Image courtesy of Roadmatics.wordpress.com

We are all familiar with the incredible demands of military service. The men and women who survive training and beyond are symbols of all America stands for. Their awesome amount of sacrifice and dedication is mind-blowing. As television, and I expect personal experience for some, has shown, all family members or friends with ties to these soldiers are filled with immense pride and awe.

Unfortunately, the heart-warming scene of a mother, father, sister and brother embracing with wide smiles as they wave goodbye to their loved ones doesn’t always hold true. The ugly side of war is not a new concept, and neither is the ugly side (or rather lack) of support. Have you ever met someone ashamed of a person who decided to join the military?

Ashamed may be a strong word, but Liz Messenger has found herself struggling with her brother’s choice to join the army for the past 15 months. When money for college lured her brother into service, Liz tried to be proud. He was doing a great thing, right? Time has led Liz to believe that’s not the case.

As children, Liz and Matt were inseparable. Even when the two went off to different colleges, they saw each other every other week. When a tight budget dried up college funds for the both of them, Liz turned to loans, Matt turned to the army. Now, Liz is lucky to see her brother every three or four months.

Liz said sacrificing time with her brother would be easier if she could believe in the cause of the problem. But what was there for her to believe in?

“Everyone is always telling me what a great thing he’s doing and what great lessons he’ll learn,” Liz said. “The truth is he never needed to learn any serious lessons in the first place. He was already a good person. He needed money, and now he’s sold his life away.”

Since Matt first joined the army last year, he’s risen through the ranks and could soon be named an officer, a position that would require even more time from the 22-year-old. Sadly for Liz, Matt’s mind is made-up.

“He actually likes the army, which I guess I should be happy about too, but I don’t know how to feel,” Liz said. “I feel like I can’t support something he did for money, something that’s left a hole in our family.”

If offered a chance to be an officer, Matt plans to take it. Liz said she’ll find a way to cope, but isn’t sure she can let go of the anger. The relationship between the two has suffered, but Liz hopes someday they can get back to where they once were.

“He’s my brother and my best friend,” she said. “I love him. Even though I can’t say I like or accept his decision, I’ll never stop supporting him the best way I can.”

army, Ashley Sepanski, family, military, siblings, war Hide

Since 2001, women have patrolled war zones, opened fire at enemy combatants and even died in hostile action. Yet regardless of their heroic sacrifices and immeasurable bravery, women are still derided as damsels to be protected by certain letters of the law. 

The current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan mark a turning point for women at arms. Due to the unpredictable nature of insurgency, battlefields appear everywhere, thus blurring the distinction between combat and non-combat roles and propelling women into front lines for the first time at equal capacity with men. Cultural sensitivities make female troops indispensable when searching Muslim women during patrols, necessitating all-female search teams (dubbed the Lionesses) to accompany combat units. During conflict-heavy phases of war, U.S. enlistees are stretched thin, consequently forcing military leaders to use whatever man and woman power they have.  

According to retired Lt. Colonel John Nagl, a counterinsurgency expert, “We literally could not have fought [in Iraq] without women.” 

The House Armed Services Committee ignored these realities when it approved an amendment in 2005 barring female soldiers from serving in direct ground combat forces.  

Specifically the law prohibits women from joining teams below brigade level whose sole purpose is direct ground combat — such as infantry, armor, Special Forces as well as most field artillery units — and from doing support jobs while living with those units. Endorsed as a way to protect women from ill-defined Army policies, the ban is as impractical as it is chauvinistic because it does little to keep up with the ever-changing face of warfare.  

Supporters of this exclusion cite unit cohesion, sexual harassment and personal hygiene as critical reasons to keep women behind front lines. But these issues are simply matters of maturity and professionalism that must be expected of all soldiers at all times rather than merely in circumstances when women in combat arise. The reality is more than 356,000 female troops serve in the armed forces today, and their presence in war has had a transformative effect.  

In 2004 and 2005, retired Lt. Colonel Michael Baumann led thirty women soldiers and six female officers in Baghdad. Though he followed military policy by assigning these women to a separate chemical company of the division, his superiors knew these women were essential members of his field artillery battalion.  

To Baumann, the question over whether women can handle infantry work is obsolete. “Not only could [women] handle it, but in the same way as males,” he explains. “I would go out on patrols every single day with my battalion. I was with them. I was next to them. I saw with my own eyes. I had full trust and confidence in their abilities.” 

So why do lawmakers continue to be naysayers? Women have fought and will continue to fight in combat regardless of legislation. And reports of their performance under fire repeatedly disprove critics’ claims.

As retired Navy Capt. Lory Manning declares, “We are waiting for the policy to catch up to the real-world practice.” 

afghanistan, amendment, Baghdad, Colonel John Nagl, combat forces, culture, female troops, heroic, Irak, law, lawmakers, legislation, Lt. Colonel Michael Baumann, men, militaru, Muslim, Navy Capt. Lory Manning, patrols, personal hygiene, sexual harassment, soldiers, Special Forces, The House Armed Services Committee, U.S, war, warfare Hide

“I’ve been abducted. Come to The Rescue.”

4,000 people were voluntarily abducted on April 25th in Santa Monica (and thousands more across the world) in protest of Joseph Kony’s kidnappings to fuel his army in Uganda with child soldiers.

4,000 people, bound together with rope, walked silent and single file 2 miles down the coast to the Santa Monica City Hall.

4,000 people set up camp, there on the manicured lawns, amongst the well-pruned rose bushes, and prepared to wait until sufficient media coverage was generated and we were deemed “rescued.”

As night fell and the water-heavy air settled onto every vulnerable surface, a teeming mass of volunteers (of mostly high school and college students) proved that upcoming generations refuse to be labeled “apathetic.” Through the night we wrote letters to senators and congressmen demanding American legislation to commit to ending this atrocious war in Uganda that routinely and systematically slaughters children in the name of God.

But, more than anything, the night was about the visceral power of feeling united in a cause with our peers.

As we all feel ourselves bonding more to our computer screens and iPhones and less connected to the real world (even as we gain unlimited access to it in the palms of our hands), there’s a kind of magic that descends when that many of us can stand together in one place, at one time, for one reason. We, the Young Americans, shook the cyber clouds from our heads long enough to hear the desperate pleas from our contemporaries halfway around the world and were motivated to action.

While we shivered in the moderately chilly climate, and Alexis exhausted herself lobbying in DC—while we joked about skipping out to make last call, and Alexis lamented yet another political networking happy hour—while we all knew we would prefer to be in our jammies in front of the TV—we also knew that our mild discomforts and sleepiness couldn’t even touch the horrors and the bone-deep exhaustion that even now manifest in the fragile lives of abducted child soldiers in Uganda.

As a generation that’s never been asked to sacrifice the everyday luxuries that we mistake for necessities, we are gazing into our changing economic climate with a surprising clarity. Instead of throwing the proverbial tantrum over the reneged promises of fast cars and swimming pools, we are instead choosing to shed our childishly simplistic views of the world and actually apply our expensive degrees to more than binge drinking and self-entitlement.

While protesting the abductions of the invisible children, I realized that I, myself, had been abducted from the life that had always petted me and told me I could change the world, but had never asked me to. I find myself willingly embarking down a new path that promises a fulfillment deeper than instant gratification; the kind that digs deep into flesh and muscle and begins to transform the very fibers that make us human. And best of all, I find myself in good company.

Read other articles on Invisible Children

photos by diane ozanich

activist, alexis jones, cause, invisible children, joseph kony, santa monica, the rescue, uganda, war Hide

Unfortunately God did not grant me a window seat on the four hour flight home, a travesty seeing as it was a 6:15am flight and I hadn’t slept in days. I had dressed in the dark, my punk sneakers reeked of “rebel” my thick red aviators and Emo beanie hid my blood shot eyes and the CK1 I sprayed on (to cover my lack of showering) made me smell of 1994. To an outsider I must have looked like a concert groupie, still up from the night before, experiencing the worst hangover of her life. The reality: I was experiencing the worst hangover of my life but it wasn’t the traditional, self-induced alcohol binge; it was so much more. I was experiencing the first ever, “post-activist, rally rebel, nine hours of sleep in three days, no-voice left” hang over of a true trailblazer.

The beauty of this kind of hangover is you’re not simply left with a migraine, nausea and vague snap shots of the night before (half of which you want desperately to forget), you’re also left with a better version of yourself because what you did. We rallied the nation. We inspired the world. Sure maybe we were tired and needed countless hours to recoup our exhausted bodies, but what we received in return was almost criminal.

If you read my blogs, you know that I was in DC rallying with the Invisible Children boys and that on April 25^th we had an impossible task looming before us. Our insecurities, our doubt and our fear flirted with our confidence, tempting us to join Café Resignation but we stayed strong, determined to pull off one of the most ambitious awareness campaigns taking place in 10 countries and 100 cities around the world to end a war in Uganda.

The night before, I couldn’t sleep. The anticipation was exponentially worse than any Christmas Eve I could remember. I wanted to know if all our work would be in vain, if we were going to be a success, or fall in the wasteland of mediocrity. I awoke before the alarm went off and we went to our designated location to wait. “If you build it, they will come,” echoed in my head. We would soon find out.

Then it happened, like a miracle, an answered prayer, as droves of people came streaming in. Part of me was in disbelief, the other part arrogantly waved the flag of, “I told you so.” Either way, I will never forget watching hundreds if not thousands of people marching in front of our country’s capital, demanding change. I have never been a part of something like this, witnessed the power of our voice, the influence of numbers and the strength of a passion induced cause.

Icing on the cake: I was asked to give a talk to the Passionistas who stood before me. Humbled, honored, I took the microphone and, to this day, I have no idea what I said. I remember bright lights, cameras flashing, the crowd roaring, and the most overwhelming sensation of pure, unbridled inspiration pouring from my heart, from my entire body and my voice. If there were ever a time I wish I could have stopped time, if I could have freeze framed or crystallized a moment in history, it was then for I have never felt so alive in my entire life.

I walked off stage and the rally raged on with music, camaraderie among strangers, and pride in ourselves. Then we proceeded to endure torrential rain that was all too familiar to my infamous Survivor days, yet none of us were discouraged. Another night of no sleep, but this one sweetly welcomed as I recognized the taste of success, the smell of accomplishment, and the feeling of gratitude. The sun came up sooner than I thought and our faces betrayed our tiredness as we gathered our belongings, thanked the hundreds of people who also chose to weather the storm, and we parted ways.

I returned to our luxurious apartment. I packed up my things and I hopped on an airplane to return to the real world. Just like that, I returned to feeling normal again, like a Superhero who changed back into civilian clothes.

So, yes, to the naked eye I was a party girl gone too far, paying the appropriate consequences for my reckless behavior the night before, brutally catching an early flight home. But to those who where there, I, along with them, was a warrior. I was a girl willing to fight for something bigger than myself and offering the most essential: sleep, food, and shelter as collateral. I was a hero; we all were.

We won that battle, but the war goes on and this is but the first of many. However, the taste of victory is contagious, it’s addictive and I’ve been left wanting, needing more. We will end a war in Uganda. We will rescue the child soldiers of Joseph Kony and we will make history. But for now, I am turning off my phone, I am checking out, and I will voluntarily lose a day of my life to the allure of my bed and my sleep-deprived body’s necessity for rest.

photo by jim girardi

activist, hero, invisible children, joseph kony, passionista, superhero, survivor, uganda, war, washington dc Hide

I had lunch with a dear friend, Bobby Bailey, who is one of the guys who started a non-profit called Invisible Children. As we sat there in the heart of Beverly Hills, sipping a Fat Tire and eating from the fine dining establishment (90210 Burgers), we discussed the difficult challenges that lie before him.

You see, Bobby and his two buddies went to Uganda with 300 bucks in their pockets. Amateurs, newly graduated USC film students, these boys set out to shoot a short film. Upon their arrival and what he simply describes as “being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he along with his two SoCal surfer buddies witnessed an SUV blow up inches from the safety of their own car. A few terrified questions later, they realized they had just been formally introduced to Ugandan rebels on a typical killing spree. Needless to say, their worlds were never the same.

Rather than tell a story of a far off world, infused with adventure and child-like wonder, these boys were thrust into a world inundated with murder, kidnapping, horror, and fear. Yet in the face of this unforeseen experience, they did not turn and run, they stood their ground and captured the story to share with others.

I don’t believe that leaders are simply born, I think they are a product of their environments, that they are super heroes who voluntarily accept the heavy burdens and responsibilities of doing what the ordinary could not. I believe these boys have answered the call and in so transitioned from boys to men. As I sat across from Bobby, now only 27 and yet with a full six years of Invisible Children under his belt, doesn’t come across as a SoCal kid staring at me from his latest video montage. He firmly stands in the big shoes he’s created for himself and confidently describes the enormous, borderline impossible, work that lies before him.

Because for Bobby it’s easy to know what he’s fighting for. He’s seen it, smelled it, touched it and fallen in love with Uganda, with it’s people and the children for whom he fights. My question then? How do we convince others to join in on a battle that doesn’t and most likely will never affect them? How do we put them in a dirty, war torn pair of shoes even if only for a few seconds?

The reality is even if we take the time, if we imagine something to our best ability and exercise our compassion to its fullest extent, we still can’t begin to fathom the immutable fear infused in the Ugandan air. Not that it isn’t worthy of a valid attempt; it’s just that we have to find another, more powerful motive.

That’s when it occurred to me, and I asked my mom once, “Do you think I would have fought for African American rights in the thick of slavery even though I wasn’t black? Do you think during WWII that I would have hidden Jewish people in hopes of smuggling them to safety even though I wasn’t Jewish?” My mom’s response was simple and nearly arrogant: “ Of course you would have because I raised a daughter who would stand for those who could not, who would have given a voice to those who had theirs taken away and would have fought for people who had no more fight in them.” Well my chance is staring me in the face, the opportunity to prove her right.

Our generation is constantly criticized for being fickle, fair-weather and non-committal. Here is our chance to redefine our dedication, our fortitude and our resilience. We are setting a precedent in this world, for this world that war crimes and atrocities and injustices to humanity will not exist in our presence.

We are ordinary people being presented with an extraordinary opportunity to answer the call and be heroes. I dare you to say no to that. Join our cause, support our boys and let’s rescue the Invisible Children on April 25, around the world, in 100 cities, 10 countries, one voice will be heard. It will be ours.

Read iatg Editor, Diane’s take on Invisible Children and visit the Invisible Children website. 

bobby bailey, invisible children, joseph kony, leadership, uganda, USC, war Hide

She’s groundbreaking and an inspiration for aspiring female journalists everywhere. Undaunted by crisis-ridden war zones or high profile world leaders; CNN’s Chief International Correspondent, Christiane Amanpour is a force to be reckoned with. Unlike many of her counterparts, Amanpour tackles hard-hitting news fearlessly. More than just a news correspondent, she’s an iconoclast.

An intelligent and gifted student, Amanpour graduated Summa Cum Laude from the University of Rhode Island in 1983 with a BA in Journalism. But before all the accolades and honors, the British born journalist of Iranian descent struggled finding work—enduring many rejections because she lacked the “right look.” Her tenacity eventually landed her a job as an assistant at CNN’s international news desk in Atlanta.

She says about her humble beginnings, “I arrived at CNN with a suitcase, with my bicycle, and with about 100 dollars.” For Amanpour, the only way to move was up. She worked her way to correspondent in CNN’s New York bureau before becoming an international correspondent in 1989.

Amanpour quickly developed a reputation as a skilled reporter for her accurate and insightful reporting. She attributes her knack for storytelling to a famous movie quote, saying, “Remember the movie Field of Dreams when the voice said, ‘Build it and they will come’? Well somehow that dumb statement has always stuck in my mind and I always say, ‘If you tell a compelling story, they will watch.’”

Amanpour possesses sheer courage in dangerous situations. She’s reported in about every war zone including Iraq, Afghanistan, the Palestinian territories, Iran, Israel, Somalia, Rwanda, and the Balkans. Her assignments vary from “turning up at seemingly every war, genocide, famine and natural disaster, slipping through previously closed borders and interviewing even the most recalcitrant of foreign leaders.” As a foreign correspondent, she’s put her life on the line—not something many female journalists are willing to do. “I have made my living bearing witness to some of the most horrific events of the end of our century, at the end of the 20th century,” Amanpour says.

The notably modest and honored TV journalist has received wide acclaim for her work. She received the Courage in Journalism Award and was made Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth for her “highly distinguished, innovative contribution” to the field of journalism.

Modest yet authoritative, Christiane Amanpour is a trusted news source for many. “It’s absolutely vital… that the people of the United States get a look at what’s going on outside. It’s our role and it’s our job to be able to go to these places and bring back stories, just as a window on the world,” says Amanpour. It was announced last year that Amanpour would be anchoring (for the first time) her own nightly news show. But don’t expect her to give up traveling. She says, “I’m a field person at heart, in my bones and in my DNA.”

afghanistan, christiane amanpour, cnn, famine, field of dreams, genocide, iconoclasts, international correspondent, iran, iraq, israel, journalism, palestine, queen elizabeth, rwanda, somalia, the balkans, war Hide

Imagine being in a relationship, where your boyfriend misses your birthday, holidays, and significant life events. Shelly and her solider, an attack helicopter pilot, met three years ago.  They began dating causally, not knowing what would come of it.  As their relationship progressed his deployment date loomed before them. Only seven months into their relationship he was shipped over seas to Iraq for a one-year tour.

How did you prepare for the change in your relationship?

Shelly: I wasn’t prepared at all, and I don’t think he was either.  Neither one of us had ever experienced anything like this before, so we took the changes as they came and tried to adjust. For me, my friends and family are what got me through the deployment.  I learned that my life could not be about waiting, but it had to be about living.  I never felt like I missed opportunities to live while he was gone.  I prided myself on MY accomplishments, and I looked forward to celebrating those with him when he got home.

How did maintain your relationship?

Shelly: We had the luxury of chatting on yahoo messenger every few days, and we could see each other over webcam (even though there was a huge delay and it didn’t always work).  He called on average once per week, and I very much looked forward to hearing his voice.  Often he didn’t have too much to say, but he just wanted to hear that I was happy and I wanted to hear that he was safe and healthy.

What was it like when he returned?

Shelly: When he first got home, he was different than I remembered. He had the mentality that if a situation wasn’t life or death, it wasn’t important.  Of course it is necessary to prioritize situations by this standard while fighting a war.  But at home, not too many things are life or death, so it often felt as though anything I saw as significant was irrelevant to him.  We did have some disputes over this, but we eventually got down to the cause of the arguments and were able to find better ways to communicate.  I had to understand that he was readjusting to life.

Your boyfriend is set to deploy again soon, how are you preparing for this change?

Shelly: I have been spending more and more time focused on strengthening friendships, as I know I will rely on these friends to pull me through the rough times ahead.  I am involved in the FRG (Family Readiness Group), so that I will maintain a military connection while he is gone.  I am also trying to soak up every moment I can get with him, as these are the memories I will rest on.

What advice would you give other military girlfriends?

Shelly: It is important to remember that even though the physical relationship is put on hold due to the deployment, the emotional relationship can still grow, and my personal and professional lives are in no way on hold.  Again, he fights so I can live in safety and happiness.

photo by antonio edward

family readiness group, iraq, LDR, long distance relationship, military, relationship, soldier, war Hide