As anniversaries go, a 17th is not typically considered all that special. Sure, it marks longevity in a relationship, or, in gay (read dog) years, it marks a very, very long time. But in the universe of momentous anniversaries to which we assign a certain emotional memory, a 17th is not all that memorable.

It is for me. This year marks 17 years ago that I came out at the 1993 March on Washington, having been the closeted 6th U.S. Army Soldier of the Year. Much like Col. Grethe Cammermeyer, Cmdr. Zoe Dunning, Lt. Tracy Thorne, Petty Officer Keith Meinhold, Cadet Joseph Steffan, and others before me, I sacrificed my military career almost two decades ago to speak out on the issue of whether gays and lesbians should serve openly in our armed forces. Ours was an attempt to influence the course of history vis-à-vis former president Bill Clinton’s waffling on a presidential campaign promise he made to the LGBT community, which would have made him the first U.S. president to do anything to advance our cause. Beyond the pain advocates felt with the eventual enactment of the disgraceful "don't ask, don't tell" compromise, what ensued was the destruction of more than 13,000 military careers since 1993 — which has had a profound effect on countless lives and has impacted the U.S. military in ways its leaders would rather not admit (e.g., losing service members in critical military specialties).

What makes this 17-year anniversary poignant for me is that at long last I see a light (or is it a flicker of light?) at the end of the tunnel. I am daring to hope — despite the many cautionary signs and the tremendous challenges that lie ahead — that at long last we may have turned the corner in our battle to honor the memories of Sgt. Leonard Matlovich (who came out as a gay airman in 1975) and other brave gay and lesbian veterans, while securing a better future for current and future gay and lesbian service members. How great it would be if next year, rather than reminisce about careers destroyed or worry about careers at risk, we could rejoice that our individual and collective efforts paid off. Seventeen-plus years of planning and plotting, pushing and prodding, asking and demanding; these years have been exhausting. And that exhaustion is more acute for those gay and lesbian service members, some waging war on foreign soil (as I was in Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm), who must serve their country in forced silence.

Dare we imagine that in 2010 our country will begin to redress a grave
injustice against a minority of patriotic Americans whose only
“disqualification” is loving someone of the same gender? The signs are
good.