Ding, dong, DADT is dead!

Military Ball

It’s that time of year. And I don’t mean the time of year when tinny, annoying songs are blasted into your ears — I mean military ball.

I think military ball is one of the greatest issues facing armed services queerkind.

First of all, queers love a ball. Anything that we can get all dressed up for, we’re all about. We love anything with strict etiquette and conventions — because it’s in those contexts that we can be at our most fabulous. Like this:

In short, gays love a costume. I think Alice summed it up best:

I really miss shopping for and wearing ball gowns so DADT needs to go now.

Balls and proms have long been a battleground for equality. Constance McMillen is the most recently lauded combatant in this ongoing struggle, but talk to any roomful of homos and you’ll hear stories about proms and military balls. For many, proms and balls have been seminal moments in the coming out process. It was the first time they wore a tux or a ball gown, and they were petrified of what everyone was gonna say but elated to be that out.

When I was straight (because I once was), I didn’t care about formal occasions. They epitomized a system of gender binary that I wanted nothing to do with. I only donned a formal dress twice in my life, both times at the request of a woman I cared about.

Alright, maybe I wasn’t that straight.

But now, military ball is one of those things that I look forward to crashing – along with officers’ wives clubs. But that’s a whole different post.

I am going to military ball this year with a male friend. We’re both going to oblige our friends, who are going together (on a sort-of-not-really date).

It should be fun. But every time I think of wearing a dress and having a man come pick me up and hold me daintily by the hand, I get a little nauseous.

That’s totally not how Captain Awesome and I are gonna roll when it’s our turn.

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