On Courage
..strength in the face of fear, pain, or grief
After spending over two decades in the Navy, I can confirm that military life is hard. It takes a certain amount of courage, drive, determination and confidence simply to succeed. In Hiding for My Life: Being Gay in the Navy, I wrote about an important skillset I was taught in bootcamp known as military bearing. It “is like turning on a silent force field. Emotions and vulnerability become the enemy and are quickly neutralized. Anxiety and fear are masked by standing a little straighter and, when allowed to, speaking more directly and in a deeper voice. Military bearing is a mind-over-matter tactic...”
Because of military bearing, I learned from day one to shut down my fears, emotions, and vulnerability and get the job done. It is a crucial survival skill that gives one courage when going into battle or emergency situations but I now believe it is one that is harmful to being fully human.
In 2004, I was deployed onboard the aircraft carrier USS John C. Stennis on a six-month Western Pacific (WestPac) cruise and one foggy and rainy evening, we were located off of the islands of Iwo Jima doing flight training. I was leaving the squadron’s Ready Room to go back to my office, when I passed four of my squadron’s aviators who were heading to the flight deck in their flight gear and helmets. I nodded to one of my favorite pilots, Z-Man, “be safe out there, Commander.” He smiled, nodded, and replied, “Always, Senior.”
Mind-over-matter, I could see that his military bearing was engaged and was not looking forward to this flight. The weather was rough. It was dark out. It was only training. It was risky. But the military trains in all kinds of dangerous environments to be prepared for, well, all kinds of environments. It takes immense courage to be launched off and land on a carrier, and also to work on the flight deck, especially at night and in inclement weather. (Side note: I was catapulted off of the carrier in a C-2 Greyhound airplane and taken to Hawaii a few months earlier for an eye problem and let’s just say, once was enough.)
Less than an hour later, “River City!”—a shipboard communication blackout in the event of a casualty or crisis—blared through the intercom system. I intuitively knew it was “my guys,” so I left my office and headed back up the ladders to the Ready Room to check, when I saw my Executive Officer (XO) walking toward me. His face was ashen and serious. “It’s Z-Man, Senior,” he said. “Come with me.” I was the most senior enlisted female but also the senior Yeoman (administrative professional) in the squadron, so this next part would be my responsibility and I followed my XO to the Admiral’s office. My military bearing kicked in and just like I had been trained, mind-over-matter, I shut down my emotions and got to work. For the next several hours, the XO and I gathered data and prepared four casualty reports that would be used to notify family members back home of our perished aviators—of their perished loved ones.
Several hours later and around 3am, I stood sobbing in the shower. I got out, dried off, and dressed in my sweats. One of my sister Chief Petty Officers from another squadron was leaning with her back against the sinks, waiting for me. She walked over and put her arms around me and I allowed myself to fall apart—the first but not the last time I would fall apart in the coming weeks.
Courage takes on many forms, and one is certainly as an aviator in the U.S. Navy who is flying in inclement weather at sea. Yet in looking at it from a different angle, being present with oneself while walking through tragedy and grief might be the most courageous thing any human will ever encounter.
In Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words, David Whyte writes, “To be courageous is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences. To be courageous is to stay close to the way we are made.”
Two years later in 2006, I had been serving my country for more than half of my life when I took off my uniform for the last time. That also took courage, as being in the Navy was all that I knew. Without knowing it at the time, I now see that facing that fear enrolled me into a different type of boot camp—the one where I would be doing the hard work of coming out from hiding and writing a memoir about my time in the Navy as a gay sailor; the one where I would have the courage to stay close to the way I was made.
This, my dear friend, IS the work.
xo, K
p.s. I’d be remiss if I didn’t include my other favorite courage quote: “You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” Eleanor Roosevelt
How do I know so much about hiding? Well, everyone hides—yep, even you. Hiding is a human condition that takes on many forms, many of which I’ve faced and shed. You can read about the consequences I endured while hiding during my Navy career in my memoir, Hiding for My Life: Being Gay in the Navy, available now at your favorite bookseller. Visit www.Hideology.com for more information.
Karen, have you read Conundrum? Another courageous coming-out-of-hiding memoir, defiantly brave in its time (1974!)
Eleanor and Hick. I read another last year too. Remarkable woman.