By Beth F. Coye
The motivating factor behind my life has been protection and defense of America from all enemies. My dad, a World War II-decorated submarine skipper, instilled in our family that duty was above all else. So, it was no surprise to anyone that my adult career was spent as a naval officer, retiring as a commanding officer in San Diego, my birthplace.
I loved the Navy, I loved that we had a serious mission to protect and serve our country. I had always been so focused that the military’s raison d’etre was to protect against the enemy from without that it took me years to unravel that the military’s perception was that certain people were unfit to serve this mission, and I turned out to be one of those people. What surprised me even more was the basis for that prejudice: It was not combat readiness, or unit cohesion or morale. Instead, it was typical bias and prejudice largely within a good-old-boy network that fought to keep women in subordinate, supportive roles, rarely in leadership roles.
What was added to this gender prejudice was that the Navy did not want me because of whom I loved. What it forced upon millions of gays and lesbians who served admirably was to hide and live a lie while laying down their lives for the protection of the very people who did not want us to serve. What military policy reinforced was years of witch hunts, where leaders who wanted to get rid of gay and lesbian military people would put a tail on them so they could prove they were gay, and then be dishonorably discharged.
In Nazi Germany, people were encouraged to spy on others, to turn their fellow citizens in for being Jewish or for being suspected of being Jewish. It was an abominable policy to carry out something similar in the U.S. military and certainly had an impact on my career. My last superior had put a tail on me. My integrity rose up and said, “No more. I want to be free.”
So now, in my 80s, I reflect on my life. I was privileged to go to an elite women’s college where I did OK among many stars. In postgraduate school, I graduated first among 37 top naval officers. That honor should have allowed me first choice of any available job I wanted. That was not the case: The Naval Academy told me to grow gray hair so I wouldn’t be so attractive. The Pentagon said I would not get the job I wanted because the chief of naval operations desired the freedom to swear like a sailor and not be inhibited by the presence of a woman briefer.
Although I paid a price in terms of the gender discrimination I experienced and endured, I wrote The Coye Study in 1970-71, sponsored by the chief of naval personnel. I fought the good fight, as dad had taught me. The study dramatically impacted women who were to follow me. Today, women can serve at sea, fly planes, be admirals and be the head of major commands in all military branches. And as of 2011, gays and lesbians can serve openly.
I would have loved to have had the opportunity to retire, as my dad did, as an admiral. When I retired, few women admirals served, and we were still governed by the pre-”Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. The Navy no longer offered a place for my soul.
What I have in my mid-80s is the joy that I tackled the deep prejudices against military women and gays and made a difference. After retirement, I not only came out, I authored a book, “My Navy Too,” parts of which were turned into a play. The Coye Report was used for years to update Navy women’s policies.
In my lifetime I left the Navy a better, safer place for women to flourish and for gay service members to serve with dignity. That knowledge gives my own struggles a perspective from which I draw comfort. I likely made more of a difference fighting from within, and speaking and writing from without, than I would have made with just my own personal achievements.
I look at the world today and hope everyone who loves the democracy in which we have been privileged to live will fight the good fight, and not let the forces of hate and prejudice lead America down the disastrous path of fascism. It is way beyond what party with which you identify; it is the great experiment we have created, with so many benefits. Our experiment is seriously on the line now. Join me in the fight that I fought as a naval officer and that I now fight as an elder. Fight for freedom, equality, and the Constitution to guide us. We must win.
Coye is a retired U.S. Navy commander, a Wellesley graduate and a retired adjunct professor. She taught international relations at the Naval War College and political science at Mesa Community College, University of San Diego and San Diego State. She lives in Pacific Beach.