Written by Joshua Patton

          Jimmy McMillan has been an R&B singer, a private investigator, a postal worker, and an exotic dancer, but no matter what uniform or proverbial “hat” he wears, he does so as a veteran.  “I was trained by the U.S. Army to pay attention,” he tells me and that attention to detail naturally caused him to notice the struggles he and his brother veterans faced.  This led him to activism, fighting the Department of Veteran Affairs and the National Academy of Sciences about the effects of Agent Orange.  “Just because you can’t see the disability,” he says, “does not mean it doesn’t exist.”  I asked him what he thought of the VA allowing retroactive claims for Agent Orange exposure last summer, but he hadn’t heard of it.  “I submitted a claim 40 years ago, they know who I am.”

          I admit that I am surprised about his reluctance to talk about the war and veterans’ issues in the context of his campaigns and he reiterates to me his point that he feels those are not things that should be discussed in the media.  He blames the media coverage of the anti-war movement and Democratic Candidate George McGovern’s platform of withdrawal from the war for how the war ended.  He thinks perhaps things could have ended differently if politicians and elected officials hadn’t “opened their big mouths,” about their plans for the war.
 
          “[People] watch too much TV,” he tells me.  “I warned People in 1993 that we were moving towards a media-nation.”  During the New York gubernatorial campaign, among Mr. McMillan’s most repeated lines was his support of gay marriage, saying that he’d allow someone to marry a shoe if they wanted to.  However, his support for gay rights does not mean that he thinks the attention given to the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” was good for the military.  “They are making a mockery of us with all this gay crap.  We don’t care who you are in the foxhole.”  Removed from the idea of whether it is good or bad for the military, Mr. McMillan’s point is to just keep it out of the larger national discussion.  “You just killed eight people…you just watched your friend’s leg get blown off…And America’s shoving this down soldiers’ throats.  It has to stop.”
 
          But, I ask, who then will speak to the issues that face the military and the veterans if it is not in the national discussion?  And that is precisely why Jimmy McMillan has decided to run for office so many times.  But he doesn’t say this (wholly) as someone who is running for office, but instead what I take away from it is that more veterans need to be involved in government.  To be there firsthand to fight for the needs of the fraternity.  While I disagree with his assertion that media coverage of the war is ultimately bad, his overall point is not lost on me.
 
          Jimmy McMillan then tells me why he uses poverty as the springboard for his activism.  Since his return from Vietnam he has seen how disproportionately veterans are homeless and living below the poverty line.  He calls this “disgusting” and “a disgrace.”  “There are veterans suffering from PTSD.  There are veterans, like me, who came with amnesia [TBI]…. These are veterans the Depart of Defense ignores totally…. These are veterans who the Department of Veteran Affairs don’t give a damn about.” While they are harsh words, the harshness comes from experience.  “I went to get help,” he tells me after urging from his mother, “I was 38 years old.”  His claim was finally approved in 2004, some 20 years after he filed for help.  It was finally PTSD and hearing loss that won him his claim – not the effects of Agent Orange.

          “You kill somebody – it’s not a fun and games thing to come home and try not to kill.  See a dead body on your bed – on the floor when the lights go off every night.  They can’t tell you what I know.”  It appalls him as much as the rest of us when mental injuries are ignored or downplayed.  “[They’ll say] just forget about it, son.  Try and live life and move on.  What’s wrong with you?”  “Don’t play around with killers, don’t mess with my brothers,” he cautions, “It’s real.  I’ve killed people, I know how they feel.”

          As our conversation draws to a close, I thank him for his time and I tell him how grateful I am to his generation of veterans for bearing hardships that have made it easier for my generation.  His response surprises me.  “Now, you’re a young vet and I hope you’ll stop that.  As a Vietnam vet, I don’t look at World War I or World War II vets like you are looking at us.  Don’t put one soldier above another.  A vet is a vet, no matter what category they came under.  We all served this nation.  We are vets together.”  Like a fool, I attempted to debate him on this.  I pointed out that while Iraq is indeed a danger zone, I was in a non-combat MOS.  I argued that my tour in Bosnia was like Summer Camp compared to his experiences in Vietnam.  He laughs, a knowing laugh that is not at my expense but more at what he sees as my naiveté.  He points out that in Bosnia, “you could have stepped on a landmine,” or in Iraq, “you could’ve got blown up by a rocket launcher.”  “We soldiers, we need to change that mindset.  We don’t look at it the way you just stated it.  Vietnam, Iraq – War is war.”  He tells me that it is the peace he finds through martial arts that frames his view.  “The closest distance between two points is straight ahead.  You learn that in martial arts.  Stay focused.  My focus is my people.  I will not be distracted.”