Vicki J. Hall
Staff Sergeant, United States Air Force (1983-1991)
In 1983, I joined the Air Force to serve my country — knowing I was homosexual and the associated risk. I knew I would have to hide my sexuality, but at the time I was willing to sacrifice my personal freedom. It wasn’t long after I enlisted that I realized not joining would have been a greater risk, as I had begun a journey toward self-respect and pride. I loved the military and how being a part of it made me feel. I excelled in my career field and was chosen Airman of the Quarter five times in my first three years. However, while my professional life was going well, my personal life was not.
The stress of hiding my lifestyle began to weigh heavily on me. I had many gay friends, both servicemen and servicewomen, with whom I shared my off-duty time. We would sneak into gay bars under the cover of darkness so as not to be caught by Office of Special Investigations personnel. We would let our hair down on the weekends only to have to put it back up in uniform during the week. The double life made military life unbearable at times. I began to dread Mondays, as the talk at the office was about what everyone did over the weekend. I had to lie, something I regret today. I was proud of myself, but too afraid of the consequences if anyone found out. So the lie continued.
After three years at my first duty station, I volunteered to go to Korea. I thought too many people knew or thought they knew about me, so this was a way to escape. I enjoyed my year there, but found the remote assignment even more personally challenging as there were no gay bars and even fewer topics for discussion on Monday mornings. I wanted to separate, but feeling unprepared to enter the civilian world, I ended up re-enlisting.
At my next duty station, I began to change. I found that I was less concerned with being outed and more concerned with being happy. I continued to stand out professionally, being selected Tactical Air Command’s Bioenvironmental Engineering Noncommissioned Officer of the Year. It was great to be me and I felt tremendous pride, but it wasn’t great to be me in the military anymore. Shortly after arrival at my new duty station, I was deployed to Saudi Arabia in support of Operation Desert Storm. Upon returning home, I seriously considered separating and subsequently chose to do so. It was a bittersweet decision. I was proud of being in the Air Force and serving my country, but I didn’t want to do it hiding anymore. I felt no protection under the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy.
In 1991, I separated after eight and a half years of faithful service to my country. I’ve grown a lot since then and I’ve learned to be open and honest about my personal life. Today, I share my love and my life with my partner Kate Lonis, a woman who happened to be in the Air Force. Isn’t it ironic? For three years, we hid our lives from her co-workers, something I didn’t think I’d ever have to do again. She finally separated after eight years of service. How unfortunate it is that the Air Force has lost yet another dedicated professional because of its unequal treatment of gay service members. We both have jobs where we are accepted as we are and, in fact, can claim one another as domestic partners. It is a far cry from the lives we used to lead.
My partner and I are only two examples of the many gays and lesbians who want to be recognized for their contributions. To this day, I do not regret spending one minute in my military uniform. What I do regret is that I did it under false pretenses. The men and women in uniform today deserve the same respect I did — respect as professionals, without regard to sexual orientation. Although I never got it, I hope one day they will.