Channeling Gandhi

In late September
a small group of dedicated young men and women gathered
in the parking lot of Gonzaga University, a small private
Catholic school in Washington State. I was part of
that brigade of 12 to 15 people who from
there embarked on a journey that would take us to a
local military recruitment center to demonstrate
against the “don’t ask, don’t
tell” policy, which bans openly gay, lesbian, and
bisexual people from serving in the armed forces.

My friend Dana
Corral and I were prepared to enlist in the Army as
openly gay recruits. We held a small vigil in recognition of
the thousands of soldiers who currently serve their
country in silence. We then pondered the life
teachings of both Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr.
Then we headed to the doors of the recruitment center.

When
we arrived we were met by a surprised group
of movers, who were rearranging desks and furniture
for the center, as well as a warm and friendly
recruiter, Sergeant Clark. He was shocked too; he
had assumed that our announcement earlier that morning
was just a hoax. Dana and I approached
him, explained who we were, and announced that we
wanted to enlist in the Army but that we were not
willing to lie about who we are. He said he empathized
with us and explained that because of the policy he
was not permitted to allow us to apply: We were
technically unqualified. We explained that we are part of
a national campaign known as Right to Serve and that as part
of our campaign we would hold a sit-in. In his
kindness, his immediate reaction was to look for
chairs for us.

Members of the
news media came in, and as the organizer I started to
detail all of the hypocrisy of the “don’t ask,
don’t tell” policy and I told the
reporters that we were not willing to leave until we
had a commitment from our state and federal legislators to
end “don’t ask, don’t
tell.” The recruiter probably would have let us stay
all week, month, or year if he could have, but
his superior instructed him to call the police and he
had to comply. He asked the reporters and the rest of
our supporters to leave, and I declared that three
of us—Dana, Nick LaPalm (our straight ally),
and I—wouldn’t leave, that we'd have to
be removed by force. We waited there for two
hours, and outside the media and our
sign-wielding supporters remained, until finally an
officer arrived.

The officer
approached the center, stopping to look at the signs of our
supporters, signs that read “Support our troops...
the gay ones too,” and then she came in to talk
with us. We told her who we were and that we were not
willing to leave until we were arrested. She agreed, and we
willingly followed her to her car with our hands behind our
backs. She issued a citation for trespassing, but
the huge smile on her face conveyed
her obvious support of our message and actions. My
favorite quote from her was "I may be smiling, but it
doesn't mean I'm not taking this seriously."

In the end, we
learned that to stand up for what we believe in is not
only the right thing to do but an obligation that we all
must take upon ourselves. Secondly we learned
that sometimes we find allies in the strangest
places, but that just goes to show that people are sometimes
more open then we assume and our initial fear is not always
warranted.