Chuck Clopton
Commander, U.S. Navy (Retired)
My friends at the Human Rights Campaign have asked me to write about what I call my journey. While its starting point was homophobia, I am well past that issue. I don't think I've reached the end point yet, but I hope that the road ahead is as rewarding as the journey has been thus far.
Through writing this, I have been convinced, once again, of the truth that we are all taught in Sunday school, or temple, or mosque, or at our mother's knee: prejudice is wrong.
My prejudice against gays came from a single incident. In 1981, I was the lawyer on an aircraft carrier. We did a nine-month deployment to the Indian Ocean. One morning, a young sailor who had just finished 16 hours on the flight deck, was raped and badly beaten by two other men aboard the ship.
Almost immediately, the incident was widely known throughout the ship. Anger and frustration grew when we were unsuccessful in apprehending the perpetrators. And even though we had no idea who had done it, I decided, based on that incident, that I didn't like gays. This wasn't a logical position, but my emotions overrode logic. And because I wasn't dealing with gays on a day-to-day basis -- at least that I knew of -- my dislike remained. It manifested itself mostly in inappropriate humor.
In 1987, I was lucky enough to meet and marry Jill. In the beginning, just about the only thing we ever argued about was my attitude toward gays, because Jill had a number of gay friends and she wanted me to share in some of those friendships. I wasn't interested. Then, in 1990, I prosecuted and won a conviction against a senior Navy dentist for 15 counts of sexual assault against eight women. As I was putting the finishing touches on my closing argument to the jury and running ideas and phrases past Jill, she said something that stopped me dead in my tracks. She gently asked why, since my dislike of gays came from that one incident on the carrier years before, I didn't have an equal dislike for heterosexuals based on the number of heterosexual rapes that occur each year. She also reminded me that rape is an act of anger, not a sexual act. Of course I had no answer.
Over the next several years, the validity of my position on gays was further challenged as Jill would from time to time tell me that friends of hers, or mine, or ours - whom I liked and whose sexual orientation had never been a question in my mind -- were gay. Incidentally, some of those folks were in the Navy. Again I had no answer.
In the mid-'90s, while I was assigned to the U.S. Special Operations Command in Tampa, Fla., I turned on the news one night after work and saw a film clip of then Rep. Bob Dornan, the extreme right-wing Republican. Dornan was well known at Special Operations Command as one of its biggest congressional supporters. The news was reporting that, with a red face, pointing a finger and using loud language, Dornan had attacked Rep. Steve Gunderson, R-Wis., earlier in the day on the issue of Gunderson's sexual orientation while Dornan stood on the floor of the U.S. House. Of course the attack made the news. Fortunately, so did the quiet, logical and dignified response by Gunderson.
In 1995, the Navy brought my family and me to Washington where we joined a church in McLean, Va. One evening after we had been in Washington for several months, I turned on the evening news and again saw Gunderson speaking. This time it had to do with a really horrible piece of legislation called The Defense of Marriage Act. He was speaking about the fundamental injustice and lack of logic in that legislation. He talked about the fact that his partner of more than 13 years could not share his health benefits or the other benefits provided to a congressional spouse. While a heterosexual can marry, divorce, remarry and transfer benefits with no questions asked, gays and lesbians routinely are denied the same opportunity. I didn't know that, and it bothered me.
By this time, I recognized Steve Gunderson from the church we'd joined after arriving in Washington. That may be why I had the courage, a week or so later, to walk up to him in a supermarket parking lot and introduce myself as a naval officer, thank him for his remarks, and give him a brief version of my journey. Since then we've talked about that journey, and about difficulties that I guess a lot of people in the gay and lesbian community may take in stride -- but that are equally troubling to those of us on the outside. Maybe that is why I think it is important for everyone, straight or gay, to become educated, to speak out and to be visible supporters of the cause of true equality in the finest American tradition.
This journey has been so rewarding, especially when those opportunities have arisen to introduce Jill to a number of gay friends, many of whom I have met through the Human Rights Campaign or Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. They have enriched our lives so much. And, for the most part, they are patient with me as I walk this road. One of the most cherished words in Navy vocabulary is "shipmate." Many of these new friends are, indeed, our shipmates.
To reiterate, I served with people during my 31 years of service who happened to be gay, and I didn't know it because it never came up. But the problem is that the "don't ask, don't tell" policy isn't just about keeping one's sexual life private - it's about regulating attitude. By having a rule that allows straight people to be open about their sexuality while gay people have to hide it, the military is effectively instilling in service members a belief that it is wrong to be gay. Regulating conduct in the military is proper, but regulating belief is not. The ban on service by openly gay Americans perpetuates prejudice against gay people and denies our country the service of untold numbers of remarkable individuals who would gladly serve capably and honorably.
The several people who have "come out" to me since retirement from the military, (both mine and theirs), were, without exception, "squared away" in the military sense of that term. One, who was probably the most demanding boss I had in my military career, also can claim credit for my meeting my wife, so I am indebted to him both personally and professionally. I was proud to serve with these folks while on active duty and would be equally proud to serve with them again if the opportunity arose. I can't help thinking that both sides have lost in this equation. These former service members have lost the thrill of getting up every morning, putting on our country's uniform and serving. And our country has suffered a greater loss - the deprivation of their service.