Our Time marks the end of more than a decade of silence, giving voice to the LGBT men and women who served under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” These individuals enlisted knowing that the military would ask them to bury an integral part of themselves and yet joined because of their deep belief that the values of the military were worth the tremendous sacrifice. Our Time shares their stories for the first time, revealing an intimate portrait of military life. Edited by air force officer Josh Seefried, a cofounder of the LGBT active duty military association OutServe, Our Time is a collection of remarkable depth and diversity. We witness the abuse—physical and mental—endured at the hands of fellow soldiers and superiors. We see the hardships faced by their families and partners and feel the pain of the choice between military and self. There are also examples of humanity at its very best: leaders with the courage to support their comrades in the face of tremendous pressure, friendships forged and minds opened, and love that endures the very toughest of odds. Throughout we are reminded of the bravery and selflessness of the men and women who chose to serve our country and defend our liberties while their own freedom was withheld. At once a testament to the wrongs of the policy and a celebration of the good that endured in spite of it, Our Time marks the start of a new era in our national history

As a candidate in 2008, Barack Obama distanced himself from same-sex marriage, saying he believed marriage was “a sacred union” between a man and a woman. In 2012, he did just the opposite, proclaiming it was “important” for him to affirm the right of same-sex couples to marry. This dramatic about-face put the most powerful man in the world at the front of the battle for gay rights, giving LGBT Americans and their advocates an invaluable ally in their struggle for freedom. Just one year later, the Supreme Court would strike down key provisions of the Defense of Marriage Act, and no Democratic presidential nominee would ever again shun marriage equality. As former Advocate journalist Kerry Eleveld shows, Obama's support transformed the issue of gay rights from a political liability into an electoral imperative, and in Don't Tell Me to Wait she offers a boots-on-the-ground account of how gay rights activists pushed the president to this political tipping point. Obama's “evolution” on marriage equality was not the result of a benevolent politician who entered the Oval Office with a wealth of good intentions. Rather, pressure from lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender activists changed the conversation, issue by issue. As a result of the protests and outcry following the passage of California's same-sex marriage ban, Obama realized that overturning the military's “Don't Ask, Don't Tell” policy was the one 2008 campaign promise he couldn't ignore. While pledges to other progressive constituencies fell apart during Obama's first two years in office, the LGBT rights movement protested the administration's fecklessness early and often. By the time the sun set on the 111th Congress, the “Don't Ask, Don't Tell” repeal had become the sole piece of major progressive legislation to become law. The repeal's overwhelming success and popularity paved the way for other LGBT advances, including the president's eventual embrace of the freedom to marry. With unprecedented access and unparalleled insights into this hot-button issue, Don't Tell Me to Wait captures a critical moment in LGBT history and demonstrates the power of activism to change the course of a presidency—and a nation.

Conservatives and liberals agree that President Bill Clinton's effort to lift the military's gay ban was perhaps one of the greatest blunders of his tenure in office. In this text, experts of both persuasions come together to debate the critical aspects of the gays-in-the-military issue.

During World War II, as the United States called on its citizens to serve in unprecedented numbers, the presence of gay Americans in the armed forces increasingly conflicted with the expanding antihomosexual policies and procedures of the military. In Coming Out Under Fire, Allan Berube examines in depth and detail these social and political confrontation--not as a story of how the military victimized homosexuals, but as a story of how a dynamic power relationship developed between gay citizens and their government, transforming them both. Drawing on GIs' wartime letters, extensive interviews with gay veterans, and declassified military documents, Berube thoughtfully constructs a startling history of the two wars gay military men and women fough--one for America and another as homosexuals within the military. Berube's book, the inspiration for the 1995 Peabody Award-winning documentary film of the same name, has become a classic since it was published in 1990, just three years prior to the controversial "don't ask, don't tell" policy, which has continued to serve as an uneasy compromise between gays and the military. With a new foreword by historians John D'Emilio and Estelle B. Freedman, this book remains a valuable contribution to the history of World War II, as well as to the ongoing debate regarding the role of gays in the U.S. military.

Stay up all night with this modern day Rebecca! Perfect for fans of Truly Devious--a haunting story about a new girl in an old town filled with dark secrets . . . that might just kill her. People say the house is cursed. It preys on the weakest, and young women are its favorite victims. In Louth, they're called the Dead Girls. All Bram wanted was to disappear--from her old life, her family's past, and from the scandal that continues to haunt her. The only place left to go is Louth, the tiny town on the Hudson River where her uncle, James, has been renovating an old mansion. But James is haunted by his own ghosts. Months earlier, his beloved wife died in a fire that people say was set by her daughter. The tragedy left James a shell of the man Bram knew--and destroyed half the house he'd so lovingly restored. The manor is creepy, and so are the locals. The people of Louth don't want outsiders like Bram in their town, and with each passing day she's discovering that the rumors they spread are just as disturbing as the secrets they hide. Most frightening of all are the legends they tell about the Dead Girls. Girls whose lives were cut short in the very house Bram now calls home. The terrifying reality is that the Dead Girls may have never left the manor. And if Bram looks too hard into the town's haunted past, she might not either.