Service to Country

 Reflecting on my past, I vividly recall the eerie silence following 9-11-2001 as I went to school. It was then that I first encountered a military recruiter and learned about JROTC, which later became a significant part of my high school life. The pivotal moment came when, at 17 years old, I walked into a recruiter's office and, with a waiver signed by my parents, enlisted in the service. People often asked why I joined, and my response was about being part of something bigger. While that's true, there was another, more poignant reason: a deep-seated fear that drove me to transform into something more. 

The concept of mentorship resonated with me from the beginning. I had always longed for a mentor, but never truly found one who didn't eventually try to exploit the relationship. My interactions with inspiring women were few, spurring a deep commitment within me. I was determined to become the kind of leader a younger version of myself would have admired and sought guidance from.

Being selected as a Naval Aviator was a pivotal moment for me, representing both a crowning achievement and a confrontation with my deepest fear: failure. Flight school presented a series of formidable challenges, some stemming from my own expectations and others from the rigorous demands of the training itself. These experiences honed my skills in aviation, navigation, and communication, crucial for handling crises effectively. As a Marine, I was already conditioned for discipline and resilience, but this tactical training further reprogrammed my thinking. It was a transformation that geared my mind towards survival in the most challenging environments, a complete reorientation towards strategic operation and survival instincts.

As I progressed in the Marines, it became increasingly clear to me that being a female leader in a predominantly male field brought unique challenges and responsibilities. One of the roles I was assigned to was that of a Sexual Assault Response Coordinator, where I managed the care and support for victims across my units. This position was emotionally taxing and brought me face-to-face with my own concealed experiences of abuse, both prior to and during my military service. In this role, I was committed to advocating for change and ensuring accountability in cases of misconduct and illegal actions. However, as time passed, I increasingly felt like a lamb among wolves. Despite my rigorous training and even flying one of the largest aircraft in the Marine Corps, the dynamics I faced amongst my community reminded me that the challenges of being a woman in such an environment went beyond professional competence.

A preventable tragedy and subsequent revelations shattered my perception of the military system, revealing a harsh disconnect between my personal values and my service. Despite my pride in my accomplishments, I found myself trapped in an environment that seemed hostile, marked by constant anxiety and a feeling of powerlessness. Unable to change my situation or escape the encroaching sense of danger, I was like a Marine adrift, devoid of purpose. Sitting alone in a stark, empty office, surrounded by blank walls, I faced a profound moment of self-reflection, questioning, "How the fuck did I get here?"