Be All You Can Be

 

17 years ago, I had just graduated from Military Police AIT and was home on leave. My first duty station was Germany.  I was scared, nervous, excited. I had no idea what the hell awaited me, nor how in the hell to do what I had just spent 4 months learning to do-be a Soldier and an MP. All I knew was that I wanted to be a Staff Sergeant and wear jungle boots! At the time, my experience with leadership was extremely limited to that of the Drill Sergeants. Sure they yelled, and cursed, but they took care of us and helped us. And they scared the hell out of us! So I really had no idea what I would get when I got out into the big bad world of the Army. What would the NCOs be like? Would they yell, curse, teach? Would they scare me? Would I like them and they me? And when can I get jungle boots?

     I PCSd to Germany, and quickly found myself gearing up to deploy to Bosnia, where my unit was at the time. Once again, the fear and excitement happened all over again. And still, no one to lead or mentor me. But hey, I'd get that in Bosnia. I'd get there and start being all I could be, right? My sponsor was just the guy in charge of getting us in-processed and ready to deploy. He wasn't really good for much of anything except a ride to the PX. He was PCSing, and had come back from Bosnia to do so. So the unit decided he would be our sponsor. Probably not the best idea since he was a bit of a dirtbag and definitely provided no leadership or guidance at all.
     When I got to Bosnia, I looked around for the leadership I was expecting-hoping-to find. And didn't really find it. Where were the females? Weren't there any female leaders? Oh, there they are. Bitter and pissed off at the world because they're not getting promoted, so they gave up all pretense of caring. Oh look, there's some female Soldiers. Hey girls, mind if I hang out with you? Oh, wow. So let me get this straight-you hate the Army and Bosnia and are doing everything in your power to get put out, to include telling the Commander you're a lesbian in the hopes of being chaptered out under Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Or you'll just get pregnant while here in country because everyone knows they'd have to send you back to Germany. Pay no attention to me, laying an arm's distance away from your love nest, trying to sleep as you do your damndest to conceive your love child (PS, for my pain and suffering, please name your child after me). Oh neither of those things are your style, you say? You're just going to sleep with whomever can get you out of here. I see. How's that working out for you? Needless to say, being faced with that was a bit overwhelming and left me very bewildered. Then there were the men. They looked at me as "fresh meat", as a pretty girl who wouldn't last a year in the Army before she too tried her damndest to get out of the Army. To them, I was just looking for a husband or for a way to prove myself and be one of the boys. Or I was instantly their female confidant about their problems with their wives back home. I wasn't taken seriously, because let's face it, I was just a female who would end up pregnant in a year. Female Soldiers who wore makeup to work, and cared about their appearance were too girly for the Army and not to be taken seriously. There's males and females. And God forbid if you're too feminine. That makes you a Female, a Girl, a slut and easy. And that had to be avoided at all costs. But wait, you can't be too masculine, either. Cause that would make you a ball busting, man hating lesbian. And you didn't really have female friends. There either weren't any females to have as friends, or you spent all of your time circling around each other, waiting to pounce because this wasn't your friend. You two were too busy cutting each other down and competing against each other for Christ knows what title, award, guy...
   So this was what I was introduced to in my first 9 months after basic training. I was clueless and miserable. But don't worry. I was a cool chick too. That was me, Larkin, the Cool Chick. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing but dammit, I was cool. Not too pretty and girly, not too "manly". Apparently "just right". And those female NCOs from Bosnia were worse upon redeployment. Only now there were that many more men to try to sleep their way to the top with. Everything I knew at that point in time about female shit in the Army was from looking it up myself. Which isn't a bad thing, but there was a lot of trial and error...
     When I did special duty as a vocalist in the USAREUR Soldier's Chorus, I encountered the same types of females, only more of them, and more feminine. So while the mentality hadn't seemed to change much, at least I had females I could look to and turn to for female questions. I also began wearing make up in uniform. Oh the horror of it! Apparently I really WAS trying to get a man and to not be taken seriously!
     When I PCSd to Ft Lewis, I was a brand new SGT.  Having been out of the MP Corps for over a year, I had a lot of catching up to do. And the first thing I learned was that I "couldn't" wear make up in uniform if I wanted to be taken seriously and respected. Oh. And I "couldn't" go out too often, for then I'd look like a party girl. And not too many dates/boyfriends-I'd be perceived as easy. And not too many nights doing nothing but hanging out reading or I'd be perceived as a lesbian. What the hell? So I couldn't win for losing. No make up, no nail polish/manicure, but not so little so as to be perceived as butch. Once again, I found myself at a loss. At a cross roads. Why did being respected as an NCO have to be tied in with how much eye shadow I wore? Once again, I was miserable. No true female friends, females who viewed me as competition, females who talked shit about me behind my back, men who didn't take me seriously (or male leaders who had the balls to ask me to let him know my cycle days so that he would be able to track and know why I was being bitchy. Seriously. He said he'd never worked with females before so to please forgive his jack assery.). Now that's not to say I didn't have 1SG April Staton. She was my 1SG and beautiful. She wore make up, and everyone took her seriously. So I wore make up. She was very successful and not at all masculine. So I could be like her, right? Not so much. Because it's totally different when you're the First Sergeant as opposed to just a Sergeant.
     So I spent the next 9 years in turmoil. Why did it seem like in order to be taken seriously I had to sacrifice some of my femininity? So I decided that I wasn't a female NCO. I was an NCO. There's no need to differentiate. I was an NCO, dammit. And I wore make up because it was professional (it made sense in my mind). And anything the boys can do, I can do too. I can curse, spit, drink, swagger and carry my own weight, thank you very much. Respect was because I was like them. I could hang and I was an NCO. NOT a female NCO. That was a designator to be avoided at all costs. To be called a female NCO was akin to being called a dirty word. I learned to look down on female Soldiers who felt they had to sleep their way to the top and to get what they wanted. I didn't do that shit, so why should they? Oh those poor, misguided Soldiers. And parade pretty? Get the fuck out of here with that shit. So I guess I became a bit harder on female Soldiers. They didn't need to exemplify and personify the stereotype of female Soldiers, and dammit, I was going to teach them that. You're not Female Soldiers. You're Soldiers.
     In 2009, I was deployed to Iraq. My boss, CSM French, was (and still is) an Infantryman. By this time, I was a Sergeant First Class and had been in for 13 years. I wasn't an MP anymore, but a Career Counselor. And yes, I was still an NCO, dammit. NOT a Female NCO. I wore make-up, but very little. I now had a short, cute stacked bob for a hair cut (ok it was a hair style). I took extra time with my appearance in the morning so that I looked professional. Not too much makeup, no lipstick-oh God no! What am I, trying to get a date?! Lip balm only, and then it was only to avoid chapped lips. Nail polish was clear, not some girly ass color that the regulation said I could wear. I'm a Sr NCO, and I want to be taken seriously. Well, CSM French told me that it's okay to be feminine. That I didn't have to sacrifice my femininity or identification as a female in order to be respected and taken seriously. I didn't have to be like one of the guys in order for them to respect me. And whether I liked it or not, I was a female NCO. What the hell was he talking about? Whaaaat? No no, CSM.  You don't understand, if I act like a girl then no one will take me seriously. I am not a female NCO. I'm an NCO. "Jenn," he said, "I don't know how to tell you this, but you're a female. A woman. A lady. And an NCO. An outstanding NCO. Stop trying to be one of the guys, because you're not a guy. Being called a lady isn't a bad thing. They still respect you. They respect you not only because they have to, but because of who you are. And Jenn, you're a woman. You're not a man and there's no need for you to act like one.  Be yourself. And between you and me, I know that one of the things you are, is kinda girly." All of this was said in an informal, friendly manner, but also in a mentoring way. But this was crazy talk. You mean to tell me that I can stop acting like one of the guys? I can wear lipstick and nail polish and still be respected? You mean to tell me that I can stop being so hard on myself and feeling like a failure every time I feel like a girl? Huh. Ain't that some shit. Apparently, I can be strong, confident, respected, and successful in the Army while wearing lipstick. And suddenly, it all made sense to me. I wasn't just a leader or Sr NCO. I was a Female NCO. And it was ok to identify myself as such. There were countless female Soldiers out there who felt as I did. Who felt they had to sacrifice their femininity-at least during the duty day-in order to be accepted and respected. That day had a profound affect on me. It changed my world, and way of thinking. I found myself standing even taller, and while I still swaggered, I did so with a new found confidence. I am woman hear me roar! And get the fuck out of my way (hey, some things just don't change...)
     As a Career Counselor, I have a different type of impact on Soldiers. Sometimes, it's direct. Sometimes it's indirect. But either way, I have an impact. Just like those bitter, angry female NCOs did on me, even though I never interacted with them. Here I am, 17 years later. And I revel in my femininity. I take pride in it. And I know that it doesn't have to be one or the other-lipstick or respect. I can have both. And if I can give that to other Soldiers, young, old, male or female, then I've accomplished something. My promotion isn't just for me or my family. It's for all of the Soldiers out there who are looking for guidance, for their identity. It's for those who said I would be out within the year, pregnant. It's for those who thought they had to lie, cheat, steal, or sleep their way to a promotion. I never did any of those things. I used to say that I was very lucky for never encountering sexual harassment or a hostile workplace. But as I reflect, ponder and marvel, I realize that yes, I did. Some of it was by men, some by women. And I just adapted to it. I rucked up and moved out, not realizing that I had the power to change it. So here I am. A Master Sergeant in the United States Army. A Soldier. A Senior Female NCO. A Woman. A Lady. A Wife. A Mother. I am all of these things. And not a single one of them takes away from my credibility. To all those who doubted me, Fuck you. Yeah, I still curse, but not to be accepted. And to the Soldiers who try to pull parade pretty on me, get the fuck out of here (figuratively). Walk with me and let me tell you about life and how to succeed without pulling that shit. Cause you can and I promise, you'll still be able to look in the mirror as when you put your lipstick on.