Coming out proves costly for ROTC cadet

CHAPEL HILL, N.C. — Though she's long wanted to be an Army doctor, Sara Isaacson says she also wants to live an honest life. So on Jan. 25, the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill ROTC cadet handed her commander a written statement revealing that she is a lesbian.

Doing so ended her military career and will likely cost her more than $79,000. That's what she owes the federal government, which was paying for her schooling — at out-of-state rates — while the Wisconsin native went through her military training.

"I've dreamed since I was 13 of a career as a military officer," Isaacson said last week. "But I knew I wouldn't be OK with myself if I had to lie every day."

Since outing herself, the 21-year-old has become a fresh face in the national movement that opposes the "don't ask, don't tell" law, which mandates the dismissal of openly gay, lesbian or bisexual members of the military.

Isaacson has been to Washington twice to lobby members of Congress, and a national group that provides legal counsel to service members is using her story to condemn the law.

Isaacson realized last fall that she is a lesbian. There was no moment of epiphany, just a slow light turning on to finally provide her some clarity. She was in her seventh semester at UNC-CH, a senior enjoying her ROTC leadership role.

If she had stayed quiet, she would have graduated this year and been commissioned — an ambition she's held since hearing stories from her grandfather, an Army doctor in post-World War II Okinawa, Japan.

Although the don't ask, don't tell rule prohibits the military from asking service members about their sexuality, it also mandates that gays not make their orientation public. Isaacson said the law would have forced her to evade questions or situations or even to lie about them. For example, she couldn't list a partner as next of kin on official documentation, she said.

Although Isaacson believed she was straight until last year, in high school in suburban Milwaukee, she was involved in the distribution of a controversial "Heterosexual Questionnaire." It asked students questions like "When did you decide you were a heterosexual?" according to a local news report at the time.

Drawn by a strong undergraduate sciences program, Isaacson chose UNC-CH over the U.S. Military Academy at West Point and Northwestern University. She was among the top five students in a high-school class of 215.

Along with her ROTC classes and early-morning workouts three days a week, the chemistry major has been a resident assistant, worked with a sexual-assault prevention group and played the piccolo in the marching band.

She does not have a partner.

In his first State of the Union Address, Obama announced his desire to repeal don't ask, don't tell, and the Pentagon began a yearlong study of the ramifications. Nearly 200 members of the U.S. House of Representatives have signed onto a bill that would repeal the law.

Administration officials now expect Congress to move ahead this week even though advocates on both sides say it's not clear there are enough votes to lift the 1993 ban.

Under a proposal emerging from talks at the White House, Congress would remove the Clinton-era don't ask, don't tell law even as the Pentagon continues an ongoing review of the system. Implementation of policy for gays serving openly would still require the approval of Obama, Defense Secretary Robert Gates and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Adm. Mike Mullen. How long implementation might take was not known.

Activists met at the White House on Monday with administration officials who are trying to broker a compromise.

Since 1994, about 13,500 members of the military have been dismissed under the policy, according to the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network, the Washington-based organization that has used Isaacson's story in its fight for repeal of the policy.

Though the financial implications are jarring, Isaacson said she isn't trying to get out of the repayment.

Her case is now being considered by Cadet Command, the military office that runs ROTC programs nationwide. There, someone will decide how she'll repay the $79,265.14 that the government has spent on her education.

The terms of Isaacson's deal with the military are clear, said Mike Johnson, a Cadet Command spokesman.

"To accept the scholarship, the kid signs a contract and agrees to serve X years in the U.S. Army," he said.

Even after coming out, Isaacson had a chance to get back into the Army's good graces.

"A lot of college students are still trying to figure out what they want to do with their lives," said her commander, Lt. Col. Monte Yoder, who directs the ROTC program at UNC-CH. "I asked her if she wanted to withdraw her letter. But she clearly wanted not to be involved in the military at all."

Isaacson said she does want to serve, if the Army will accept her as she is.

Isaacson now needs a fifth year at UNC-CH — and some financial aid — to get her degree. Medical school is still an option, but she's also become interested in activism. Her father, Ken Isaacson, has spent a lot of time brainstorming solutions.

"It's disappointing that our country doesn't want her," he said. "But she will find some way to make her mark."