Allen R. Schindler Jr was a radioman in the US Navy who enlisted shortly after high school in ‘88. On this day in 1992, he was beaten to death by two of his shipmates for being gay. Although I never met him, this is a thread about his life and how he greatly impacted mine.

Allen was raised in Chicago Heights, Illinois. He came from a Navy family, his grandfather serving during WWII. Schindler wrestled with his sexuality before eventually coming out to his mother who simply thought he was confused. That ambiguity remained until his death.

Allen’s Navy career was bittersweet. While he loved his job, the military at the time had a zero tolerance policy for homosexuals. Unable to live as if he were ashamed, he disclosed his sexuality to his command through a prank that earned him non-judicial punishment.

Word eventually spread around about Allen being gay. As a result, he faced constant verbal and physical abuse- even as he was preparing for discharge. While stationed in Sasebo, Japan, the harassment reached a climax in the form of a horrific hate crime.

On October 27, 1992 while on liberty, Allen was cornered in a bathroom and beaten to death by two shipmates from his own command (men not worth naming). The attack was so vicious and left his body so unbelievably mangled, a close casket funeral was recommended.

Allen’s mother, Dorothy Hajdys, was never given the complete details surrounding her son’s murder. She was only told that an altercation took place resulting in his death. She was never given a reason. She was also never informed of the harrassment Allen endured for being gay.

It took a reporter from the @starsandstripes investigating Allen’s murder for the truth to finally come out. After the news broke, major LGBT rights organizations rallied and offered Dorothy support. 6 months after Allen’s death, she was in Washington marching for gay rights.

Like Allen, I struggled with my sexuality. I was raised in a religious household, actively participated in church, and learned to hate myself before even knowing myself. I too left for the Navy shortly after high school. Unlike Allen, I never spoke to my mom about my “demons”.

While at my first duty station in Okinawa, years of anxiety, and depression led to me breaking up with my longtime girlfriend. It would take another few months before I gained the courage to come out to my mom.

I decided to tell her as I was ramping up for a CASEVAC deployment to Iraq. As dramatic as this sounds, I didn’t want to die without my family knowing who I am. After a few drinks, I called and finally told her. My confession was met with silence.

My mom then awkwardly ended the conversation. A few months passed where she refused to speak to me without directly acknowledging that was her intent. Outside of emails containing bible passages, there was radio silence. I eventually accepted that I lost my mother.

The relief I sought from coming out became my worst nightmare. My mom was my world. Although I reconciled with the idea I’d never speak to or see her again, I was still devastated and depressed. I eventually deployed but to Pakistan instead of Iraq. Still no word.

A few months after we returned to Oki, I received an email from my her not containing a bible verse but instead an almost sterile request for a call. My heart broke. Although she’d cut off communication, it was still unofficial. I was worried my disownment would become formal.

Nervously, I picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey, Mom, it’s me.” She immediately began sobbing and apologizing for the way she treated me over the last year. She asked for my forgiveness, and through tears I quickly accepted. I had my mom back.

Weeks after our reconciliation, I finally asked what changed her mind. It was something I wondered about. Her answer: Allen Schindler. I had no clue who she was talking about. She went on to tell me about a movie she caught on Lifetime called “Any Mother’s Son”.

The movie was about Allen’s death, and his mother’s journey towards the truth. The striking parellels deeply resonated with her. We were both in the Navy, both in Japan, and both gay. His death also occurred within a week of my birthday.

That movie, and Allen and Dorothy’s story helped open my mom’s eyes. She did not want to lose me, and decided the only alternative was complete acceptance. Allen was the catalyst. We went on to have an even stronger relationship than before.

4 years later after passing out at work, doctors discovered my mom had a brain tumor. That tumor eventually progressed to brain cancer. She passed away 2 years later.

Although our time together was short lived, I’m grateful for the 6 years we had together where I lived authentically with her unconditional love and complete acceptance. I will be forever grateful to Allen and his mother Dorothy for the roles they played in our lives.

If you’re interested in learning more about Allen’s story, this is a pretty comprehensive account: https://classic.esquire.com/article/1993/12/1/the-accidental-martyr