So, I have been in the military for 11 years now. I was a “wayward” youth who desperately needed some direction and I was thoughtful enough to recognize the fact that I needed an outward force to give me that direction. I also needed the money. Let’s be real: they were talking free medical and your girl is blind as a bat.
I wanted to get out of Chicago. At the time I was living off 95th on the Southside. I didn’t know where I wanted to go and I was tired of the college party lifestyle; I had been doing it I was 16. I was approaching my 20s and, if I was gonna follow my “supposed” life plan, I had to get my shit together. Also, I was pretty sure I was a borderline lost cause in my parents’ eyes; or, at the very least, they were getting fed up. I was supposed to be thinking about my future, my career, and I had no idea where to start. I was juggling two full time jobs, a full class list, a love, no sleep, and trying not to do shit that was slowly taking over my other responsibilities.
So I walked to the nearest recruiting office and signed up. Two weeks later I was in boot camp and almost 11 years later I’m back here. I had only planned on staying in for 4 years, but I got promoted, got paid more and so started my military career. In the military I found my niche.
It was straight forward: this is what we need done and here’s the deadline. There was no coddling or hand holding for me. It was “what you see is what you got,” until I was put in a position of leadership. It was kind of like that moment in the game of life where you have to choose whether you go to school or start the in the job market, except I had to go the job market route.
When I first got to my first command way, way back in 2007, I was the first of manys (why that’s not a word I dunno, because it should it be) for my work shop, first female, first black person, and first telecomm specialist. Which was cool starting off: we were all the same rank, the playing field was relatively level. It was smooth sailing once they realized my feathers weren’t easily ruffled, until it was time to promote from within. When it came down to it, I ended up being chosen and I got put in charge of the guys who showed me the ropes.
It was a trial by fire, to say the least. I was no longer their peer: I was their supervisor. I had to reestablish my dominance. I no longer was cool; I was that trick who took their job and I probably did something scandalous to get there. Which seems to be a common theme whenever women get promoted over men in the military, but that’s a different topic. That wasn’t the case: I was just better at managing then they were. The process I went through to assert that dominance, it hardened me into an effective, no nonsense leader who got shit done. This seemed to work very well as I transferred from command to command. My lack of hand holding approach worked for about 8 years.
8 years into my military career, my leadership methods needed to be realigned. Not in the sense that it was ineffective: I was a tad abrasive. What basically happened was, I was slapped in the face with concepts called trigger words and safe spaces. I had seen it on social media, but the military was its own unique subculture and certain things don’t touch it right? Wrong.
Apparently I needed to learn how to hand hold and coddle. Did I mention I don’t people? Apparently when you become aware of these trigger words and safe spaces, you must people. You have to empathize with things that you may deem trivial and I rarely have the motivation to sympathize. Now I have to people, and let me tell you this shit ain’t no joke. There should be a book on how to not trigger people or least a list of things not to say.
I thought all this was just a phase. I had myself convinced we were going through a sensitive moment, that we were just in our feelings and then we would toughen up again. I was OK until my supervisor came to me with some concerns about my approach.
APPARENTLY…. Some of my trainees felt that I thought they were stupid, based on the look on my face when they asked me a question, and they found it offensive and off putting. These individuals said my facial expression to a question was offensive, because, heaven forbid, I actually call them all types of stupid. Mind you, I’m not talking an eye roll, exasperated sigh facial expression where you can clearly tell how I feel. It was merely a stare and maybe a couple of blinks, not even a side eye, and I can side eye with the best of them. Oh how I want to side eye some of these fools, and I’m not talking a mere slight side eye, but I am talking looking out my ear hole level side eye. But no: because I don’t want to trigger someone with my nonverbal communication. I digress, his advice to me was when I felt my face make such a blank expression take a deep breath and reevaluate my facial response. This man said FACIAL RESPONSE. You know what my response was?
I was blinked, I was taken aback. The nerve, I clutched my metaphorical pearls and said in my most bougie voice, “You want me to what now?”