicals and substances. Many of my friends got sick and most got out of the service in poor health. I was reassigned for a while to get me away from the chemicals, but it didn't help. After a while, it became clear I had suffered liver damage and was going to be discharged.
I had served for five years and wasn't ready to be done serving my country. So I fought to stay in, and they let me — on the condition that I do something else. I agreed to learn computer programming, and I got a new job maintaining networks, computers and training materials that the intelligence community used. I was good at this job, got high evaluations, awards and promotions, and became a supervisor.
During this time, I was getting sicker and I also was feeling increasingly conflicted about my gender identity. A friend of mine suggested that I might be transsexual. I was scared. If the Air Force ever found out, I was done. I might even lose my disability or medical coverage.
Despite my fears, I had reached the point where I had to do something, so I began looking into it. I had been scared in the field plenty of times, but that was nothing compared to my apprehension that the Air Force would find out about me. Finally I decided I needed help and I wasn't going to be able to get anywhere in the Air Force. So I quit fighting the medical discharge and retired.
Disability is helpful, but it doesn't pay the bills. And after 10 years in the Air Force, it was tough to leave; the Air Force was all I knew. I didn't have a degree, so I had to rely on my experience for a job. I ended up working with a civilian contractor for the Navy. The job kept me in the intelligence field, and once again I got good evaluations and promotions.
Now that I was out of the Air Force, I also found the opportunity to seek professional help for the issues I was facing as a transsexual. I finally accepted who and what I was and began living my life as a woman outside of work. After a lot of research and talking to other transsexuals with security clearances, I decided it was time come out at work. I had been there for two years and they knew my personality, work ethics and abilities. I talked to the manager about it and assured him it was not going to hurt my work or affect my ability to maintain a clearance. I even knew a transsexual who was working on the space shuttle! But within two months, I was let go.
Twelve years of dedicated work to the intelligence community, 12 years of caring and doing my part for national security, 12 years of sweat, labor, pain and blood defending my country — all the hard work I had been doing for 12 years was gone with the stroke of a pen by someone who was intolerant.
I protected the rights of my fellow Americans — even the ones who wouldn't tolerate me. Yet, I don't have any rights as a transsexual. I am still the same person I always was, with the same skills and abilities, just a different look on the outside.
Being a transsexual doesn't mean I can't do the job as well as someone else — it means I don't even get the chance. This kind of discrimination needs to stop. If I can help make it better for others, I'll stand up and be counted.