The Very Few, The Very Proud, And The Very Brave (Part 1)

Stats time! Keep in mind these are approximations.

There are roughly 325.7 million people in our country. About 0.1% of the population currently serves in my branch of the military. Of that, 4.6% are black women and less than half of us hold a leadership rank.

To break it down even further, 3.6% of my command are black women in a position of leadership: I am one of two in my division. To say we are few and far between would be an understatement: I’ve actually only met three black women in a position of senior leadership face to face in my entire eleven year career.

I bring this up because I am often asked what it is like being a woman in the military. To that I often answer with:

“I don’t know.”

This is because I’m not just a woman in the military; I’m a black woman in the military. Look at those stats: I’m basically a unicorn. Now I’m not down playing other women’s military experience because they aren’t black. All I am saying is my experience is different.

Being a woman in the military carries its own special stereotypes: add black women stereotypes to it and that culminates in a laundry list of things I have to shut down just to be judged on my own merit.

Here are a few of my favorites:

We want special treatment

If we have rank we probably flirted, or worse, to get to the top

We are easy

We get pregnant to get out of deployment

We don’t want to get our hands dirty

Black women are angry

Black women have attitude problems

Black women are aggressive and hard to work with

I could go on and on, but you could just google it. I know, I know…

If I just shut it down from the jump, I won’t have these issues. The military is a transient lifestyle: you stay somewhere from 2 to 4 years and then you transfer. On top of that, not everyone is on the same rotation: every time someone rotates you might have to reestablish yourself. Meaning every 2-4 years you get a new boss, coworkers, or subordinates that may have never met you before. In my career I’ve worked with, for, or lead everyone from good ol boys, hippies, homosexuals, and foreign nationals to people who have never been face to face with a black person before. I’ve been many people’s first black friend.

So what’s it like being a female leader in the military? Well, it’s not for the faint of heart. There is a lot of picking and choosing of battles and a significant learning curve. Me in uniform is almost a 180 degree shift from me outside of uniform. I have the benefit of my rank which I use like a shield at times, because me at home doesn’t people. On the other hand, me in uniform has to lead, which means peopling. My uniform is my armor and, depending on which one I wear, shows off my accomplishments with my rows of ribbons and medals. My uniform provides me a level of back up that regular clothes don’t.

So how do I fight the stereotyping? It’s a minefield of contradictions. I have to work harder than most, but not care too much. I have to make sure my voice is heard, but not to the point where I am categorized as a mad black woman. I have to stand my ground and be firm, but not to the extent of having an attitude.  I have to smart, but not considending. Last, but not least in the words of my father:

“I have to prove them wrong.”

Every day I put on this uniform I have to prove each of those stereotypes wrong to be taken seriously and let me tell you it’s exhausting. I had a coworker ask me once if I felt that our work place was sexist. To this I told him:

“I have joined one of the biggest boys clubs in America and no matter how you slice it there is going to be a certain level of sexism.”

Granted we all get paid based on our rank, but that doesn’t mean we don’t all get judged based on that. I have to know more, stand taller and work harder. Lord forbid I correct a male counterpart in public: you can see the little flinch of male pride. It’s so minute, sometimes you can’t even notice it unless you’re looking. Sometimes you can literally see them puff up their chests. When this happens all it tells me is to not back down, because if I do I’ll lose the ground I had gained.

I have to because if I show any sign of weakness they will walk all over you. You can’t be too nice or you’re sensitive, because women are emotional creatures and they are too empathetic to lead. Trust I have had subordinates try to play to my sensitivities with sob stories about ailments and stressors to get out of things. Would they try it to my male counter parts, probably not because they don’t play that shit. So why assume I would?

So you’re probably reading this like ok… then be a hard ass all the time right? No, because you also have to know when to walk away. Sometimes the best way of proving them wrong is letting them fail. Kinda like what some moms do when they feel underappreciated, they just stop doing stuff till you realize all they do. When I have to resort to just letting the chips lie where they lie, I always enjoy giving a “Yo stupid ass look” versus saying “I told you so.” Because, let’s face it, no one likes the “I told you so.” Why say that when a well-placed look or “mmmhmmm” does the trick?

At the end of the day, no matter how tired I am, I have to remind myself that I’m not doing this for me, but for all of the black girls that will come after me. Because after all, we are the very few, the very proud, and the very brave.