“SHOUT: Sharing Our Truth: An Anthology of Writings by LGBT Veterans and Family Members of the U.S. Military Services”

MAMF Special Projects Writer Caroline LeBlanc is seeking stories for:

SHOUT: Sharing Our Truth: An Anthology of Writings by LGBT Veterans and Family Members of the U.S. Military Services”

This anthology seeks first-hand experiences—good, bad, and in between—as an LGBT veteran or family member, during and/or after military service. Our goal is to create a book that will allow you to tell parts of your story that will also be helpful for others to read—others who live or want to understand the LGBT veteran experience. The last chapter of the book will list resources available to LGBT veterans.

Do not submit any materials previously published in print or online. Identifying information should be included in the body of the email only.

What Genres to Submit:

Fiction: up to 1200 words.

Non-Fiction (memoir, essays, and other non-fiction): up to 1200 words

Poetry: up to 40 lines.

Reviews: up to 1200 words about a movie, book, music, etc. that you think are important for others to know about.

Resources: submit information on resources you have found particularly helpful. (Name, webpage, telephone number, and services)

 You may submit up to 2 pieces in each genre. Each piece must be attached in a separate file. All pieces in a given category must be submitted in the same email. Pieces in separate categories must be submitted in separate emails.

Submissions are accepted between March 20 and June 20, 2016. For more information or for guidelines on how to submit, please visit:

 our projects website





Join us on March 27, 2015

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Between Stops

a poem by Hudson Phillips about growing up in the Military.

I lurch from side to side carried forward

by the force that I have grasped,

Does it have a face?

I am bonded to the flow of strangers,

circuited to an energy

of destinations,

all drawn


hands placed

close enough to show the differences,

some tired and turgid, telling of their toil,

and others marked by manicured and selfish haste Read the rest of this entry »

“I’m a Brat!”

B orn to a person of honor who fought to defend our flag

R aised in a household which revolved around all that.

A mid all the sacrifices, I thrived and lived my life

T hrough deployments and transfers, our nation’s struggles and our strife.

S trong and happy and thankful until this very day

I’m a BRAT, I will always be…

a BRAT I’ll always stay.

B rats born into the military,

R aised to Reveille!

A merica the Beautiful! Our Country Tis of Thee!

T aps played at sundown, with our hands upon our hearts,

S olid and steady, never to depart.

I’m a BRAT, I will always be…

A BRAT I’ll always stay.

Our country has it’s freedom and our parents played a part.

B eing always transferred from sea to shining sea

R emoved from friends to meet some more, anxious for what would be.

A nd settling in and settling down at our new home ground,

T here’s new opportunities, new friends to be found.

S o life goes on and life goes ’round, and still I always say,

I’m a BRAT, I will always be…

A BRAT I’ll always stay!

B lown just like a dandelion, dancing in the wind,

R elocated to almost anywhere for our freedom to defend.

A ware of the sacrifices made by all our fathers and their wives,

T ogether building family and the memories of our lives.

S erving our country in the States and overseas.

I’m a BRAT, I will always be…

A BRAT I’ll always be!

B ringing up my own children, I tell them all the tales,

R emembering our journey, of fighter jets and ships that sailed.

A mid all the danger, we played, we lived, we grew.

T hankful for God’s mercy and the lifestyle that we knew.

S hould anyone ask me, “Where do you call your home?”

I answer with pride, “The world has been my playground, this whole country

that I’ve known.”

         N avy,

         A rmy,

         M arines,

         E nlisted men and our leaders, too,

         R eal heroes, and yet, our parents,

         I n service to our country and defending me and you.

         C oast Guard and the

         A ir Force. Everywhere the eagle flew!


I’m a BRAT, I will always be…

A BRAT I’ll always stay.

Thankful for our comraderie!


Copyright Vicki Pitman Brady, Nov. 11, 2014



I look at my children seated at the table

Their solemn eyes anticipating

As I scoop mashed potatoes I say

“Daddy is having Thanksgiving somewhere else this year…”

…It’s the fourth year I’ve said that

If I were your CIC

by Elisabeth Sacco

If I were your C I C…

Every uniform would be on American soil.

I’d greet you all on the White House lawn.

“Welcome Home, we need you here.

Visit your family and friends.

Stay here, we need you.”

If I were your C I C…

I’d keep you all working feeding kids in America,

building roads and schools

passing out food and school supplies 
in the hoods and barrios of my broken cities.

Giving medical treatment to those who cannot afford it,

guarding my streets and breaking up the fire fights 
that are consuming the lives of our young and old alike

If I were your C I C…

I’d have you protect our borders and run through our jails

I’d even allow you to smack in the head

hose who step on our flag or dishonor our military dead

Alas, I am not the President

I am simply an American.

I love the liberties and responsibilities handed to me

simply because I am an American.

I thank you for that. 
I thank you for being braver than I.

I thank you for defending. I thank you for ensuring.

Welcome home or Hurry home –

May you know that I am grateful on this Veteran’s Day for you.

let old glory wave, let us remember our own, and please enjoy this day

for YOU have made this country free.

YOU are my hero


Braving the Storm: Northhampton VA Hospital

Until the blizzard hits on the Mass Pike,

the four hour drive north to visit you goes well

Packed in the VW, the kids and I play games,

vote to continue to brave the storm

Remove your watch. Place your house keys,wallet and comb on the desk. Sit. Unwind.


I’ll say the coaches asked for you at the awards

banquet , won’t mention that the boys punching upset the trophy table before dinner was served.

You’ll see them play next winter.

Place your clothes in the sack. Put on paper slippers. Hand over your car keys. Keep the coins.


Don’t have money to buy our daughter a prom corsage,

to dryclean your sister’s borrowed gown

and lacy shawl. Sandals won’t show

in the photos your mother will send you.

Lock your belt and laces with your meds and shoes. Pee now.


West of Worcester the storm worsens,

the frightened the kids and I guess

the meaning of good tours, war-games, outward bound, locked wards.

 Remove your dog tag flashbacks. Tuck them with your nightmares under your pillow. About face.

Jacqueline Murray Loring


This poem was featured in the Museum’s 2014 exhibit: Sacrifice & Service: The American Military Family

Read more about the author here.