The full transcript of LT Thomasson's statement before the
Board of Inquiry held in a military courtroom at the Washington Navy Yard on May
23rd and 24th 1994.
"Good morning. In this statement, I hope to provide the members of the Board with some understanding as to how and why I came to stand before you this morning.
In the summer before I started college, my father and I took a tour of a Navy ship during "SeaFair" -- an event held in Seattle each summer. The Petty Officer who was conducting that tour used a phrase that stuck in my mind. The words were "while America sleeps."
I remember a sudden awareness that there were all sorts of people in the military -- on patrol at sea -- in planes -- and on borders around the world -- keeping the world safe from what at that time seemed a very real threat -- the Soviet Union. I decided that for at least some part of my life, I ought to be one of those people. I joined the Navy ROTC program at the beginning of my freshman year at Washington State University.
I chose the Navy because it offered the most diverse jobs among the services, and I hadn't yet decided what I wanted to do. Along the way I chose aviation -- mostly because my friends did, but I did have the aptitude scores and the required vision. After graduation and commissioning. I attended flight school in Pensacola and Corpus Christi before starting my first operational tour in Patrol Squadron Nine at Moffett Field, California.
I enjoyed my tour in VP-9 very much. I got the chance to see a lot of the world with my crew -- flying low over the edge of the Polar Ice Cap -- buzzing Bedouins' camels at the end of the runway in Saudi Arabia -- riding mopeds in formation on the "wrong side" of the road in Bermuda -- and witnessing the seediness and squalor of Olongapo in the Philippines. I have many great memories of VP-9 -- not only the places I visited or the professional satisfaction of knowing that my crew and my department had done well -- but more importantly, the people. I made some really great friendships in VP-9. I have only just recently realized how great some of those friendships really are.
After my tour in VP-9, I was selected for a Joint Chiefs of Staff Internship. I came to Washington to work in the Strategy Division of the Strategic Plans and Policy Directorate (J-5) on the Joint Staff. My tour there was by far the most demanding of my career. Eleven-hour days were the norm. I became a creator of visual aids used by senior leaders for briefings, congressional testimony, and press conferences. The pressure was intense, both to meet the deadline and to get the substance right -- but I loved it. Important people seemed willing to listen to my ideas, and in some small way, I felt like I was really contributing to major policy decisions. It was a rewarding experience, and I'd very much like to serve there again.
After the Joint Staff, I came to work in the Front Office of Pers-5/N12, the Total Force Programming and Manpower Division. In my two years there, I have worked directly for four different Admirals as they rotated through my office. I've learned a lot from them. They have all been good to me, and I appreciate it.
I am a good officer and I've done well in the Navy. I'm proud of my service. I am not proud, however, that during my career I have had to pretend to be someone who I am not: creating non-existent girlfriends -- feigning interest in women that I didn't really feel -- "smiling knowingly" when shipmates asked me whether I had "gotten lucky" -- and allowing them to think that I had. But being forced to pretend about who you are takes an emotional toll.
In the spring of 1992, I had the privilege of accompanying General Powell and Secretary Cheney during various appearances before Congress. My job was to coordinate with the committee staffs and to assist the General with the visual aids which I had created for his testimony. At one such hearing, before the House Budget Committee, General Powell was questioned rather harshly by Representative Barney Frank about his views on homosexuals in the military. As general Powell spoke about the negative effect that gay servicemembers would have as though there weren't any in the military, while I sat right behind him, I was deeply ashamed for not having the courage to say: "I am right here General, and that's not true."
When President Clinton announced his intention to lift the ban shortly after taking office, I was elated -- believing that I would finally be able to stop pretending and serve openly. But I watched with despair as his initiative produced a political circus, and was amazed and offended by the outrageous stereotypes of gays relied upon by some policymakers. I went through a period when I thought seriously about resigning from the Navy, wondering whether I could stand staying in until retirement, having to keep up the facade.
When the "don't ask, don't tell" compromise became the law of the land, I decided that I had to act. Because I had done well in the Navy, and because I was known personally by the very Admirals who would be charged with implementing this policy, I knew that there could be few in a better position than I to help change the stereotypes and ignorance that had created it. In addition, I felt that everything the Navy itself had taught me -- honesty -- courage -- and personal integrity -- demanded that I stand up, in my own small way, to set the record straight.
Last December, while at home on leave, trying to decide whether to "come out" to the Navy -- I did the single most difficult thing I have ever done. I told my parents that I am gay. I did so not knowing what their reaction would be or whether that would be the last day I would ever see them. I didn't even take my luggage out of the car before I told them, fearing that I might have to go straight back to the airport.
Their reaction, happily for me, was one of unconditional love and support. Then I told them that I intended to "come-out" to the Navy. Though they were concerned about how I would be treated, and the legal ramifications of my "coming-out," they pledged their total and unconditional support. After that very positive experience, I proceeded to tell the rest of my extended family. I cannot tell you how cathartic it was to finally be open about who I am, and to find that they all still love me. It was definitely the best Christmas ever.
On Wednesday the 2nd of March, 1994, after reading the NAVADMIN message to the fleet announcing implementation of the new policy, I presented a letter announcing my orientation to my reporting senior, Rear Admiral Konetzni. His reaction was one of calm understanding and respect for the convictions that had led to my announcement. Though he said that he would act in accordance with the requirements of the new policy, he said that he saw no reason for me to be moved from my current position. After notifying Admiral Konetzni, I provided copies of my letter to the other Admirals for whom I have worked, and to some of the people with whom I work now, and those who work for me.
Their reactions were wonderful. Rear Admiral Ryan told me that it didn't change his opinion of me. When I told Rear Admiral Gunn, who was then the Admiral most directly responsible for implementing the new policy, that I hoped he would not be embarrassed by the great fitness reports he had given me, he said that he didn't regret a word of them.
My peers and subordinates were similarly accepting, and in the ensuing days, as more people learned of my announcement, many approached me and offered their support. A common theme in these conversations was that I had changed their impressions of homosexuals. One commander, for example, told me that I had precipitated a lot of soul-searching about stereotypes among himself and the other officers in his division.
With regard to the morale and productivity of my office, I am sure that all involved would support me in saying that my announcement has had absolutely no ill effect. My ability to do my job, work effectively with peers and seniors, and to command respect and obedience from juniors has not suffered; and indeed it has improved as a tremendous burden has been lifted from my conscience.
To this day, though hundreds of the people with whom I work know that I am gay -- I have not found a single person who has said anything remotely negative to me -- or altered in any negative way the manner in which they relate to me. Surprisingly, many of the people with whom I interact daily have been far nicer to me since my announcement than they ever were before. This general acceptance leads me to believe that the vast majority of servicemembers would have no problem accepting my orientation.
Although initially, as with my parents, I really didn't know what to expect -- the whole experience of my "coming out" and the reception from my shipmates over the last three months has convinced me that, in future assignments, I will be able to overcome any prejudice or discontent with my presence, once people come to know me as a person and an officer, rather than as a stereotype.
My loyalty and dedication to this country and to the Navy has not and cannot be questioned. My performance and record are also not in doubt. So what is this about?
We are here today because of my declaration -- words -- a statement of who I am -- not an admission of a crime. I am gay, and I'm not ashamed of it.
Based solely upon that declaration, and without any accusation or evidence of misconduct, I am now told that in order to continue my career in the Navy, I must defend myself against a presumption of guilt. It's just not right. No other proceeding imposes such an unfair burden on an individual.
If this proceeding is about me, then I hope that you will conclude that I should be retained, based on my performance and contribution to the Navy. With each passing day, the positive reactions of my shipmates give me more and more reason to believe that I can serve effectively as an openly gay officer.
Given that opportunity, I believe that my shipmates are capable of judging me for my abilities and individual worth to my unit -- rather than on the basis of pre-conceived stereotypes about homosexuals. I only ask that you do the same.
If -- after all that you have heard today -- the members of this board wonder why I have not done more to rebut the presumption that : I "engage in -- attempt to engage in -- have a propensity to engage in -- or intend to engage in homosexual acts." I will try to explain.
Preparing for this Board has been the most degrading experience of my life. The process of asking the people with whom I have served -- and do serve -- to appear as witnesses, or for statements on my behalf has been truly humiliating. Many have voiced concerns about possible retaliation by the Navy, and the support of those who have appeared and submitted statements is truly courageous. I am honored by their willingness to stand up for me and for what they have said about me. I owe them a great debt. But I shouldn't have had to ask them, and they shouldn't have had to risk their careers.
I will not go further in degrading myself by disproving a charge about sexual conduct that no one has made. I rest on my record and the testimony you have heard today; that I am -- and can continue to be -- an effective and professional officer in the United States Navy.
I thank you for your time and attention."