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Denver Water is proud of s diverse workforce. June is known as Pri Month for the LGBTQ+ muni honor of the 1969 Stonewall Uprisg Manhattan, nsired a ccial event the LGBTQ+ rights movement.  In honor of Pri Month, we're sharg the story of Patrick McCoy, a member of Denver Water's IT divisn. Read , and go here, here and here for more stori about some of the other members of our diverse team who ensure the livery of clean, safe water to 1.5 ln people. Patrick McCoy was 14 when his mother left, abandong him and his tw brother. His brother left to live wh his father, and McCoy — homels as a high school hman — spent the next four years crashg wh iends or sleepg rs. Determed to graduate om high school, he kept quiet about his homelife, aaid he’d be kicked out of school and put foster re if anyone found out the tth. It was the first of many tim McCoy’s life was marked by fear of beg found out and the loss that would follow if the tth beme known. As a teenager, he hid the fact he was homels. As a member of the U.S. ary the 1980s and 90s, he hid the fact he was gay. Then a stolen letter about a kiss triggered an arrt by ary police, a night jail, the yankg of McCoy’s top-secret clearance, and an honorable discharge om the U.S. Air Force for beg an admted homosexual. He was released onto the streets wh the cloth on his back, homels aga and facg more years of verbal and physil abe, discrimatn and fear. But McCoy’s life also is marked by a fah that thgs would get better. And today he’s proud of who he is and the happs he’s found. "This is the first time I've ever felt safe enough to share my story," said McCoy, who joed Denver Water 2012 and works as an IT change manager. "Denver Water has given me that." Today, McCoy is happily married to a man he met 2001. He has a succsful reer. He’s an active advote for Denver’s LGBT muny and for ary veterans. But the srs, although buried, rema. June 1, 2018, exactly 17 years after they met, newlyweds Patrick McCoy, right, and hband Dave on their weddg day. Photo cred: Patrick McCoy.   McCoy worri about how people will react if they learn he’s gay. “The fear and hatn are still very real for me. I’m often aaid to reveal who I am to strangers. I don’t thk that fear will ever go away,” he said. “The strength to keep gog, that om wh myself. I try to stay te to myself and not be aaid of who I am — to stand up for what I believe and be good to others. You never really know what’s gog on someone’s life.” Creatg a fay, and a ver McCoy was a senr high school when he told his iends he was gay. “I dated girls high school and all of my clost iends were femal,” he said. “It wasn’t until I got olr that I realized I surround myself wh women bee they ma me feel loved and supported. They were my fay.” His own fay gone, McCoy nfid his new fay, his girliends. “I was so aaid they would thk I was broken. It’s thanks to my supportive group of girliends that I was able to fd myself. They showed me that I wasn’t broken, that there wasn’t anythg wrong wh me,” he said. McCoy graduated fourth his class of more than 400 stunts. On his own after high school, he joed the Air Force, but hid his homosexualy out of fear of how his ary ras would react if they disvered the tth. He soon learned he was right to be ut. Durg basic trag, McCoy’s squadron began harassg another airman they spected was gay. One night, they beat him so severely he had to go home. McCoy knew he uld never reveal he was gay. McCoy participatg a NATO petn Germany where he won a gold medal for shootg. After beg discharged, this is the only picture McCoy kept of his time the Air Force. Photo cred: Patrick McCoy.   “I was so aaid people would fd out. I knew they would hurt me. I had to hi who I was. Every sgle day I lived fear that someone would learn the tth,” he said. McCoy set about buildg a ver signed to ensure his secret was safe. He stigated a fight wh the largt, tought man the squadron. “I hoped someone would break up the fight before the other guy really hurt me,” he said. “I wanted people to thk I was crazy — that surely a gay boy wouldn’t be tough like that.” His lack of fay helped build his ver. “I was the only one who never once received mail,” he said. “This actually worked to my advantage, helpg to solidify my crazy, tough-guy persona.” But McCoy knew he was sted for greater thgs. When thgs got hard or when he got down, he referred to a list he wrote when he was 14 years old. “I listed all of the quali I thought ma someone great, like passn, love, kdns, perseverance and tn. I knew I was smart, and I knew I had a lot of good quali. This is what kept me gog,” he said. Risg through the ranks After basic trag, McCoy was sent to Biloxi, Mississippi, for technil school. Thanks to his exceptnal gras, McCoy beme the squadron lear — a role he mataed his entire three months of trag. “This was another way I uld distract people om who I actually was. I was a lear and I worked hard to make sure everyone liked me. I figured if they found out my secret, maybe they wouldn’t hurt me if they all liked me,” he said. After technil school, McCoy was given a month of leave before headg to his assignment Germany. Durg that month, McCoy met and beiend Jenny, an 18-year-old girl he’d met Virgia who’d fallen on hard tim. They cid to get married. “We were good iends and we need each other more than we realized,” said McCoy. “I was so aaid to live the dorms Germany and have my secret revealed. If I were married, people would never gus I was gay, and we uld live married hog.” The two traveled across the state le to North Carola. They pooled their money, g rolls of s to pay the marriage fe. McCoy placed a Thunrt r rg he got om a box of Cheers on Jenny’s fger. They were married. After arrivg Denver, McCoy beme volved wh gay pri and an advote the muny. He participated a photo shoot for the ver of "Out Front," a magaze for the Denver gay muny. Photo cred: Patrick McCoy.   The newlyweds moved to Germany where McCoy had a top-secret clearance and llected telligence g aerial imagery. Durg his time overse, McCoy was ployed to Kuwa and Sdi Arabia. He stood shoulr to shoulr wh others holdg a hammer when the Berl Wall was torn down. “The hours were long, and the work was tough, but I was great at my job. I was a good soldier,” said McCoy. A kiss, a letter and more loss After three years Germany, Jenny got volved wh dgs and began hangg out wh the wrong crowd. The ary forced McCoy to send her back to the Uned Stat. “She was able to get out of the environment she was and get sober. I sent money to her so she uld attend llege,” said McCoy. “In hdsight, end up beg a good thg.” The two would stay married for 23 years, although they only saw each other once aga, when McCoy vised her llege. Nearg the end of his four-year ployment, McCoy went out one night and met a man. They kissed. It was the first man McCoy had ever kissed. He wrote about the experience a letter to Jenny, his longtime nfidant. He sealed the letter and stored his locker until he uld get to the post office. He wouldn’t get the chance to mail . Another service member disvered the letter. She opened , then shared wh the rt of the squadron. McCoy was immediately arrted for beg an admted homosexual and spent the night jail. “The experience was absolutely meang. Once the officers found out I was gay, they wouldn’t look at me — not a sgle one would look me the ey, not even my lawyer,” he said. McCoy protted, sayg his privacy rights were vlated when the letter was stolen om his locker. “My lawyer told me that once they found out ‘what I was,’ I lost all my rights.” McCoy was orred to attend weekly ssns at a mental stutn, and his top-secret clearance was stripped om him. Unable to perform his job whout a clearance, McCoy was forced to move mattrs and out of the dormori for a month. He was then given a job workg a ll center wh the pennt wiv of other soldiers. McCoy, right, and Dave on their first Christmas together 2001. Photo cred. Patrick McCoy.   “They did everythg they uld to take away every b of pri I had. I was a soldier and I was really good at my job. They took that all away om me. It hurt,” said McCoy. On Dec. 21, 1993, Print Bill Clton issued a directive to the ary that would bee known as "don't ask, don't tell." It was tend to be a promise om the ary’s prr stance that gay servicemen and women were barred om servg. The new directive said the ary uldn’t ask servicemembers about their sexual orientatn, nor uld servicemembers disclose their sexual orientatns. But McCoy’s secret was already out. And 11 days after the directive was issued, McCoy was sent home. “I was told if I remaed quiet about everythg they did to me over the prev year, they would give me an honorable discharge,” he said. “That was very important to me, so I didn’t say a word.” It’s timated that about 17,000 men and women were discharged om the ary unr the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy between 1993 and when was end 2011, followg legislatn by Congrs 2010 and Print Barack Obama’s signature. McCoy was granted an honorable discharge. His official paperwork lists the reason for discharge as “homosexual,” which at the time meant he uldn’t receive any ary benefs. Homels and aaid, aga After five years away om the U.S., McCoy was dropped off at an out-procsg center Philalphia wh nothg more than the cloth on his back. He was homels once aga. “I had a iend Germany who was always talkg about how great Denver was, so I set my sights on Colorado,” said McCoy. He started hchhikg and hoped to a r wh a man headg wt. Then the driver started talkg. McCoy, left, and hband Dave snap a weddg day selfie wh their officiant sg the background. Photo cred: Patrick McCoy.   “He began makg rogatory ments and spewg racial slurs about all kds of people, cludg gay people,” said McCoy. “I had no doubt that if I told him I was gay he would leave me ad on the si of the road.” In Indianapolis, McCoy got out of the r, shaken. “I was thkg, ‘Is this what I went to war for? Is this the Ameri I risked my life for?’” Lookg for support and unrstandg, he went to a gay bar, but didn’t fd what he was lookg for. “I was shocked at how ltle they red,” said McCoy. “They didn’t really re what I had been through. Everyone jt wanted to party and have fun. I felt like I got more support om my heterosexual iends than om anyone the gay muny there.” That was the moment that changed thgs for McCoy. It was then that he cid he need to get volved, to be an activist, to make a difference. But first, he wanted out of Indianapolis. McCoy worked several jobs, wag tabl, workg at a vio store and at a tax center. He lost unt of the jobs he was fired om when someone disvered he was gay. But he saved his money, bought a beat-up old r and head wt aga. Marchg forward wh pri “Once I got to Denver, I beme actively volved wh gay pri,” said McCoy. It was 1994, and that November would be the first Veterans Day celebratns followg the official repeal of the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. For Denver’s para, McCoy gathered three other gay veterans. The four of them marched the para. Two held a sign that read “Gay Veterans.” The other two held Amerin flags. “We were vulnerable and terrified, but we refed to allow anyone to say we weren’t veterans. We were proud of our ary service, and we were proud to be gay,” McCoy relled. As the four marched down the street, McCoy looked up to the crowd. He saw a mother wh her young dghter. And he saw her read their sign. “She reached down and clasped her dghter’s ty hands and clapped them together for ,” McCoy said. “Thkg of that moment still brgs tears to my ey.” Patrick McCoy, left, and hband Dave wh Denver Water's inic nng toilet at Denver Water's 100th anniversary celebratn at Waterton Canyon last year. Photo cred: Patrick McCoy.   After that first para, McCoy began advertisg and anizg people the gay muny. They began marchg gay pri paras and started buildg support systems and spreadg the word about gay pri. “For the first time, I found myself surround by people who were jt like me. We had all experienced so much pa. We’d all had reers taken om , had been victims of vlence, had felt aaid to reveal ourselv. Many of had had our whole liv changed and had to start over,” he said. Wh renewed purpose, McCoy found out he did have ary benefs, and enrolled school wh help om the GI Bill, which offers fancial help to veterans pursug an tn. He got a bachelor’s gree and eventually a master’s gree puter science. “Wh each step I ma my tn, I was able to get better jobs wh bigger pani, and was able to grow my work,” he said. “I was able to brg together groups of veterans and I started seeg chang.” He was proud of the chang he was seeg, but also facg new challeng as an openly gay man. McCoy faced cints of verbal and even physil asslt the workplace, forcg him to leave jobs. “I found an IT job workg nights by myself so no one would notice me and where I didn’t have to be aaid of what might happen to me,” he said. McCoy and Dave were married a private ceremony. The uple's dogs Roger, Charlie, Walter and Phil stamped their marriage license as wns.   On June 1, 2001, he met a man named Dave and his whole world changed. Dave had jt e out to his fay when he met McCoy. Sce they met, the two have never been apart, even though McCoy’s marriage to Jenny was still on the books. “When we met, I was still married to Jenny. We jt never saw any need to go through all the legali of divorce. I certaly wasn’t gog to get married sce I was gay,” said McCoy. On Oct. 7, 2014, same-sex marriage beme legal Colorado. That spurred McCoy to start the necsary paperwork to divorce Jenny. A year ago, on June 1, 2018, exactly 17 years after they met, Dave and McCoy were married a private ceremony, stampg their marriage license wh their dogs’ footprts as wns. It has been a long, paful journey, one that will ntue. But McCoy’s optimistic about the future. “I see the new generatn leadg the way, showg pri who they are, and I see how they ntue to shape the gay muny. It giv me hope,” said McCoy. “After all, I lived a r and look at me now.”