I Grew Up Army... But I Was a Girl

Some people grow up around sports. Others grow up around music or family businesses.

I grew up around camouflage, combat boots, and men who had stories they rarely told.

My childhood wasn't spent pretending to be a princess. It was spent jumping off the arms of the living room chairs, yelling "Airborne!" before I hit the floor. In my mind, that was completely normal.

I grew up singing Blood on the Risers and The Ballad of the Green Berets long before I understood the history behind the lyrics.

One of my earliest mentors was a sniper from the 5th Special Forces Group. His closest friends included a Vietnam tunnel rat and a Navy SEAL. They weren't just veterans who occasionally visited. They were family. The kind of people who showed up at birthdays, holidays, backyard barbecues, and weekends around the house.

As a little girl, I didn't think there was anything unusual about that.

If someone wore a Green Beret, I simply assumed they were another uncle.

The conversations around me weren't about celebrities or professional athletes. They were about service, sacrifice, loyalty, and taking care of the people beside you. Those lessons were taught quietly, often without anyone realizing they were teaching them.

Looking back, I realize those men helped shape my understanding of honor, responsibility, and resilience far more than they probably knew.

But there was one small problem.

I was a girl.

Today, people see women serving in combat arms, earning Ranger tabs, flying helicopters, and serving in roles that were once closed to them. That wasn't the Army I grew up with.

The Army of the late 1980s and early 1990s was a very different place. Combat occupations were almost entirely closed to women. Becoming a sniper, Green Beret, Ranger, or serving in many front-line combat roles wasn't simply difficult for women; it was effectively impossible because those career fields were not open to them.

As a kid, I didn't know all of the policies. I just knew I loved that world and admired the people in it. Had I been born a boy, I probably would have dreamed of following in their footsteps. Instead, I understood early that some doors simply weren't available to me.

That never changed how I saw the military community.

It simply meant I often stood on the edge of it instead of feeling like I truly belonged inside it.

Years later, I married a man that became a soldier. Jeremy "Jay" Seals served with the 101st Airborne Division, and military life became more than my upbringing. It became my own. I experienced deployments, PCS moves, military hospitals, and eventually the unimaginable reality of becoming the surviving spouse of an active-duty service member.

Today, I advocate for service members, veterans, military spouses, caregivers, and surviving families.

People sometimes ask why I care so deeply about these issues.

The answer is simple.

This isn't a cause I discovered as an adult.

It's the world I grew up in.

The boots, the camouflage, the stories, the songs, the values, and the people all became part of who I am long before I ever realized advocacy would become my life's work.

I may never have worn the uniform, but the military has been woven into the fabric of my life for as long as I can remember.

And maybe that's why I've never been able to walk away when military families needed someone willing to speak up.

Because in my heart, they've always been family.