How the military’s discriminatory “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” ban on gay and lesbian service members changed one man’s life forever.
Fearing for your life, entering rehab and finding a new path.
BY ANDRE SHUMATE
I was 23 years old and had been a successful talent agent since the age of nineteen. This in itself was a huge accomplishment as my childhood was riddled with trauma—losing my father at the age of 13 when he tried to kill my mother in a jealous rage.
I had gotten myself through high school with the unfaltering notion that I would do whatever it takes to achieve my dreams of one day having my own family and being a father.
Being a successful talent agent at such a young age came with generous perks. I could walk right into any nightclub in LA and receive VIP treatment.
However, even at the age of 23, I yearned for something more real and substantial in my professional life—and even more so in my personal life. It was around this time a friend of mine had gotten out of the United States Coast Guard. I saw her going to school—paid for in full by the G.I. Bill. I felt there was a certain level of security that came with having served in the armed forces. So a few weeks after thinking about it—I found myself off to Cape May New Jersey for Coast Guard Boot Camp.
LADIES’ MAN
After Boot Camp I was sent to a “school”—kind of like “Coast Guard College” with dorm rooms and all. I chose the position of cook because the Coast Guard has a very esteemed culinary training program and I knew that this experience could benefit me in the future.
I quickly became friends with three other guys … we would do everything together in those first weeks. One of them, Billy, was the ladies’ man of campus—a cocky New Yorker with blue eyes and jet-black hair. One day, while working out and spotting him at the bench press I couldn’t help but think to myself “Dang, Billy is kind of sexy.”
One day Anna, a girl in the program who—while overtly proud of her sexuality but somehow managed to keep it discrete—asked myself and Billy if we wanted to go with her to a gay bar in San Francisco.
We both agreed in the way one would agree to go to a circus just to check it out for shits and giggles. After arriving—and about five yager bombs later—the three of us were on the dance floor—Billy with his shirt off—and me trying not to stare. We soon found ourselves mashed together on the overly crowded patio while trying to smoke and just when things felt as if it couldn’t get any more awkward—Anna said to Billy “I think you should kiss Andre.”
He looked over at me as if he had been waiting to hear that all night, grabbed the back of neck and slowly but aggressively kissed me. It’s safe to say that this is the moment I knew for sure I was gay.
FIRST LOVE
A few years passed and I was now stationed on a large ship with about 350 sailors. That kiss with Billy was simply a memory and the only thing I had to substantiate that part of myself. Things were much different out in the fleet and I had to be extra careful about keeping my sexuality to myself as “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was in full effect. The only time the word “gay” was mentioned on the ship was when people would talk about horror stories of guys that would get outted and discharged under that law.
Knowing that I was gay but being afraid of it coming to light made me extremely uncomfortable in my own skin. I began to isolate and drink heavily on the weekends. I would sneak out to gay bars hoping to recreate that moment with Billy in San Francisco—but I was so overcome with fear and insecurity that I would always just drink myself into oblivion—either puking in the bathroom or passing out by a dumpster in some random alley.
This started to take a toll on me so I requested a two-week vacation to go back home to LA. Upon arriving I headed off to a local hole in the wall gay dive bar I had heard about. I walked in to see only three other guys there playing pool. One of the guys at that table, who I will just refer to as Mr. Iowa, was wearing a white thermal shirt with a grey skater t-shirt over it, jeans, and vans with crystal blue eyes, dirty blonde hair and a slight reddish beard.
Our eyes met and sparks flew … After spending that night with him and every day after that for the remainder of my vacation it was clear by the time he dropped me off at the airport to head back to Hawaii, we had both fallen deeply in love. After a two-week visit from him in Hawaii we made the choice to move in together. I got promoted and transferred to Long Beach and we lived with his sister in Monrovia.
Living with my partner that I loved and loved me, sharing what we had, to this day felt better than anything ever has. Before I had even officially come out of the closet I had met my first true love. Things were going well…
THE HARASSMENT
After about two months at working at the Long Beach Coast Guard Station I was notified that I was being sent to a small navy ship in San Diego to fill in for a cook for an eight-week patrol to South America.
As I packed my things I made sure to include all the necessities of being out to sea for eight weeks including my porn—which was of the male on male persuasion. Mr. Iowa asked if it was wise for me to bring it and I replied “They are bringing their porn—I’m gonna bring mine.” Upon checking into the ship I recognized a fellow member of my company from boot camp and so I quickly met all the other sailors and was quickly accepted as part of the crew.
Our first two port calls were in Puerto Vallarta and Cabo San Lucas and were filled with drinking and laughs and brotherhood and I remember having a blast. At around four weeks into the patrol—during a particularly rocky night at sea—my DVD case containing my porn fell out of my rack. I went crazy tearing up the barracks searching for it but never found it… two days later the harassment began. I started to be physically and verbally taunted at every turn by guys who just days earlier were friends. I was attacked in the bathroom after stepping out of the shower—pushed against the wall accompanied by constant threats and innuendos of what might happen to me.
One night while taking the trash out in pitch-black vision I was at the bow of the ship—with the ship swaying heavily from the high seas—when I turned around and could only six bright cigarette cherries right in front of my face. A voice spoke out “you know queer—you could get thrown overboard and no one would know or care.”
It was at that moment that I realized my life was in actual jeopardy. I found a way to detach myself from the reality of the situation in an attempt to simply make it through those last few weeks but about two days before returning home I had a nervous breakdown and fell in to a catatonic-like state. We got back to San Diego and I drove to Monrovia still in this detached state. I got home and opened the door and there was Mr. Iowa—standing in the middle of the room under a banner that said welcome home with a red rose in his hand and a huge smile on his face. At that moment I snapped back in to the present realizing I was home and safe and wrapped my arms around him and began to cry.
DARK DEPRESSION
Things for me would be different after that. I fell into a deep depression and had no one to confide in about it. One day while acting as the active supervisor on duty at the base a wave of empowerment came across me. I threw my clipboard down and stormed out of the kitchen. I marched across the base into the main headquarters walking past the captain’s secretary as she screamed “You can’t go in there!!!” I pushed open the large wooden doors to the Captain’s office walking straight up to his desk and said “I’m gay sir , I have a partner that I love and I no longer wish to hide it, what happens now?” He explained to me that I would be discharged under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” for “Homosexual Admission.” Two short months later, after four years of service, I was discharged.
After being discharged my life began to quickly fall apart. I was in a dark depression. I began to neglect my partner, my life, everything.
I petitioned the Coast Guard to investigate what happened to me during that patrol and—in a surprise ruling—the Coast Guard found my accounts of the event to be true. I was awarded a lifelong pension and diagnosed with PTSD.
ISOLATION & DESPAIR
Over the next few years I could not seem to hold a job and just lived on disability. One day, while I was out of the house, after a huge fight, Mr. Iowa packed his things and left, cutting off contact completely, ending our 6-year relationship. I would soon find crystal meth—that seemed to be the only thing that could take away the pain of it all.
I found myself living in a world of isolation and despair, heavily into crystal meth for almost 3 solid years… I relished in my self-pity and addiction. At one point—after living in my car for a week—in 110-degree heat—a horrible blistering heat rash covered my entire body. It was at this time I knew I had to act and I checked myself into rehab.
BEING OF SERVICE
This brings me to current day. After completing my treatment I now see my role in my addiction and my choices. How I let my fears of being gay and judgment cloud my every thought. And I have learned to develop skills to deal with all the trauma I’ve endured.
I am learning how to love myself first and be okay with just me. Finding faith in my path and a higher power and that I am deserving of god bringing into my life what he wishes me to have. Until then I will simply stay sober, stay strong, and work on being of service to others—and hopefully—become a vocal advocate for Gay and Lesbian veterans discharged under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” I believe there needs to be an awareness to the devastation that “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” caused in many lives—and not just the lives of the veterans—but their loved ones as well. More than 300,000 military members where discharged under this law and many of them suffering from some form of PTSD or depression. We served and fought for our country and we deserve not to be forgotten.