#LikeAGirl (part 1) -- This morning, I said goodbye to my oldest daughter as she set out to begin her new career as a US Army Field Artillery Officer.  She is one of the first women allowed to serve at a tactical level, leading troops in howitzer batteries, performing as a fire support officer, and doing everything that men have been allowed to do over the 240-year history of the Artillery Corps.  Her opportunity represents a tremendous milestone for a society that claims to believe in equal rights for women, but has not always practiced what it has preached.  Her entry on active duty also coincides with the 68th anniversary of the day that Florence Blanchfield became the first female @USArmy officer, so I thought it was worthwhile to step back and look at women’s rights, and what it means to act #LikeAGirl.

First Female Army Officer, 1947

US Army Captain Michelle Hughes, being honored by President Reagan for her achievements as a paratrooper, 1985

As women, we are told, from the moment we're old enough to dream, that we’re different.  Our differences are rarely described as possibilities.  Instead, they’re expressed as limitations.  When I was commissioned as a Military Intelligence Officer in 1979, the first thing I was told was that I was being held to a lower standard than the guys, that Congress had chosen to limit my assignment options, and that my leadership opportunities would be constrained as a result.  How’s that for an encouraging way to start a new career!

I then had to fight to get special training that was automatically given to male officers.  Airborne School, where soldiers learn how to jump out of perfectly good airplanes, fully loaded for combat, was one of such opportunity.  Once I finally got to the school at Ft. Benning, GA, I was told day in and day out that I had only been allowed in so that I could “get the badge;”  I would never receive an airborne (Paratrooper) assignment; and I would never actually practice what I was being trained to do. 

After calling in every connection I had, I then managed to get myself posted to Ft. Bragg, NC, the “Home of the Airborne,” but the privilege came with caveats.  I was informed that I could only serve in certain units, that the usual junior officer leadership positions would not be open to me, and I would just have to be satisfied with what I was “given” – that I was lucky to be there at all.  Never mind that I was one of the strongest runners in my unit, had passed the men’s standards on the physical fitness qualification tests, and was academically near the top of my class in intelligence training. 

In my performance evaluations during those first few years, I was told I was too pretty to be successful; that I looked too young; that my troops would never fully accept a women leader; that I was just going to eventually get married and have children, so the Army was not going to make an investment in my future by ranking me against my peers according to my performance; and that I was only there because leadership needed a few token women to show off to visiting Congressmen.  None of these things had anything to do with how I well was doing my job or accomplishing my military mission.  Regardless, everyone who rated me based on these factors thought they were completely justified in doing so.  Incidentally, my roommate, who was also a top performer, was told that SHE was too unattractive and looked too old to ever gain the respect of her troops – our Battalion Commander thought that was a perfectly legitimate basis for evaluation as well.  When I was selected as one of the first cohort of women to be assigned to the elite, 82^nd Airborne Division, male junior officers in the Division actively and openly conspired to do everything possible to ensure that I and the dozen or so women officers who were selected along with me would fail.  It may seem crazy now, but back then, (in the pre-Tailhook days -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tailhook_scandal) no one in my unit indicated they thought this was wrong.

More than 30 years later, as a Senior U.S. Government civilian in Afghanistan, I found myself working for one of those guys, who was by then a three-star general in charge of training the Afghan National Security Forces.  When he realized I had been one of that first cohort of women in the 82^nd that he had so actively opposed, he apologized.   Since that time, he told me, he had come to realize the contributions that women make to our Armed Forces.  He mentioned the skilled military women he had relied on throughout the course of his career, the personality traits they brought to the command environment, the different perspectives they brought to strategic and operational planning, their grit, their drive, and their moral and physical courage, which he had seen firsthand in Afghanistan and Iraq.  He told me this was why, in one of the most challenging environments in the world for gender equality, he had made integration of women into the Afghan National Army and Police one of his top priorities. (His actions, during my time working for him, bore this out – it wasn’t just talk; he was living it.)  After our discussion, whenever we met with senior Afghan security officials, he would introduce me to his counterparts as one of the women who had taught him how wrong he had been.  In succinct operational terms, he would explain to them why, if Afghanistan's security forces were to succeed, they had to leverage the talent and dedication of Afghan women.  

When I was growing up, no one ever encouraged me to do the things that made me a trailblazer.  There was no Title IX – when I was preparing to take the West Point physical qualification test, I had to join the boys’ cross-country team in order to train, but I wasn’t allowed to compete.  Cheerleading was almost my only opportunity to earn a varsity letter, essential if I was to be competitive for the Military Academy or an ROTC scholarship.  Cheerleading was also one of the few activities where I could build the confidence I needed to perform in front of a crowd.  No one encouraged my goal of becoming a military leader and a national security professional.  I was seen as a bit odd.  "Why would a girl would want to do such a thing?" I was asked.  (Over and over again)  Was I some kind of "women’s libber?”  The question was NOT meant as a compliment.

That was then.  This is now.  In the U.S. at least, the legal impediments to women's equality have mostly been stripped away, although cultural impediments remain.  We have a leading Presidential candidate who is a woman.  We have women generals and admirals at all levels in our armed services.  We’ve had so many women cabinet secretaries by now that their selection barely merits notice.  The Secretary of the Air Force is a woman.  Women have served honorably in our modern wars; two have earned Silver Stars for valor.

But I want to say this: we are still not there.  Real parity doesn’t yet exist.  On a personal level, I often  find myself, even now, the only woman in the room for national security discussions who has any real operational experience.  I'm usually the only woman who has a seat at the table and a speaking role.  My daughters, one of whom is an enlisted Marine, continue to be belittled and harassed by their colleagues.  Their presence – their right to be wearing the same uniform and the same rank – continues to be questioned by guys whose asses they regularly kick in physical, academic, and leadership tests.  As the brilliant ad campaign #LikeAGirl by “Always” so beautifully points out, girls today are continually reminded of their limitations.  Almost from the day they are born.  Despite my own best efforts, my girls -- a soldier and a Marine -- are no exception.

Enough already.  We need to set a better example for the rest of the world – it’s time to get with the program, and halt the inequality.