OutRight
by
Dale Carpenter
Gays
in the Military Showers
What
will it mean to have an openly gay man among all those
glistening, athletic heterosexual male bodies?
It
all comes down to the showers, doesn't it? Sure, some
experts defend the military's antigay policy with abstruse
concepts like "unit cohesion." But those are just words.
Behind the words is sexual anxiety about homosexuals.
A retired Marine commandant who helped design President
Clinton's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy recently said
on national television that he would be uncomfortable
sharing "body heat" with a gay soldier on a cold battlefield.
It's
tempting to laugh at the paranoia behind that kind of
talk. But there is a serious question of sexual privacy
here, one that has to be addressed if openly gay soldiers
are to serve their country.
The
argument has to start with a recognition of what the
U.S. military is and what it is not. It is the most
powerful and efficient killing machine in the world.
That's a good thing for the liberties of more than 250
million people.
The
U.S. military is not an extension of civil society in
smart uniforms and shiny medals. Rights that civilians
take for granted are routinely denied to military personnel.
They are told when to wake up, when to go to sleep,
where to live, what to do, what to say and what not
to say ... and they are stripped of privacy. These,
too, are all good things for the rest of us. Whatever
we do in any area of military policy must preserve the
effectiveness of our fighting force.
Defenders
of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" argue that mixing gays and
straights in the military's atmosphere of forced intimacy
will threaten that effectiveness. In a recent Wall Street
Journal op-ed, sociology professor Charles Moskos offers
an analogy to male-female relations. "Nowhere in our
society are the sexes forced to undress in front of
each other," he observes. So we segregate men from women
in the military. "If we respect women's need for privacy
from men, then we ought to respect those of heterosexuals
with regard to homosexuals," Moskos argues.
Opponents
of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" tend to dismiss this sexual
privacy argument, and the male-female analogy in particular.
One snickering response is that heterosexual men will
now get the same unwanted sexual objectification they've
given women for centuries. Unfortunately, that answer
only reinforces the concerns it laughs at.
Another
bad response goes to the other extreme, suggesting that
gay soldiers will be asexual models of propriety. Let
us in, it is suggested, and we won't make sexual advances
or suggestions; we won't even look at our comrades in
the showers.
Please.
Back
in the real world where real people feel real sexual
attraction while living and working in close quarters,
what will it mean to have an openly gay man among all
those glistening, athletic heterosexual male bodies?
We
must first recognize that the issue is not, "Shall we
let gays serve?" Gays have always served in the military
and always will. The issue is, "Shall we let gays who
serve be honest about being gay?"
We
can segregate men from women, or exclude women, but
either way we'll know who is who. The military can't
effectively segregate gays, can't effectively exclude
gays, and can't always know who is who. That makes the
whole question different from rules governing men and
women.
Under
present policy, the straight soldier doesn't know who
might be leering at him in the shower. So he has to
wonder about everybody‹hardly a reassuring prospect.
Under a policy of openness, he'll have a better idea
who might find some of his 2,000 body parts especially
appealing. Thus, he can take whatever modest precautions
are available to minimize his exposure.
Although
openly gay soldiers will not be sexless, my hunch is
they'll be hypersensitive to the perception that they're
constantly on the make (a perception straight men don't
always mind when it comes to women). So, unlike straight
men drooling after women, openly gay military personnel
will likely be especially careful not to let their eyes
wander or their hands linger in places they're not welcome.
The
male-female analogy also misses the gay-straight dynamic
in important ways. In the male-female context, the anticipated
sexual aggressors (heterosexual males) are in the majority.
Their aggression is often approved and even encouraged
by their peers. Under those circumstances, the need
for formalized separation from the objects of their
desire is understandable.
In
the gay-straight context, on the contrary, the anticipated
sexual aggressors (known gays) are a tiny minority of
the whole. Their aggression is disapproved by their
peers, and therefore far less likely to occur or be
as intimidating when it does.
Because
straight men and women are the overwhelming majority
in the military, the expected problems associated with
mixing them in close quarters would be frequent and
widespread. Mixing straights with a tiny number of openly
gay personnel, on the other hand, would occasion comparatively
few incidents. To say it would impair the military's
effectiveness is silly.
Too,
the military separates men and women because it rightly
assumes that at least some of the attraction between
them will be mutual. We separate straight men and women
because they can't keep their hands off each other.
Yet
straight men, some of whom recoil even at homosexual
body heat, would be the first to say they'll be strictly
hands-off with gay men. I say let's take them at their
word.
Writing
from the conservative end of the spectrum, attorney
Dale Carpenter is the winner of three Vice Versa awards
for excellence in gay writing. A longtime Houston resident,
Dale began his column for OutSmart in 1994; he is now
living in San Francisco, and his column is syndicated
across the country. He can be reached care of this publication
or at OutRight@aol.com.
For more OutRight, visit www.Planetout.com.
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