Their hostility was barely contained

When I was in college I almost joined ROTC. Wooed by my father's adventures in the Army, and seeking a sense of belonging I did not find in HS, I thought the Army might be the answer for me. My college roommate's mom found out about our interest in the Army and instilled us with fear and dread so fierce we forgot the whole thing.

My one year anniversary of being in Vicenza will be in here in about a month. I gradually increased my direct exposure to soldiers and all that goes along with that. There have been times that things have gone faster than I expected. Like the time my boss felt confident enough for me to present to 200 hundred soldiers recently back from Afghanistan. Of course I did a great job but, I won't soon forget the terror I felt when all those uniforms stared at me.

These days I don't think twice about standing up in front of a room full of soldiers. Yet new challenges appear that shake me out of my comfort zone often. Challenges that make me silently thank my roommate's mom for talking me out of ROTC.

Today I found myself on the other side of the table in a Chain of Command meeting. I was not providing them with essential information for their unit or company. I was there to advocate for a soldier in their company who wants to move to another base. They want her out of the military. Full Stop. They are bearing down on her with the full force of what I heard female soldiers in infantry units dealt with in the bad old days.

Those guys were on their best behavior. Soldiers guys that intended to chew her out today. That was their plan until I showed up. My presence held them accountable for each word that fell from their lips. Their hostility, however, was barely contained.They don't want her to be there. They didn't want me to be there as they told her how hard it would be for her to stay in the unit and pull her own weight. I shielded her today from what would have been a very unpleasant and unfair experience. Life sucks for her right now, but my actions today made it suck just a little less. I will fall asleep with her on my mind tonight. I will drift off peacefully knowing I helped to get through today.

Steam so thick I could barely breathe

I lead an international multicultural life. I live in Italy and work on an American Military base. Want more proof? Fine. Here's your proof. The girl who does Ryan's Italian, German, Swedish, Irish toes is Serbian. Sandra, the Serbian also does my toes, fingers and bikini. Last week while getting my toes done, she told me, in Italian, that she still didn't know how to operate the Turkish bath. She wrinkled her nose and winked at me when she said it. Wide eyed I leaned over and whispered,"What's a Turkish bath?" I have heard of Turkish bathhouses and the like but, this was not that kind of place. She described a fantasy worthy steam room that left you feeling refreshed, showered even. "I want one.", I said before she finished describing it fully. "When can I get one?" She thought for a moment then asked if I wanted a massage after. Yes, why yes I did want a massage after my Turkish bath.

The date was set and I arrived ten minutes early to prepare for the experience. After a brief wait, Sandra asked me to follow her into a pleasant room with a stand up shower. It sort of looked like one of those futuristic space pods or a disabled person shower. There was just enough room for one person. Sandra told me she would knock on the glass when I had five minutes left. I slid the doors shut and steam rushed in at me. I began to think this might have been a waste of time and money as the steam was not much more then the clothes steamer my family sent me for Christmas. My mind drifted to the female soldier who called me Sergeant Mac today. What a laugh that was. I corrected her but, I think she thought I was just being informal when I told her to call me Mickie. That lady thinks I am a solider. What a hoot! That's when it happened. I opened my eyes and it was white hot everywhere. The little hearts I drew on the glass were gone. The steam was so thick I could barely breathe. I started to panic could I suffocate from steam? Would a die a steamy death? I took several deep breaths and calmed down, enjoying the hot clouds as they entered my lungs and freed my pores from gross toxins. I stood there naked sweating for a long, long time when Sandra gave me the five minute warning. How long had I been in here I wondered an hour, a few days? It was about ten minutes.

The monk with the toilet brush

Ryan's airsoft team is part of our Italian family. One of them invited the key members of the team to their wedding. Ryan only thought to mention we were attending an Italian wedding a week prior to the event. I have only been to one other Italian wedding. It was about 15 years ago and I had a different sort of Italian family then, but they welcomed me into their hearts just as warmly. It was a delightful evening on retired ranch. There so many happy people in such a beautiful place. Even the brown pit bull with the pink bow seemed happy that day.

That story is for another day. As I stared at Ryan trying to get him to understand that I needed to go shopping immediately he made an astute observation. I have plenty of cocktail dresses. There was no need to go shopping for something to wear. A few days later he decided he didn't want to go the wedding after all. Saved me the shopping trip. Our weekend was busy enough without adding a wedding into the mix. He gave money for the present and signed the card.

Things changed again when we had pizza with the team and they insisted we attend. I began putting together my look in my head as I sat in front of my pizza. There were drinks after pizza. The bunch of us strolled through Piazza dei Signori talking about nothing in particular when I spotted some friends from the base. We ended up chatting well past midnight. They convinced us to go to the reception the next day.

The reception was at Villa Canal. Even the parking lot of this place is beautiful. The eight of us stood around trying to find a way into the close knit affair. Ryan and I hung back leaving it to the Italians to navigate the cultural morass. One of us, I can't be sure who, made eye contact with the Bride and we were in! We handed over the massive box with a beautiful vase inside. We all told her how beautiful she looked and found a table. We took turns going to the bar and enjoying the evening when the guy dressed as monk began chanting. His wig was lopsided and his robe way too short. Then I saw the toilet brush and the bowl in his arm.

Some traditions involve rice, bubbles or petals. At this party, they hired a guy dressed as a monk to throw water at guests using a toilet bowl brush. He chanted a blessing as he gave Ryan a few extra splashes to his groin. At least we got the family jewels blessed.

Hey, there's a bra in here Part I

This weekend I accompanied Ryan on one of his Airsoft adventures. The game was a a simulation of a British invasion of a Chinese village.

I was reluctant to go on this adventure but, Ryan told me I didn't have to participate this time. Last time he handed me gun, some beebees, and told me it would hurt really bad if I got shot. He said this game was being played in a beautiful field. I imagined a remarkable field in a valley, nestled in the mountains. We would set up camp in this idyll and I would frolic in knee high flowers with purple petals so vibrant that they would stop in me in my tracks. I would whisper to myself, "This is breathtaking! I am so lucky to see all this magnificent beauty!" After my stroll I would roll around in our tent, eating sandwiches and fruit while Ryan commanded the British forces to march into the Chinese village.

To my surprise my fantasy was grossly out of touch with the reality of the weekend. Friday night we winded our way up the side of a mountain. The temperature dropped as we made are way up the switchbacks at a speedy clip. At the camp we met up with Ryan's teammates. We were in the "enemy" camp; a bad idea the night before the game. Giacomo, one of Ryan's teammates that we socialize with away from Airsoft, saw me and gasped in horror. "What on earth are you doing here? He brought you here?!" He said it as though I was a newborn baby wearing nothing but a diaper and summer bonnet. I smiled nervously as Ryan hurried me into the car.

At the proper camp, with the correct team, Ryan quickly set up our tent. We would sleep here tonight and head to the game site, AKA my idyll, in the morning. The British forces, they numbered 120, were preparing for the brief. Everyone was already dressed in their fatigues. Some of them practiced their British accents on me. I smiled politely.

Once Ryan set up the tent. I crawled in and got comfy while Ryan went to the briefing. There was a babbling brook nearby. The sound made me feel cold although I was perfectly warm. The next morning I woke up to distinctly male voices chanting, "Vafancullo!" It translates loosely to go fuck yourself up the ass. The guys were posing for pictures and instead of saying cheese, they said go fuck yourself..up the ass. It made them laugh because, as I later found out, their 120 voices echoed through the entire valley.

When Ryan and his buddies were done posing, it was time to pack up and get moving. I was still in the haze of the early morning when I stumbled out of the tent to look for a place to pee. When I got back Ryan was dismantling the tent. A few of his friends were within earshot when he found my bra. "There's a bra in here..." He said it as if he wasn't married and his wife hadn't spent the night snuggled tightly against him in a 8ftx8ft tent. Yes Ryan, it's my bra. He looked around and cradled it as if it was something illegal, yet precious and should be hidden from view when he handed it to me.

They flinch when I say vagina

Who knew saying the word vagina would make people so uncomfortable. By people I mean male soldiers. Every Tuesday at 9:30 you can find me briefing 10 to 50 soldiers who are new to the installation about the importance of obtaining consent before sexual activity, and dispelling myths about sexual assault. I wish I could tell you these guys, and a few girls, are excited to hear what I have to say. I can't though, because they are not. They have heard this information countless times before. At least one of them doses off while I am talking. I have sought to make the 45 minutes they spend with me more interesting for them and for me.

They snicker and complain when I emphasize the importance of consent. "Do I need girls to sign a contract before I sleep with them?", one soldier asked. His battle buddies high-fived him in approval. Their outrageous responses to sexual violence often challenge my authority and control of the room. Some of them mistakenly take my femaleness as shyness. Luckily for me I am not easily embarrassed, but to their surprise they are.

Last week I had a large class. There were about 45 soldiers, of these about four of them were women. The female soldiers tend to be very quiet during my briefs. I think the topic of sexual assault is to close to home for most. I got to the part of my presentation where I tell them there were 4 male-on-male sexual assaults on this installation last year. This week that fact got their attention. Many of them stared at me bewildered. "But how?", they said to me silently with their eyes wide. The female soldiers making eye contact with me for the first time. The sleepy fellow in the front row straightening himself out of his slumped over position.

I had their attention, and I intended to keep it. That's when I said it,"You don't have to have a vagina to be raped." A few of them flinched at the word vagina. Many of them blinked at me in quick succession. The women cautiously looked around prepared for a sign of potential danger. I responded to the tension in the room with my personal brand of candor,"Oops, I said the 'v' word." I looked around, "Is everyone ok?" The women were smirking. A few of them smiled at me. Yeah, I definitely have their attention now.

And then there were four

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. In my role I am responsible for using this month to spearhead activities to raise awareness of this issue in the community. I have a number of initiatives happening, but none of them as controversial as the Public Serve Announcement on AFN is turning out to be.

For those of you unfamiliar with AFN, it's the Armed Forces Network. It is the military's TV station. They show the most popular shows from home. For example Dancing with the Stars, Glee, NCIS, Grey's Anatomy, Oprah and Dr. Phil are on heavy rotation. Instead of commercials for detergent, cars or cell phones I see information relevant to Soldiers, Airmen, Seamen and Marines. PSAs on how to deal with PTSD, Stop-loss pay, suicide prevention and messages from the field.

I was given the green light to produce a PSA to address sexual assault in Army. Sexual assault is no less important than PTSD. That's where the post High School students come in. I thought it would be exciting to work them. Most of these kids have lived all over the world. I am interested in their perspective.

Not as many as I thought jumped at the opportunity to be on AFN. My core group is four young men. That was a surprise. I expected more girls would be interested, but the subject matter may have intimidated them.

I assembled my group and tasked them with coming up with a solid idea to present to the Chief of AFN at our installation. Our meeting was yesterday. My group of young men have chosen to write and act in a skit about a male-on-male sexual assault. I don't know if this community is ready for this but, so far all the powers that be (full bird colonels and the like) are impressed with these young men as well as their idea. I wait with baited breath for the script. It's due on Monday.

My chain of command voluntold me to be here

I'm teaching a class on sexual assault prevention this week. There are seven soldiers in my class, and it's my job to teach them how to be an emotional support for soldiers who are victims of sexual assault. They were voluntold to be here. It's extra work for them. Work most of them do not want to do. Work that their chain of command has tasked them to do.

I spent the afternoon teaching soldiers who are taught not to have feelings to empathize with victims who have experienced sexual trauma. Each time I say "feelings" they look like deer caught in headlights; ready to make a break for it in any direction where I am not. It looks like they receive a jolt of electric shock every time I ask them how something makes them feel.

Getting them to see the difference between sex offenders and homosexuals is a challenge. They see them as equals. They say the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell will put them in peril. They are terrified to be objectified by men. Welcome to the real world gentleman. The fairer half of the species lives with the reality of being objectified by men all of our childbearing years. And it may come as a great shock to many of them, but most of the gay boys will NOT be beating down the doors to sleep with most of them.

One soldier told me that he dreaded the moment his daughter would see two women holding hands at Army family functions. Curious about the depth of what I perceived to be his ignorance, I asked if he thought his daughter would become gay if she saw two women hold hands. His answer surprised me. He was concerned she would see women holding hands and she would think it was right to be gay. I asked if he thought it was wrong to be gay. He said, "Yes it is. At least in my house." His classmates chimed in their affirmations. "Yes, I agree. I'm Catholic," said one.

I have my work cut out for me.