The following are the remarks delivered by Willa Taylor at the City of Chicago's Salute to America's LGBT Veterans July 26 at Daley Plaza. Taylor was a petty officer first class, communications technician, U.S. Navy.
I come before you today a proud veteran of the United States Navy. More than 30 years I ago, I stood with my fellow enlistees and solemnly swore that I would support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America.
I took that oath knowing the troubled racial history of the service I aspired to. The Navy's racial segregation policies limited African Americans' participation in World War I and barred Blacks from enlisting altogether from 1919 to 1932. Yet, I also knew that Black Americans had served this country in every battle and in every war since the beginning of the republic. We were often not allowed to serve fully as citizens of the country we wanted to defend, but that never dimmed the flame of patriotism in us.
It did not stop Dorie Miller, a mess attendant on the battleship USS West Virginia during the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor. Although he had no gunnery training, Miller took charge of an anti-aircraft machine gun when its crew was incapacitated. He shot down several of the 29 enemy planes claimed that day and helped rescue sailors who had jumped or been thrown overboard.
It was Miller's heroics that inspired me to join.
I also come before you today a proud female veteran. When I took the oath to enlist, I knew the troubling history of women in the military. But that sexism never dimmed the flame of patriotism in me or the women I served with.
Beginning with the early pioneers—whose homeland defense was as common as drawing water—there is a long historical precedent for women in war. Though often unable to serve openly, we nevertheless offered ourselves in defense of our country.
And as I took the oath, I remembered the story of Elizabeth Newcume, who—unable to serve openly as a woman—donned male attire and was mustered into military service at Fort Leavenworth in 1847. She served 10 months fighting in the Indian wars until her sex was discovered and she was discharged.
Today, I come before you a proud veteran. And on this day, especially, I remember Army Sgt. First Class Perry Watkins, who served openly and with honor, and whose fight for equality led us to this day.
Watkins, an African American, identified himself as a gay man when he was drafted in 1968 and served openly as a gay man re-enlisting three times before the Army sought his discharge. In 1989, a federal appeals court ordered his reinstatement, in the first ruling by a full appellate panel that struck at the military's ban on gay and lesbian service members.
Watkins' honesty and insistence that he be allowed to serve openly set the stage not only for "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" but for the repeal of it that we celebrate today.
As we stand today on the precipice of a new open military, let us remember that the freedoms we cherish always come with a price. It demands that men and women—gay, and straight, of all races, creeds and colors—be willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice to defend it. These men and women—gay and straight—have volunteered to carry the torch of freedom, to defend this nation and our ideals.
What we mark here today is not just the end of a policy, the end of systemic discrimination. What we memorialize here is the spirit of millions—gay and straight—who sacrificed their own safety and comfort; the spirit of millions who, when called, answered send me, no matter the mission, no matter the risk.
Today, I stand before you a veteran of the United States Navy—filled with the spirit of freedom and honor—and say openly I am a lesbian. I am a veteran—and I am proud to have served my country.
