A Bitch or a Slut: Reflections on the Gender Assumptions and Routine Sexism that were Part of My Experience in the Air Force

(Glossary of Air Force terms and acronyms at the end)

I would like to add that this is only the beginning of my journey. My approved Honors Project for my undergraduate senior semester has been approved to encompass feminist rhetorical theory, creative nonfiction, and the veteran writing canon through a autoethnographic multigenre and multidisciplinary creative composition to begin my memoir, enlighten, and further the healing process of my past. This essay merely scratches the surface of what I plan to explore through my writing, but with my increasing knowledge and passion for this genre I have created for myself, I hope you enjoy reading what has subsequently become the beginning of my journey.

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For most readers, the veteran writing canon is solely writing about war, deployments, and the current view of the military’s trauma hero, combat veteran, or whatever you prefer to call the individuals returning from war. This is largely due to the societal misconceptions surrounding the idea of the trauma hero that has been shaped by politics, news, and the history of society, which has created the misguided perceptions of critical and scholarly interpretations regarding veteran literature, movies, and culture. The current societal image of the trauma hero is grounded in false expectations of masculinity and the romanticism of war as young veterans go to war with ideas of heroism, glory, courage, and sacrifice. Instead they are faced with the traumatic experience of seeing, causing, and suffering immoral violence, which subsequently causes psychological torment. However, I have found that veterans don’t necessarily have to go to war to experience trauma in the military; a story often left untold as if ignored or unacknowledged by society because it doesn’t fit the trauma hero norm. This is the disregarded story of the stateside veteran; a story filled with power trips, sexism and learning the need to CYA. While these may be two different types of trauma heroes, they can both evoke similar patterns of psychological suffering, painful memories, anger, bitterness, betrayal, and numbness.

The experience of betrayal, degradation, and sexual harassment made me angry at first, but as time went on, I became numb to the constant traumatic experiences. After six years, I separated from the military and tried to bury every painful memory I could. I thought I had done this effectively until they began resurfacing, and what I found was bitterness towards the people who did this to me, and the military for allowing it to happen. Even if we forgive wrongs against us, we will never be able to forget them no matter how hard we try. So does the psychological suffering ever really end for either of the so-called trauma heroes that are left broken, betrayed, or forgotten? Although I cannot speak for the trauma heroes who have experienced war first-hand, I can speak from my personal stateside veteran experience to present the gender assumptions, sexual harassment, and sexism that are rarely discussed, especially from a female’s perspective. I soon learned that this issue was old news, yet purposely hidden to preserve the reputation and heroism associated with the military. I never had a chance; my voice was silenced by twisted regulations that deemed me the bad guy or even at fault. Society’s misconceptions about trauma heroes told me I didn’t have a story. It wasn’t until a few months ago that I found my voice, a voice I owe in large part to the encouragement from my professor and mentor, and her suggestion of a story that changed my life.

It was a memoir called Love My Rifle More Than You: Young and Female in the U.S. Army, written by Kayla Williams, and I began to immediately identify with Kayla; it was as if at times she was telling my story. A story that I had buried the day I drove away to start a new chapter of my life; one that would make me feel like I had a purpose in life again. Kayla’s memoir made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the things I had experienced in the Air Force, and because I found her memoir to be so compelling with many parallels to my own stories, I decided to compare my experiences with some excerpts from her book using explanations as to how I related to them. Essentially, I found my voice through hers. Also for that reason, I refer to her throughout my memoir as Kayla rather than Williams because after reading her story, I felt such a strong connection with her that it just felt right to refer to her by her first name. Ironically, throughout my Air Force career, everyone that knew me referred to me by my first name. Most people are either referred to by their last name, their rank and last name, or occasionally their nickname. I maintained being called by my first name because I maintained my identity throughout my enlistment. I refused to be anything I was not.

It didn’t take long for the sexism I experienced in the Air Force to begin. When I got to my first and only base, Dyess AFB in Texas, the supervisor I was given would call and text me things on the weekend such as, “So when are you going to come over and get drunk and naked with me?” I was 19 at the time and hadn’t even been at Dyess for a month. I might have been young, and I knew it wasn’t right, but I chose to do nothing about it because I didn’t think anyone would care or listen to me.

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In her memoir, Kayla states: As a consequence I’ve always believed that I have something to prove. Especially to myself. It’s a terrible thing to think that fear of pain or of failure shadows your entire existence. It’s a worse thing to believe that you must struggle against those fears every day of your life. To prove to yourself and the world that you can do it.

Just like Kayla, I had those same feelings throughout my military career, and even before I joined. People were constantly telling me I would never make it in the military and insisted that I’d never even make it through Basic Training because I “couldn’t bring my hair dryer.” For that reason, I purposely curled my hair and put on makeup before getting on the bus that took us to Basic Training. Did I get singled out for it? Of course, but I’d rather be a firecracker than a candle in the wind any day. Then, throughout my six years, I was constantly picked on and singled out for this same quality; that and of course for the way I looked.

My last supervisor and I got along fairly well at first, which was something that I was happy about after every prior supervisor being a dirtbag (especially the one before her). I was given a new section at work and a new supervisor after my previous section and supervisor had done everything in their power to get me kicked out of the Air Force using a lengthy paper trail. I finally decided to go to the ADC for help, and after looking over all of the bullshit paperwork I had been given for basically sneezing, they informed me I had a case for MEO. Once my squadron got wind of this, they quickly moved me to a new section and backdated the date I was given a new supervisor to cover up what had been going on, if you’re thinking that sounds illegal, you would be correct. However, I was happy with the change. That is until my new supervisor snapped and all of a sudden hated me for no reason. In turn she started doing what my previous supervisor did as she gave me paperwork for anything and everything. I was also put on mid shift for about two years so that she would be separated from me, which was superficially a good thing because I didn’t have to deal with her, but at the same time sucked because I have a son that I could no longer sleep next to every night. All jokes aside, she tried to screw with me until the very last day of my enlistment. I had been on terminal leave from the Air Force, and on my final day I stopped in to say bye to everyone and get a paper signed by the Shirt. After I had left, I found out she went to the Shirt to try to get me in trouble, insinuating that my hair was out of regs. Give it up already!

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Kayla recalls a conversation with her friend when she says:

I confront Quinn right before he leaves.

“Why the hell won’t the guys in our platoon ever talk to me anymore?” I ask. “Down at the airfield. What the fuck’s going on? Why do they act like they all hate me?”

And Quinn tells me because he knows he won’t have to deal with the consequences.

“They think you’re a big whore.” Quinn says, looking away. “They think you’re a slut. And they don’t want to have anything to do with you. Because they think you’re a slut.”

“I don’t get it.”

I get it. I’ve been there. God forbid you’re pretty or have guy friends because to everyone else, this means you’re a slut. And in the military, especially at a small base like Dyess, once they think you’re a slut, you’ll always be known as that. I hadn’t even been stationed at my base for a month when I heard a TSgt saying that the Shirt hated me because I was the new dorm toy. Funny thing was, I wasn’t sleeping with anyone in the dorms. Yet up until they day I separated, that’s what people were told about me. People I didn’t even know had heard this about me, including airmen who had just arrived at the base. Kayla didn’t get it, but I do. It’s jealousy.

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Kayla recalls a time during a deployment as she states: And then there was the time I decided to wear mascara to a Bruce Willis concert at Tal Afar. I didn’t think about it beforehand. It was a concert. So I put on the mascara, and I honestly did not think anyone would notice. Everyone noticed.

These few sentences were hysterical to me for the simple fact that I once got reprimanded for wearing eyelashes to work. The regulation states that a female’s makeup should be natural in appearance. I wear eyelashes and all of a sudden I’m violating the Uniform Code of Military Justice? Personally, I like to re-read the paper work I was given that day because the grammatical errors on an “official” military document crack me up. Here I was, smarter than these idiots, but yet standing at attention, getting my ass chewed out for eyelashes, or as they stated on the document, “eyes lashes,” because they had more stripes on their sleeve or higher rank that they used (and abused) to their advantage. Ridiculous as it gets. Kayla felt the same way, but while both of us were treated differently for merely trying to look a little presentable or even feel good about ourselves, Kayla was treated like a slut for wearing mascara. As absurd as that may sound, to the guys in Iraq, they took it as a symbol for her looking to get laid. A female in the military’s appearance does not define her ability to do her job, but for reasons such as this and the pre-judged stereotype I was constantly given, I felt the Air Force and gossip were worse than high school. After graduating high school and joining the Air Force, I had thought that people grew up and that adults acted like adults, but boy was I wrong. Here I was, working with people who were almost old enough to be my mom and they were spreading rumors about me, which is something I still can’t fathom. If I could say anything to them today, I would simply tell them to grow up, but unfortunately they never will.

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Kayla notes exactly when things changed for her: So it was around this time that I really began to think about how I was presenting myself to other people. It was also around this time that I first heard that a female in the Army deployed in Iraq was either a bitch or a slut. That that was a choice we faced. That was when I began to think: I would rather be a bitch.

Similar to Kayla’s reference to being deemed a bitch or a slut, I found out that I also had a reputation being spread about me. With all of the rumors and judgments being made, I decided to embrace them. I found a sign at the mall that was perfect for the situation and proudly hung it on my desk. It stated, “I don’t have an attitude problem, I have a personality you can’t handle.”

I became known as the little blonde girl with the BIG attitude. If attitude was what they wanted, then I made sure as hell that attitude was what they got. That’s when I officially decided to play the game as they call it. I learned over time to pick my battles, but I vowed that I would always stand up for what I believe in, even if that meant standing up for someone else, and even if I’m standing alone. I didn’t fear them and they knew it, and although there were times I felt defeated, I never let them see it.

I got the sense that Kayla had the same mindset after her friend Rivers sexually assaulted her one night. Rather than scream for help or file a formal complaint, she spoke with his supervisor and explained what happened off record. Just as the story goes, the guys in her platoon started spreading rumors and instead of being the victim, she was now a slut who initiated it, based off of the lies Rivers told to avoid getting reprimanded. She now felt isolated and lethargic as she kept to herself and cried everyday. Kayla’s experience with this hit home for me as I felt tear drops hit the page of my book and I recalled the time that I was sexually assaulted as well; a memory I tried to erase. I felt embarrassed, ashamed, and at fault for a crime that I did not commit. Unfortunately, Kayla and I were too afraid to tell anyone; something I wrestle with to this day. Just like Kayla, I decided it was time to make a choice: the choice to be a bitch. You see, the bitch persona allows you to feel numb. You tell yourself you’re fine, when in reality, you’re falling apart. The trick is to not let people see this side of you, only the bitch side. If you don’t let people in, they can’t hurt you any more than you already are.

I find it some-what comical reflecting on some of my experiences because the truth was; I knew my job so well and made sure that I was constantly learning and evolving to know even more than my supervisors about our job. Therefore they couldn’t reprimand me for anything job related. That’s why they had to get creative with provoking me and punishing me. To this day I still don’t understand what happened or why things had become so sour with literally all of my supervisors. Generally I’m not a bitchy person (well on most days), and I purposely try to go out of my way to make my friends feel special or help them if they ever need anything. Everything in each of my shops would be great one day as we all got along and joked, and then I’d come into work the next day and find that my supervisor had snapped as they made it clear to me that they were no longer a friend, but rather an enemy.

As time progressed the situations got worse and the supervisor whom I was extremely close with last month, was now provoking me to the point that I didn’t know what to do. The anxiety would creep up into my throat and suffocate me as I’d be screamed and yelled at for preposterous things. Still, I refused to appear weak in front of them. Although inside I felt defeated and hopeless, I refused to let them know that they had won. This is the turning point for women in the military like Kayla and myself. In order to prevent them from breaking us inside, we had to become ice queens, and I had the coldest heart you could imagine because I had something they lacked: intelligence. I knew what they were doing; they were trying to get me moved to a different section or even kicked out of the military. Still I wondered: what had I done to them to deserve this? I was no longer invited to off-duty office functions. They were trying to alienate me, but I remained close with two of the people in my office, even though they were instructed not to be friends with me (yes the military does this). For instance, I was unable to drive for a year, so anytime I needed to be dropped off somewhere, my best friend took me. I don’t know what I would have done without her by my side in the military. As two alpha females, rather than butt heads, we developed a solid bond and I miss her everyday. However, my chain of command came up with the idea to order her not to drive me anywhere anymore. If I had a medical appointment or something, I would have to walk there; a walk that would have taken me an hour. This was their idea of a punishment. However, we decided to ignore their ridiculous notion and it was never fully pursued again—even though I heard plenty of gossip around the squadron that they agreed with my chain of command.

Airmen who had just gotten to the base would meet me and tell me they’d heard about me before, and I’d think to myself: Ummmmm, what the hell are you talking about, you just got here like two days ago… But literally, just like that, people thought they knew me, had me figured out, and decided they disliked me before they had ever met me, which was all based off of bullshit gossip. Most of the time I brushed it off, but the majority of my military career I didn’t feel like I could trust anyone but myself (with the exception of my best friend of course). It was basically me against the world, and I’ll admit, it sucked. I hated my life, my job, the choices I had made in life, and I even hated myself.

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Kayla admits: Sometimes I feel I have failed horribly. Even here. Even now. With this book. I have somehow failed to express what life in war was like for us. There are so many things that are still really tough for me to discuss. And I keep trying to put my finger on why.

I feel the same way as Kayla. First, I feel like I failed my brothers and sisters because I never physically went to war. Second, I feel like a failure at trying to depict what six years of degradation and sexism was like for me in the military. When I separated from the Air Force I put every single memory in the back of my mind and buried them, but with my independent study being a veteran’s writing workshop, I was forced to dig up all those old memories. I’m not going to sugarcoat it; it hurts to relive some of these memories. Memories that you couldn’t fathom, with outcomes that would most likely leave your jaw dropped in disbelief, and although I’m not ready to share them yet, I will someday in a full memoir of my own; perhaps for another young female in the military to identify with and find comfort in. As long as females continue to let themselves be treated this way in the military, the longer it’s going to scar young female veterans and portray that sexism isn’t the problem, but rather the female’s problem for “asking for it” as Kayla puts it. Being pretty in the military, I had males knocking on my door the day I arrived at Dyess, trying to get to know the new girl they had already heard about. So from day one until approximately day 2007 when I separated, I was called a slut more times than I can count. I won’t lie to you it gets lonely at the top as you try to convince yourself that you’re better than this and that people are only saying nasty things about you because they’re jealous, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. It still hurts.

This past Christmas, my last supervisor messaged me on Facebook to say, “Hey lady! I had random thoughts about you this month…could be cause my kid’s been making me watch bad girls club and Jada reminded me of you…she’s the fittest and a bad bitch (in a good way). Anyway, I feel I never made things right with you but I do hope you and your son are living to the fullest. Happy Holidays to you both!” I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Was this her way of trying to apologize, and not only that but two years after I separated? To me, this was nowhere near an apology and I’m not sure that I would ever accept her apology anyway, so I chose not to respond to her. I’ve moved on with my life. Personally, I think she sent that because she feels guilty, and honestly, she should. I never deserved to go through the things I did; nobody deserves to. The Air Force taught me a lot and I’m a stronger person for it. I now have new hopes and goals for myself, and I finally feel like I have a purpose in life again.

I recently found out that even after I separated, things were still being spread about me. Although I should’ve expected it, it never even crossed my mind that people were going to talk shit about where I’d end up in life after I had left. Bets were placed and they gave me three options: I was going to get knocked up and have a bunch of kids, I was going to marry an old guy to take care of me, or I was going to start doing hardcore porn. It’s nice to know what people really think about you! But as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words. I have already accomplished so much in school, and will continue to do so, while they’re still stuck gossiping about others to make themselves feel better about their shitty, unhappy lives. So who’s the real winner? Misery loves company; they might be able to attack your dignity, but they can never take away your intelligence or education.

Through my explorations and comparisons, I found that although I still haven’t been able to forgive the people and the Air Force for the things I experienced, I have been able to chip off some of the bitterness. Forgiveness will take time and patience as I continue to explore my experiences through my writing. In just a short semester, I realized that my story does matter, and the sexual trauma I endured is dead weight that I need to alleviate through therapy such as writing, and redefining my self-worth. Although this won’t always be easy as I still have memories that are painful to remember, I will continue to make progress and find my place within the veteran writing canon, even if that means creating this place for myself and other veterans that don’t fit the societal norm of the trauma hero. Just like I needed to find out, they too will need to realize their story matters and they shouldn’t feel ashamed to share it.

Glossary of Air Force/Military Acronyms and Terminology 

• CYA – Cover your ass
• AFB – Air Force Base
• Dirtbag – A lazy person who doesn’t do their job, often placing blame on others
• Paper Trail – Negative paper work against you that is placed in your file and used against you for evaluations
• ADC – Area Defense Council (paralegals)
• MEO – Military Equal Opportunity
• Shirt – First Sergeant who assists the commander and deals with any misconduct
• Regs – Rules and Regulations as stated in the Uniform Code of Military Justice
• TSgt – Technical Sergeant equivalent of the rank E-6