Growing up at the intersection of military and civilian life, I've learned that identity is rarely a simple narrative. Living between two worlds—the military world and the civilian world—has profoundly changed my worldview.
In the military world, service is more than a profession; it's a profound commitment etched into the fabric of daily life. Pride isn't just an emotion, but a lived experience of sacrifice, resilience, and collective purpose. Watching my father serve for almost 20 years, I’ve internalized a deep sense of duty—not as a rigid concept, but as a responsibility grown from personal choice and collective duty.
Yet, stepping into the broader civilian world has revealed a more nuanced reality. The conversations I encountered—often critical, sometimes challenging—weren't attacks, but invitations for deeper understanding. Social media debates about defense spending, foreign policy, and military interventions weren't simply criticisms, but expressions of a diverse, evolving society grappling with its own complexity and actions. I usually rush to defend our military, but these situations have shed more light and helped me clearly define the different aspects of patriotism.
Patriotism, I’ve learned, is a concept that isn’t easily defined. It is a growing engagement with the nation's ongoing journey. Patriotism involves multiple facets: honoring individual and collective sacrifices while simultaneously examining systemic challenges.
My role, I've discovered, is not to defend but to translate—to create bridges of understanding between two worlds that often speak over each other. When someone questions military policy, I've learned to listen, to ask questions, and to seek the humanity and reasoning beneath the critique. These conversations reveal shared values: a desire for peace, respect for human dignity, and a commitment to global progress. As these conversations reveal progress, we can bridge even the widest gaps in understanding.
Through sharing personal stories, people begin to see the human side of military life. When I talk about what it’s like to move to a new school every few years or cope with a parent’s deployment, it’s clear it’s not just about the uniform—it’s about the families, the sacrifice, and the service behind it. In these situations, storytelling has become my most powerful tool. By sharing the human experiences behind the uniform, we can invite others to see beyond stereotypes. These narratives aren't about justifying institutions, but they’re also about revealing the complex human experiences that shape them.
In a deeply divided America, I've learned that growth emerges not from agreement, but from genuine curiosity and understanding. Each conversation has become an opportunity to challenge our own assumptions and recognize the validity of different lived experiences. Patriotism, in this context, becomes an active engagement consisting of empathy, humility, and collective growth.
As a military teen standing at these intersections, I feel that I am both a witness and a bridge-builder. My identity is not defined by a single narrative but by my capacity to hold multiple perspectives, to listen deeply, and to continually expand my understanding of what it means to serve and have patriotism in a continuously changing America.