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Sunday, January 30, 2011

Women in Combat

Disclaimer: The following posts may be offensive and I apologize if you feel that these statements are sexist or prejudice in anyway.

So I had a very interesting conversation with my brother and future sister in law last night at dinner. And before anyone even begins to think anything negative about him or say that he is being sexist; every point he made was actually from a very rational position rather than an emotional one.
I do not remember exactly where the conversation came from, but we ended up discussing wom in the military, moving into possible combat roles, and relating to that, other occupations that women really do not fit in well. My brother is a police officer in the area and even though many people have only seen one side to him, I have had the opportunity over the last year to really get to know him better.
Can you carry this man out of the line of fire?
Anyways, our discussion involved the double standard that many (like 99% of) jobs have for not only women but all minorities in one form or another, whether gender, race, sexual orientation, age, etc. This is an argument I have been making for years. I hate the fact that women are not held to the same standards as men in the military. "Equal rights" does not simply mean equal privileges but quite literally means there should be equal treatment, responsiblity, punishment, and rewards. This is not the case in our society. So many people want equal privileges without the responsibility.
What aspect of combat distinguishes between whether you have internal or external genitalia? I know that bombs does not blow up any slower simply because the people around it are women. So why are women given an additional three minutes to run three miles? Even given the exact nature of our physical fitness test, women are systematically being told that they are inferior to the men they work with. Men have to do pull ups, an exercise that is designed to simulate the ability to pull your own body weight up and out of a bad situation, like up off a ledge. Women are required to do the flexed arm hang. An "exercise" that has women simply hold their body weight long enough for help to arrive, but not to pull up their own body weight. Does this not blatantly state that women are not expected to take care of themselves?
Yes, I know that there are a few, and I do emphasize few women who can keep up with mid level men physically, BUT they are few and far between. In addition to the combat application of our physical fitness tests is the immediate distortion of promotion points. Our PFT has a possibility of 300 points towards ones promotion for non NCOs; Privates, Private First Class, and Lance Corporals. Crunches are the only aspect that are fair, 100 points for 100 crunches in 2 minutes regardless of gender. The part that I believe is the most unfair and biggest difference between genders is the pull ups versus flexed arm hang. For a man to pass, he must accopmlish a minimum of 3 dead hang pull ups, and 5 points per pull up- maxed out at 20. This is not the easiest task for the majority of men to accomplish. Women on the other hand, are only required to do a flexed arm hang for 15 seconds on the pull up bar. The best part about this (please note the bitter sarcasm) is that it is not even required for the woman to keep her chin above the bar, but that only "some degree of flexion at the elbow is maintained." Therefore as long as there is the slightest bend to your elbow you are still accumulating time. To get the maximum points for this evolution, a woman only needs to say up on the bar for 70 seconds. I can not comprehend how a person who has passed a military boot camp is unable to support their own body weight for a mere 15 seconds.
Look, so easy a child can do it.

I asked a friend of mine to contribute his take on the issue as a sergeant in the infantry. I feel extremely confident that I can generalize his responses to the majority of the male population of the military, especially those in combat units.
When asked how he feels about the "equality" between genders in the military he replied with that there is no equal treatment, none at all. Females meet lower standards across the board and generally receive special treatment in nearly all aspects of military life, from housing, to performance expectations, to interpersonal relationships.  I find that I am in complete agreement. I already explained one aspect of performance expectations, but as far as interpersonal relationships women tend to get away with more than men. It is easier for women to get away with talking to a superior in a more casual manner. I can personally attest to this, I know that I got away with having a big mouth more than most people I worked with. I talked back to people and yet never received official repremands while I know a lot of Marines who didn't say anything too different than I did get written counceling statements.
I asked his opinion on whether women should be permitted to attempt the training for actual combat MOS-s. He full heartedly agreed that the training is important. That we should be allowed to fullfill the same training requirements as the men, but not sent to combat units. Besides our 22 days of "combat training" after bootcamp, we never really do any training aside from going to the rifle range annually. But what happens when a support truck in Afghanistan is attacked and the women there are expected to defend it, themselves, and make it back to base? They end up like Jessica Lynch, a woman who never fired her weapon when her truck crashed, dropped to her knees and prayed instead of fighting, got captured and after putting the lives of additional soldiers and Marines in danger to rescue her, was awarded a Bronze Star.
This friend also described how on multiple occassions while deployed he had females that were unable to complete patrols and physically had to be carried back by other Marines. An occurrance that didn't occur with any males, even non infantry ones. Reactions are also a major aspect on where we differ. Through his experience with combat, he witnessed that most (but not all) women do not attempt to close with the enemy (get closer to and engage) and also tend to break down under the stress to the degree that it couldnt be shaken off. This is a major liability to other Marines and Soldiers because someone has to take care of them.
When asked what the most physically demanding aspect of being a grunt was, he replied with the combat patrols wearing over 130 pounds of equipment in 140 degree heat for 4-12 hours. I'm sorry, but I was in relatively good shape but I know there is no way in hell that I would be able to carry nearly my own body weight for 4 hours, let alone 12 and definitely not in 140 degree heat.

Friday, January 28, 2011

I have had a lot of time to think lately, and for some reason gun control has occupied quite a bit of that space. Arlington school district is looking into whether teachers should be allowed to carry on campus. Conservatives and student republicans are pushing for the legislation to allow consealed handgun license toting students to be allowed to carry on college campuses.
I am taking a ceramics class that releases at 9pm Mondays and Wednesdays at one of the Tarrant County College campuses and when I left after my first class I was painfully aware of the lack of proper lighting, the abundance of areas for a person to hide or be hidden in, and the small amount of people actually on campus at such a late hour. I immediately formed multiple scenarios of what an unfriendly perseon could accomplish should they choose to do so, and my first defensive thought was how I wished I could have my pistol with me.
I know I'm not exactly the ideal mugging victim, I'm tall, usually wearing a large coat making me appear larger/possibly stronger than I really am, and I actively pay attention to my surroundings rather than looking down/at my phone. Additionally I do not carry anything of real value with me to class I lock my valuables up and only have my wedding ring, phone, and car keys.
I do consider many scenarios for randomly, slightly improbable events that have no logical standard unless perhaps Mars, Venus, Pluto, and Staturn aline under the Second Star to the Right and Peter Pan was lost in Vegas, but I like having a plan. It makes it easier to deal with alternative, more realistic events.
I have decided that since when I blog at night when I cannot sleep I tend to jump all over the place, so I will just start writing my thoughts during the day as they occur then add them later when I can organize them better.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Nesting and Domestication

Even though throughout my life I have never really exemplified the art of being feminine I have loved the domestic arts, minus cleaning. All of the traditional gender roles; baking, cooking, sewing, decorating, etc... have always held a special place in my heart.  Since moving home to stay with my dad while my husband is deployed I have fallen back into that domestic spirit.
Since the New Year has began, I have working on a quilt for my sister. She bought the fabric months ago but with our wedding, A's deployment, finals, moving home, then Christmas I didn't have time to start it. I worked on it for basically a week straight to start and finish the topper for the quilt.  As an addition for my amazing gift from my Dad of Adobe Photoshop 9, he made me a quilters rack. I have not started quilting yet because I had to find the right backing for the quilt. I finally decided to use a solid fabric instead of having a seam down the back, so I bought a cheap, king sized flat sheet and will use that. This is a picture of a section of her quilt; uneven rows, haphazardly designed, but made with love. This is the third quilt that I have made based on this pattern, the square and borders and I have finally realized that I do not like it. I am not good at cutting evenly or I pull too much and stretch the rows. So I will now find a new pattern to use in future blankets.
I have also started working on a baby quilt. I'm not sure if this will be a quilt that I keep or gift, after all most of my friends are either pregnant or have children already. I am so jealous, I cannot wait for A and I to start our family. And don't worry, I've heard it all before. "Wait, you don't have to rush into anything." "Be married for a while before you have kids." "There is no hurry, babies change your life." I know that technically we have only been married since October, but we've been together for almost 3 years, we fell into our roles early in our relationship. We have our routines established, our standard fights and solutions, our expectations and wants. Children are the next ingredient to our family. I have always been on the emotional fast track to wanting a family, but together we are finally at that point where it is rational as well as emotional.

My baby quilt that I'm making is Dr Seuss inspired. Notable, and some less notable creatures: Cindy Lou Who from How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the beautiful Truffula Trees from The Lorax Saves the Trees, Thing One and Thing Two as well as the hat from The Cat in the Hat, Horton from Horton Hears a Who, and fish from One Fish Two Fish.  Depending how long this takes me to embroidery this quilt, I may add a few more creatures. Although this is technically a gender neutral quilt, I do think that it will suite a little girl better than a boy because of the colors.
With Cindy Lou Who, I had decided that I wasn't going to fill her in anymore than just her stunning eyes, but looking at her now, I think I may color in either her dress or ornament. And with the trees, the trunks are complete. If you read the story, they are not soldidly colored, although I did reverse the detail. They are solild yellow with scratchy black, but I think that would be too dark for a baby quilt. But I may color in one of the tree tops, probably the center one.
I am in the process of filling in Thing One's hair and let me tell you, this is a very slow process. I have used a few yards of thread so far and as you can see, I am barely making a dent in his beautiful blue hair. I think that with Thing Two I will fill in his body rather than his hair, just for a little bit of demension.



In addition to the sewing that I have been doing, I am now taking a ceramics class and a painting class at Tarrant County College. I am so excited for these classes to really begin. I cannot wait to find out what we will be required to create.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

If only I could Sleepwalk

For anyone who hasn't caught on just yet, I am an insomniac. Or maybe I am just a night owl who likes to sleep while the sun is up. I don't know for sure, but it is 0330 and I am no closer to closing my eyes than I was six hours ago. I feel that I do my best thinking a) while driving or b) when I should be sleeping. So, due to the fact that I am on my computer, one can guess that it is obviously the latter rather than the former. 

Tonight I enjoyed a trip down memory lane through my friend Holly's blog with her boot camp revival stories. I'm not sure if everyone had the same love-hate relationship during their experience, but the smallest phrase can flood my mind with vivid pictures of Parris. As Holly explained in her introduction of me as a guest blogger on her site, I was am a perfectionist. I know, it is such a stretch to your consciousness, but I was so hell bent on trying to be right, do the right thing, and yes, for the Drill Instructors to like me. There has always been a chasm between the rational and emotional parts of my brain. I knew that they would never like their recruits, it was their job to hate us (or at least act like it), but damn-it if I wasn't hell bent on making them like me. As far as I know this was never accomplished, but it did make me a total pain in the ass to live with for three months. I never have been very good at making friends, especially not with people my own age. I am more comfortable sitting around with my grandparents and their friends playing cards than going out and talking to people I sit next to in school or at a bar. I guess that explains why my husband is almost seven years older than me.

Looking back at all the relationships I've had in my life, I have realized that I am really just not a people person. As far back as pre-k I distinctly remember feeling the need to lie about myself to make someone like me. I don't remember the girl's name, or really anything about her except she was "popular." The boys liked her, and I liked the boys, so what better way to have any interaction with them then be friends with the one they like. (Can you tell I screwed up my priorities early in life?)  Anyways... my great grandparents' house caught fire when we were in kindergarten, still at the day care, and I told her about it. I loved telling stories and turned that story into something more interesting. Success, we became friends. At recess everyday, those boys would chase her around the playground, and I figured that the best way to get them to stop since she didn't want them to, was for us to chase them back.

This twisted understanding of friendships and crushes continued, once I started elementary school I used to get the boys I liked to chase me again by taunting them with "I'm faster than you are, you couldn't catch me in 1,000 years!" When this tactic stopped working, my new best friend Mandy and I would simply chase the cute boys we liked at recess in a forced game of tag. I guess I never really learned how to properly establish interpersonal relationships since besides Mandy, I talked more to my teachers than I did to fellow students. I never had the female friendships that teach one how to talk, dress, or act like a girl. I took ballet for all of a 3 classes until they wouldn't let my mom stay in the room, I was a brownie for only a year, and the one time I thought I wanted to try out for cheer-leading my dad responded with "I would rather you be an athlete than an airhead." So I joined athletics; basketball, cross country, and track, sports my dad would be proud of. To add to this lack of femininity I decided the summer going into my freshman year of high school that I was going to join the military.

At the time I was determined to go to West Point or Annapolis, I wrote them letters requesting information but they replied with "we're sorry, contact us when you are at least 17 years of age." Formal education was always something that came pretty easy to me, it was expected and delivered by everyone in my family. My father is a genius, although he refuses to go on Jeopardy because of the "small talk" with Alex Trebek after the first commercial. My mother went to nursing school at night when we were very young, all while managing to maintain an orderly household, spend time with us kids and Dad, and still make me and my sister dresses for Christmas. My sister definitely took after my dad, she helped me write history papers over the phone while drunk in college. My brother again is brilliant. Although he didn't finish his formal degree (I believe it had more to do with boredom than anything else since he had good grades), he chose to pursue a more noble profession and attended the Police Academy. Well, anyways my point was that I just stopped caring about grades, homework, and school all together. There really wasn't a challenge and I didn't feel like giving it much effort, this held true for cross country, track, and band.

I guess you can say that I am really just a lazy person with high expectations. I put forth just enough effort to get what I want, even if it is for the purpose of proving something to someone else, but that's about it. I wanted to go to the regional cross country meet, so I actually practiced for the week before district so I could drop 2 minutes off my 2 mile time and qualify. I went as an alternate, so I stopped practicing after that.  In school, the only classes I would "study" for were ones where I liked the professor so I didn't want them to think I was dumb. And that really only applied to 2 of my history professors (luckily those 2 professors taught 6 of my 8 history classes).

I wait until the very last minute to do things, but the universe has yet to condemn me for my crime. I have no idea how or why it seems to be this way, but my bad habits have not kicked me in the ass enough for me to change. 15 page paper with 20 sources due today... I turn in 11 pages and 14 sources- I get a 93. Don't read the assigned book and randomly write down generalized phrases based on section titles- I get an 85. Actually run for 7 days and drop from a 15 minute 2 mile to a 13 minute run... Where is my incentive to change my ways? I have been conditioned to be lazy. I know there must be examples of when this has resulted in a punishment, but it is on a variable ratio schedule that I can't even remember when it has. This is the same reason that even though everyone knows what the speed limit is, they drive 5-10 mph faster on the highway. You may get a ticket once in a while, but you get away with it 100x more than you get tickets.

It is now almost 0500 and I should probably attempt once more to fall asleep, although Wookie keeps snoring and hogging my bed. 200+ combined pounds and 3 pair of legs in a twin bed make for an uncomfortable night sleep. So sadly I must wake her up and send her to her own bed... all of 2 feet away. I cannot wait until my husband comes home to once again have a king sized bed instead. Although living rent free with my dad for a year does have its major financial benefits...



Good night, sweet dreams, my you all have a safe tomorrow.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Walk Down Memory Lane

At the request of a friend I was in boot camp with, I have sat down and sorted through all the painful, funny, and embarrassing moments that we shared during our thirteen weeks at Parris Island in 2004. You hear everyone in the military talk about how they made life-long friendships during boot camp/basic training. I scream LIES!! I know, I’m writing this at the request of a friend that I met during boot camp… the difference is we weren’t friends during it. I don’t know if anyone actually became friends with anyone there. Stress does not always bring out the best in people, especially when seventy women are all living in the same room for three months.
Any way, I digress… although at the time, boot camp was horrible, alienating, and downright miserable; looking back I have so many great and funny memories. Ask anyone who has ever served, especially a Marine, and they will tell you boot camp stories until you want to scream.
 
Our drill instructors were the most formidable women I think I have ever, and will ever come in contact with, but I don’t remember them being vertically intimidating. We of the Dirty Thirty had three Hispanic women who required us to say their names quickly and perfectly. Sergeant De Leon became very annoyed at us for how people squished it together saying “Deli On,” resulting in her yelling one night, “Big D Little E SPACE Big L Little E on” multiple times. Sergeant Gonzales got very irritated that when we had to write out information on duty every night people kept writing “Gonzalez.” This resulted in her yelling, “My name doesn’t end in ‘z!’ I’m not a fricking Puerto Rican!!”
 
I don’t know how entertaining this may be for anyone else… but at the time, this was so hard not to laugh at. I know how they felt, with my maiden name that I had the entire time I was in, nobody ever said/spelled it correctly. They would always use Johnson instead of Johnston, even when I would tell them “sTon” people would still screw it up.
 
Another funny story, which I promise is definitely more entertaining than name mistakes, has to do with why we were referred to as Dirty Thirty. We were Platoon 4030, Oscar Company 4th Battalion graduating 1 October 2004. In boot camp, there are specific methods to ask to do everything. If you didn’t say the long phrase correctly, you got yelled at and weren’t allowed to do whatever. Example: “Good Afternoon Ma’am, Drill Instructor Sergeant De Leon, Ma’am. This recruit requests permission to make a head call, Ma’am.” Just to go to be bathroom.

During the first few days of boot camp, no one wanted to step up and ask for permission to do anything. This led to many, many girls who needed to go to the restroom holding it, some longer than they actually could. In the first two weeks of boot camp, at least 4 women wet their pants, one of which continued to do so throughout our stay until the night she accidentally got the girl in the bed below her wet. I happened to be on fire watch this night, and all I remember is one of our shorter girls stumble into the center of the squad bay, arms and legs spread out to try and keep the wet clothing away from her body , crying “Fire Watch!! Philips* just peed on me!!”

*Name has been changed for camaraderie reasons* 

 I've been watching the HBO series The Pacific with my dad since moving in with him while A is deployed. One thing that struck a chord with me was when Leckie, one of the authors, developed enuresis after Guadalcanal and Cape Gloucester. Basically due to the stress and fatigue of battle, he would urinate without realizing it, or being able to control it. I know that boot camp is nothing like going into the horrors of battle during War World II but it does effect people.



Tuesday, January 4, 2011

What Would Have Beens

As I lay here tonight, as with every night, my mind wanders through the thoughts plaguing my subconscious. I have been lucky to reconnect with old friends because of Facebook as of late and the questions of "what would have been" keep assaulting my brain. Please don't get me wrong, I love where I am, who I am, and who I am with. Even in all of my alternate realities, I still end up with my A. The only difference is the paths along the way.

How would my life have been different if I had had the nerve to actually let people know who I really was in high school/middle school instead of feeling the need to put up such a tough girl front? Would I have had more friends, stayed in touch with more people, had more dates? What would have happened if I actually had the nerve to tell C, M, D, J, etc... that I had liked them? Its funny because since leaving high school and moving such a distance from these people I found out that at least C and M did like me at the same time I had feeling for them. I don't see any of these people as someone that I would be settled down with and married to, but I think at least for the most part that I would've had better relationships with them than I did with the few guys who actually did ask me out. I still talk to these guys and they are not the type who cheat on their girlfriends, but are honest in telling the girls when things aren't working out... how nice would this have been for the first 6 years of my dating life? To be able to date and not be cheated on or used by a guy.

I feel the pang of jealousy sometimes, not because of my destination but because of the journey I had to take to get here. I had to claw and fight and cry my way up this mountain to find my happiness and husband. Each failed painful relationship acted as a path but one covered in thorns and loose rock willing me to fall further from the top. I have yearned for a smoother path, I saw them in the distance, but I was scared of the unseen turns so I stayed close to the familiar ones, even though they cut away at my legs. If only I could have been sure than those clear roads led me to you would I go back and change my route. Maybe I could have found you sooner, with less cynicism and baggage. But time as we perceive it, is linear. There is no alteration of our past, no do over and restart. Additionally though, there is no guarantee in life, maybe those clearer roads would have led me away from you and would that really be where I wanted to go? I do not know that I could take those trails without knowing you were to be my goal.