The question took me a bit by surprise. My friend supports repealing the policy, and is in fact supportive on the full range of LGBT equality issues, but he just didn’t understand why it would be so important to me, as someone who does not and has no intention of serving in the military. If it doesn’t directly affect me, why should I care?

I gave my friend the party line answers about an injustice to one being and injustice to all. I told him how it was important for the community to stand united in our collective struggle even when a given issue may not have direct relevance to every person’s life. He seemed to accept my answer, and we dropped the subject. I knew I didn’t need to convince him of the fact that every American deserves equal treatment under the law, but somehow the question stuck with me and has bothered me ever since.

As I reflect on our conversation today, in light of the impending legislative repeal of DADT, I keep coming back to the emotions I had 17 years ago when the policy was initially passed. In 1993, I was a Junior in High School, and I had only told a few close friends and trusted family members that I was gay. Even then I had no desire to join the military, but the idea that I could not do so without committing to hide my identity was something that left me feeling somehow ashamed. The entire debate surrounding the ban on gays in the military was offensive on its face. The idea that I somehow couldn’t be trusted to be in close quarters with other men was hurtful. Even though I had no plans to enlist in the military, knowing that I was not welcome there put a tiny but perceptible chink in my self-esteem.

I have, of course, grown to be a man who lives openly and honestly with the world. I work in the macho world of the oilfield industry and my colleagues and associates all know me and my partner. Never has my orientation been an issue for anyone as far I have known. So, in one sense, DADT has not impeded my growth as a human being. But the initial passage of the policy was a punch in the gut to me as a 17 year old boy.

Today, a new generation of young gay kids is coming along and, just as one of my early formative experiences as a gay person involved being told what I could not do, these young people will have the experience of told what they can do.

DADT repeal is going to the President’s desk for his signature. I am taking a moment today to remember all those brave American’s who have served in silence in every war from the Revolution through Iraq and Afghanistan. I thank them for their courage and their sacrifice. They are heroes in my eyes

Watching it tonight, I was inspired to discover my new rapper name: Think Nasty.

Don’t watch if you get easily offended.

I laughed.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. He started to explain that he thought I was closed off to him, I hadn’t been friendly enough with him, or called him, or invited him over to my house. He felt I had tried to keep him at arm’s length.

I was startled listening to him, because I really didn’t think I had treated him that way. I really sort of liked working with the guy, and I miss working with him now. I don’t call him because, well, I don’t really call anyone. I work. I go home. I sleep. This is my life.

As I talked to my old friend, I remembered a conversation I had with a subordinate at work just a few days. This employee had the sense that I didn’t like him — specifically that I didn’t like talking to him. Of course, this just isn’t the way I feel.

I’m frustrated that the people around me misinterpret my attitudes, but this has always been the case. People have many perceptions of me. At times I come off as weak or fragile. Sometimes I seem sad and withdrawn. Sometimes I just seem bitchy and mean.

The truth is, I am none of these things. Or maybe, in fairness, I am all of these things. I am, however, not JUST these things.

Often I am quiet, not because I have nothing to say, but because I am not sure it is okay to say it. I am shy, not out of a desire to be unsociable, but out of an insecurity about my own social skills.

I say this, not to elicit sympathy. The truth is, I am happy with my life. I enjoy the fact that I have a circle of friends that reaches out to me to engage my interaction. When there is no one there reaching out, however, I take solace in the solitude. I have in my life learned to know and appreciate the fullness of life. I wish the world could know and appreciate the fullness of me.

So, to those of you who know me: I don’t hate you, I am just me. Forgive me for what I am not. Love me for what I am.

Amanpour starts in August. This is the first promo for the revamped program, which will no doubt have more of an international focus, reflecting Amanpour’s interests and expertise.