Army of Me

I had never used swear words before I was in the army. You'd think if I were to pick up the habit anywhere it would be there. Profanity was in the air. Soldiers breathed it in and out rather than spoke it. But somehow I held out. I felt like I had to maintain my well-educated vocabulary, my intellectual bearing. There was no reason to stoop down to the level of my fellow soldiers.

Besides, they were mostly guys. Guys can have potty mouths. Swear like a sailor is a common expression. But all the service branches are pretty handy at it. I became known for my dislike of the unsavory language. Often, the guys in my squad would be telling dirty jokes in the language that is a usual requirement. I'd silently come up behind them; one of them would see me and they'd clam up. "You should wear a bell," they used to say. Perhaps they didn't want to offend me, or perhaps they didn't want to hear me complain about their unsavory speech.

But speech was not the danger. I have since learned that a well placed swear can be necessary in life. And there's no sense in putting up a stronghold where one is not vulnerable. Protection should have been concentrated elsewhere.

My introduction to relationships with men caught me a bit unawares. And while I was curious, wondered what it would be like; I was too naive to know what I really wanted. How could I? I was 19. Ingenuous. Unrequited high school crushes did not prepare me.

Suddenly, there I was, with all these guys. Not like the ones I played baseball with in the street growing up. They were looking at me differently. Following me around. There were good things. I met some nice guys, had good relationships, however brief. But then there were those...the ones I never asked for. The ones I couldn't seem to avoid. More and more it was me against them. And for a long time it didn't occur to me that it should be any different.

The words I'd gotten used to. The comments about my gender, my body in particular, implications about my private behavior... offers to participate in those behaviors, they bothered me yes. But I could handle it. But sometimes the pressure was more than verbal. It got physical. And I felt like I was in a corner. And I broke down, wasn't strong enough. The emotional pain was just as great. I turned it inward, blamed myself and somehow came out on the other side. Not quite the same.

Years have gone by since then. A whole other lifetime it seems. But it will always stay with me. What I experienced, and what I learned. And I am strong. Stronger than I thought. Tougher than I look.

(image by Emma Davies copyright 2010 online @ Saatchi_gallery.co.uk )