Frustrated with his lived experiences of racism, homophobia, and sexual assault while serving in the U.S. Army, and surviving a subsequent suicide attempt following the end of his enlistment, Richard Brookshire co-founded Black Veterans Project (BVP).  

BVP is a nonprofit organization deploying a restorative justice strategy, leveraging research-backed narrative storytelling, political advocacy, and impact litigation to combat the legacy of racial discrimination limiting access to benefits experienced by Black veterans and their families.

Being raised in a military family, Richard never thought he’d enlist. But, after two years of college at Morehouse and Florida A&M University, respectively, he knew serving in the Army would help pay for college. Like many, upward mobility was his primary focus. Richard had also had an internship with Barack Obama’s presidential campaign and felt inspired to serve under the First Black President.

As a visionary and storyteller, Brookshire and his co-founders have expanded BVP’s footprint over the last seven years by establishing institutional partnerships with Yale and Harvard Law Schools to advance the case for reparative justice. The organization has played a critical role in advancing Monk v United States, a landmark case and class action lawsuit alleging systemic racism in benefit allocation across the Department of Veterans Affairs since the inception of the GI Bill in the 1940s.

Richard moved from New York City to Washington, D.C. in 2023 and currently leads BVP full-time as its co-CEO, leveraging his experience in political communications and public policy, and his wealth of knowledge in building impactful narrative campaigns to advance racial equity and repair for the Black veteran community.

MaCherie Dunbar: Were you out when you were serving in the military?

Richard Brookshire: I came out officially when I was 16, so I’d been comfortable in my sexuality and my personhood up until the point I decided to enlist in the military in May of 2009. When I went off to basic training, I went back into the closet. I understood that would be required of me, but I wanted the benefits of service and had a strong desire to serve under President Barack Obama.

I couldn’t be open about my sexuality for my first two years in the Army because of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. I remember the policy being repealed on my birthday while deployed to Afghanistan in 2011. Prior to deploying, I did come out to my direct supervisors and some of the folks I worked with, but otherwise I wasn’t really out.

MD: As a gay man, what was the climate like when you served?

RB: The military was a very homophobic environment, very homogenous in general.

I think people suspected that I was gay, so they targeted me more for different kinds of harassment. I was in an infantry unit, and I was sexually assaulted within my first six months of being at my first duty station in Germany.

They saw my light, I guess my softness in some way, even though I was really good at my job and I excelled physically. They wanted to break that, so they tried everything they could for about nine months to do that, and it all kind of culminated with me having a big blowup.

After that blowup, everyone pretty much stopped messing with me. I think maybe that’s what the NCOs wanted in some twisted way [for me to prove my manhood].

It was a very traumatic year, the buildup to getting ready to go to Afghanistan. But then after that, I think my sexuality wasn’t as much of a conversation.

MD: I know any level of trauma isn’t easy to express, but especially what you’ve experienced, so thank you for sharing this with us, and for your vulnerability.

How was your experience of being Black in the military?

RB: I think about going to two HBCUs, and then interning for the Obama campaign, and what that did for me as a young Black man.

Very swiftly after joining the Army, I found myself stationed on a former Nazi base in a pretty much all white infantry unit. There were a few other Black folks I served with, I think three others in my unit specifically, other medics. Maybe 20 or so Black folks in my broader unit or battalion, but it was mostly white.

I remember young men bringing [Hitler’s] Mein Kampf to work, and there were quite a few folks whose ancestors were German, so they’d talk about when they served under Adolf Hitler. It was weird. I’ve always been very apt at engaging with prejudice or ignorance. If someone said something ignorant, I wouldn’t just let it slide; I’d confront them, and there’d be some kind of altercation. That was exhausting.

MD: Were there any other people you were able to be in community with who were able to support you or just make the process a little bit gentler?

RB: Yeah, there was a very straight white man, an NCO from my medical unit. He kind of took me under his wing and protected me a lot since I was picked on by the older NCOs. They targeted me for different reasons; I suspected it was because I was gay, but certainly because I was not white. He was PCSing, so I really only had him for four or five months, then I was on my own for a while.

Right before I got to Afghanistan, I met an NCO named Anthony, a Black queer man. He wasn’t in the medical unit, but we’d have lunch and talk. We didn’t become the best of friends, but it was great to see a Black queer man who was making their way up in the military, who commanded respect from people. He wasn’t out, but you know, family can recognize family.

When I was in Afghanistan, just after Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed, a medical NCO joined our unit. He was gay and Samoan. We became friends for a time. I think of him being queer and in uniform, and also very good at his job, and commanding respect. He was great. I got a lot out of serving alongside him.

MD: I’m glad to hear you were able to find some community to help navigate treacherous waters. Some of the things we’ve had to go through as a community are beyond egregious. Now here we are, trying to make it through each day after that.

What was your biggest challenge during your transition from military service?

RB: Probably relatability, having been in the military and going to Afghanistan, to the folks I was spending the vast majority of my time with. In many respects, I was detached from the everyday of being a young person and suddenly thrown back into it.

I had a lot of friends in NYC already, and my family is there. But nobody really understood what it was like to be away for four years from your family, your friends, your goals; to then just be sort of plopped back into society.

Probably second to that, I had to finish out my time in the National Guard, and I found that to be difficult. I didn’t know my contract said I had to join the National Guard; I thought I was supposed only to do active duty for four years, then go into inactive reserve. Then, a few months before I got out, they said no, your contract said you have to join the Guard. I was like, what?

That was actually more difficult because I was so much looking forward to casting off the uniform and finding myself again. Having to find this balance between still wearing the uniform and shaving and even cutting my hair, there was no real level of exploration for me.

Having to marry that with going through school and being in my first real adult relationship and navigating my life and figuring out who I was in the middle of NYC – in the balance of those things, I felt like I wasn’t completely free to find myself because I had this obligation [to the Army].

This bifurcation of identity was even more exacerbated during that time. At least when I was on active duty, I was away in Germany, and I wasn’t around my friends. I had one singular identity in my everyday life. Then the next thing you know, I’m in the National Guard and in this season of my life where I’m supposed to be trying to find myself and who I was, and I’m still having to hold onto something that wasn’t quite me and had to conform around to finish my time. It was quite challenging.

MD: Did you feel like, even though Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had been repealed, you still had to hide your identity as a gay man?

RB: I served with a really great unit in New York, and I didn’t think there was really a need to hide. I think I’d just been conditioned at that point to keep my business to myself and not make it a topic of conversation.

Because I was an NCO at that point, the vast majority of folks I was engaging with for the most part were older NCOs or officers, and they were more used to the way things were before. There were certainly homophobic moments and inappropriate things that happened, and some of the rhetoric was definitely still hostile.

I do remember toward the end of my time in the service, there being young queer people who all they knew was their ability to be out in uniform. There was a certain level of comfort they had in being who they were that I looked at and was like wow, the military is changing. In a good way, in a positive way.

MD: Since coming to DC, do you think it’s kind of disjointed between the two, or do you find it easy to connect with other Black queer veterans?

RB: When I look at the breadth of the work that I’ve done, specifically in DC and the communities I navigate through, I’ve always found a lot of comfort in the Black queer community, specifically the Black gay community.

I think that in starting Black Veterans Project, the people who ended up gravitating toward this work happened to be other Black queer people. But the vast majority of [Black queer] people I’ve encountered don’t have any tie to service.

The folks I engage with in DC, who are veterans in and around advocacy, tend to be older, straight, and on the officer side of service.

So, I’d say no, those worlds have not touched each other outside of maybe the small ecosystem that I’ve built within the Black Veterans Project, which is maybe a dozen, or a few dozen, folks who are Black queer veterans.

MD: Do you think there’s something the District itself could do differently to help bring this intersectional community together?

RB: When I think about veteran organizing, they are certainly very white, very homogenous spaces. There are a lot of queer white people that I find in this space, but even still, Blackness is othered.

I’m hesitant about over-indexing what the DC government can do, given we have the Trump Administration and what may be happening with Home Rule and the ways in which they may gut some of the things that exist now.

And what does that mean for how we form community in ways the government can’t touch or infiltrate? How do we resource that? All very important questions.

MD: You're absolutely right, there’s a threat that the Offices within the government that might be able to support our community are largely at risk of going away.

RB: Yeah, I mean, I look at what’s happening at the VA just in the last six months. Especially these offices that existed – some of which were newer under the Biden administration and making incredible headway for the LGBTQ+ community or the Black community — and the ways in which they’ve been gutted. And specifically, the offices that were focused on outreach to Black vets that have been around since the ‘90s, and the ways they’ve been subverted — there’s a lot happening, and it’s happening so quickly.

Grassroots advocacy organizations haven’t been as coordinated or well-resourced as the larger organizations that seem to be capitulating fairly quickly. We need to figure out how we can build a united front against attacks [on equity] within the VA.

MD: Considering the political climate, what recommendations do you have for anyone LGBTQIA+ who’s currently in uniform?

RB: Everybody should be getting their affairs in order. You should be thinking of what your exit strategy is and what your plan is in case you need to get out of the military. It’s not smart to be blindsided, because all the signs are there – they may be attacking trans service members first, but the fact that gay people will continue to be able to serve openly is not a guarantee.

I think one of the things people don’t understand is that even when Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was in place, the vast majority of queer people who were kicked out weren’t kicked out under that policy. Other (UCMJ) policies were weaponized against them.

Because of this hostile climate, a lot of folks are going to find themselves involved in the UCMJ system, or being targeted in some ways, or have their careers undermined. Figuring out where you can reach out for help or guidance will be important as well.

There’s a whole world outside of the military, and community that is here to support and embrace you. It’s not going to be an easy path, and the more you plan for that possibility, the more you’ll be prepared for whatever might transpire.

MD: That’s a great point, especially about the administrative attacks that occurred during Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, more than separating people specifically for “homosexual conduct.”

What would you say to anyone who’s Black and queer who’s considering joining the military?

RB: I don’t necessarily discourage people from joining the military, because I understand the vast majority of people do it because they need access to opportunity. The military provides a level of access to social mobility and things like healthcare, stable housing, and food, which can be critical for those looking to get themselves out of desperate situations.

However, there hasn’t been an Administration as hostile [to Black and queer service members] probably since the 1960s, and perhaps even as far back as when the military was first integrated in the 1940s. The institutional forces are being given the green light to be openly prejudicial, and some of the attacks being made are very insidious and overt.

I’d recommend those thinking about joining to be very cognizant of what the tradeoff is for your own humanity. Have a clear sense of why you’re joining, hold fast to your why, and plan an exit strategy that will prepare you for anything that might transpire.

MD: That’s great advice. If you could do it all over again, would you, and why or why not?

RB: That’s a hard question. I believe I would do it all over again, though I would do it differently. I think I would have educated myself a lot more about how to traverse the military to make the most out of my time in service. I’d educate myself through mentors I could lean on who could help guide me through my time in service, so I could maximize what I could get out of it.

Those are the things I’d change, but looking back on where I was in life at that moment, and where the country was, I think I’d still join. I learned a lot about myself and the country, for good and bad. But I think my experiences would have been a great deal different if I hadn’t allowed myself to just be thrown into an environment and render myself powerless within it. I didn’t realize my own power and my ability to make critical decisions to be a catalyst for progress, even while still wearing the uniform.

This interview was conducted by MaCherie Dunbar, special issue co-editor and guest contributor, an award-winning advocate, and Black queer veteran residing in Washington, D.C. Make sure to read her personal story in this issue. Emily Starbuck Gerson, this issue's co editor, edited and co wrote this article.