I joined the Army to prove I was a badass woman -not just any woman, a warrior-black Valkyrior.
"Valkyrie, you know why we named you that, don't you?" my mom had said as she wiped the warm washcloth across my nine-year-old face. I soaked in her tenderness and affection but, I wouldn't look at her. I knew where she was going. I stiffened. Oh, how I regret that. My mom meant the world to me, but the spite in me put a wedge between us.
My mom's voice toughened with conviction, "Valkyrie was the badass on Asgard. The strongest Valkyrior warrior."
I twirled my finger in my bloody knee and painted frowns on my leg.
"Young lady, you look at your mother when she speaks to you."
I looked into those rich brown eyes. A hue of amber in the iris flared like fire. My mom was the real badass of the world.
That was not the first time I took a beating for my name. The kids at school were relentless to me. All I wanted was my mom's pure sympathy, but usually, she lectured me about being stronger.
I rescued my eyes from her power and went back to fingerpainting in my blood. In a meek voice, I asked, "Do you think they did this to me because I am black?"
Fire flew out of my mom's eyes. A hand slapped my good cheek. Now I had two bruises.
"You will not do that. You will not play the victim card! Those girls did that because they were cowards."
"What does Valkyrie even mean?" they had asked before they hurt me.
"I am a warrior princess. Valkyrie was the strongest warrior on Asgard. She led the Valkyriors." I mistakenly shared this information which added to the taunting.
"Oh, you think you are a warrior." And before I could run, those bullies encircled my little 9-year-old body, and the punching began.
After that day, I went by Vallery. It broke my mom's heart. It took me years to discover my strength, but then it was too late. My mom would never see me as courageous. Then, as soon as I appreciated my name Valkyrie, I was assigned a new title, Private First Class Calder.
"Calder, get your ass in line," my sergeant yelled at me.
"Yes, sir!" I bellowed.
I worked harder than every male there. If they did twenty pushups, I did forty. I doubled everything to prove my worth, but no one noticed. They only saw when I failed.
"Should have become a pole dancer," they would say to me.
They all failed at times. That's what humans do. But as a woman, I wasn't allowed to.
Our infantry only had one other female. Redmen was gorgeous hot! All the soldiers desired her, and they didn't have to work hard to score with Redmen. Not me. No one would even get to first base with me.
"Hey Redmen, I bet you could sleep your way to a five-star general. You can start with me." Our NCO offered.
She had a reputation.
I avoided relationships. I was there to fight, but I had no idea the fight I was in for.
Of course, Redmen was the first choice of any man, but when she was occupied, that left only me. Suddenly, I was the lust object of almost all my fellow soldiers—even my NCOs.
The sexual harassment never stopped. I don't believe I ever saw a day in the service that someone didn't harass me. Sexual jokes. Innuendoes. Inappropriate touching. I hated, no detested every encounter.
After two years of back-breaking work, and no, I am not complaining, the infantry officer had Redmen and me in his office.
"I am not going to pussy foot around this. We have quotas to meet. We need a noncommissioned female in our infantry."
Redmen stood tall. If you were to pit us against each other, she had brains while I commanded the brawn.
"Corporal Calder, welcome to the NCO."
"But sir, statistically, I come on top," Redmen said. Talking to an officer like that put Redman out of order, but she had learned early that she could get away with anything. She had eyes that could pierce any soldier's soul and a body to subdue them.
"Redmen, we have a quota. If you want to advance, then become black."
My skin burned. Had he really said that?
Redmen glared at me. "That is racist."
"A black female non-commissioned officer. Fits the bill. Redmen, fall out."
By the time I rejoined my infantry, the news of my ranking had made it to everyone.
If I thought the harassment was intense before, it worsened. No one took me seriously. No one listened to me. And whenever possible, my Army brothers set me up to fail.
"Hey, Calder, why don't you black your way to five-star general?"
Three months later, when the heat simmered over my promotion, Private Winger invited me to the bar with the "gang".
"I am not 21," I reminded him.
"That don't matter. The Mule Wisky checks IDs, but if you are Army, they let you in."
Private Winger was one of the few men there who never hit on me. I was torn. I didn't want to drink, for my daddy died a drinking man. But this was the first time I felt accepted. So, I went.
Much of the bar is a blur since I didn't know how to handle alcohol, but I think I had fun. I do remember when Private Winger and four others beat the shit out of me behind the bar and dumped my body in the trash bin.
"Black your way out of there."
They must have thought they killed me. I thought they had killed me. I blacked out until I regained consciousness in the hospital. Several officers visited me to record my statement. At least those cowards who had done this to me would pay.
I was wrong.
"Corporal Calder, we could write you up right now."
"Write me up?" I tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in my liver pulled me back to my bed. "Do you see where I am, sir? My infantry did this to me."
"Yes, yes. That is true. But, if you were not drinking, then none of this would have happened. You are not at the legal age for drinking."
I tried to take a deep breath to control my anger, but my stiff lungs wouldn't fill with air.
"They beat me because I am a non-commissioned black female. They need to pay for this."
"Be assured. We have their statements."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Right now, we are discussing your course for reprimanding."
My eyes teared, not because of guilt, but because of the light behind the officer's head. I quickly wiped them away so he wouldn't see me as a weak female.
"Now, I don't want to write up my only female NCO. I know you don't want that on your record. So, I tell you what I will do. If you get help, then we will forget this ever happened."
"Sir?"
He stared at me with no emotion or compassion on his stone face.
"Sir, what will happen to my assailants?"
"You leave that worrying to me. We are here on your infarction. There is a 28 steps program you will check-in to upon release from the hospital."
"28 steps? Why? I am not an alcoholic."
"How do we know that?"
"I am not!" My chest ached from the blast of my words. My arms gripped them as I struggled to breathe.
"Do you want a dishonorable discharge? It is our job to make sure you get the proper help for your alcohol problem."
With that, those piranhas left my hospital room.
The Valkyrior in me dissipated as I bawled and bawled.
"28 steps, Ma," I cried to the heavens. "I sure let you down. Not even 21, and I am put in an alcohol clinic. I guess I am my pa's daughter after all."
I needed my mom to hold me, to take a warm cloth, and wash away all my wounds. I needed her warm body to embrace me in a hug.
"You thought I was a warrior. You were wrong."
The 28-step program was hell. I had thought the army was brutal, but my intake program was like a jail. They watched every move we made and dictated all we did. They didn't trust us as they removed everything personal from us. They forced me to share a room with five other women. They refused to let me exercise or do anything for my mental well-being. Honestly, there were days I didn't think I would make it. I found myself contemplating suicide. Whenever I would get the idea to take my life, I would picture my mom. She would be the first to pick me up from Heaven.
"Valkyrie, you know why we named you that, don't you?" I wouldn't be able to look at her. "Because you are the most badass woman on earth."
"What's your name?" My new roomie asked me on day 25.
"Calder."
She shook her head. "No, not your last name. Your first name."
"Valkyrie."
The girl jumped up.
"No shit! You are Valkyrie Brunnhilde. Odin selected you to lead the Valkyriors."
"I don't feel very tough right now." I bet no one here believed I was Army. -such a washed-out wuss.
"What do you mean? You are in the military. That alone makes you tough."
I looked away from her. She had too much pep for this place. The facility had sucked my soul from me.
"Listen, Valkyrie. You must fight. That is why you have your name, isn't it? -to remember always to fight. Look at me. I am a fighter. This is my third time here."
Oh, I pitied her soul.
"If I just gave up, I would be dead in the gutter somewhere. But I keep fighting. I bet if I had a name as cool as yours, I could kick my addiction's ass!"
I picked up my blanket and wrapped it tight around me.
My roomy sat next to me. "You are stronger than you think."
"It doesn't matter. I joined the Army to show the world how tough I was, and then my infantry kicked my ass because I am a black female."
"You will not do that. You will not play the victim card! Those guys did that because they were cowards.."
Chills took over my body. I almost expected her to slap me. Had my mom heard my prayers and appeared to me as recovering alcoholic.
My roomie's face went red as her fist clenched. "I could play the victim card too if that is the game you want to play. It's not my fault I am an alcoholic. It's because I am Hispanic trailer trash. If my parents weren't off getting high all of the time, then I wouldn't be here. If I was raised across the tracks in a white home, I would be in Harvard now."
Tears streamed down her face.
She continued. "I used to play the victim card. This is where it got me. A victim. Do you want to be a victim all of your life? Your mom named you Valkyrie for a reason."
My heart sank.
"You are a fighter. Sure, life is unjust to us women, but if all we do is bitch about it, where will that get us? You have to fight, Valkyrie. Fight for your race. Fight for your sisterhood. FIGHT FOR YOU! But don't ever play the victim card. That traps you. If you do, you will end up like me."
-Wow! Could this has-been alcoholic have more wisdom than me?
"You take this situation, and you use it as your armor."
I returned to my infantry to fight. I was crushed to see that the cowards who left me to die were still right there. I had to work beside them. Their taunting had stopped, but the ice I felt from everyone shattered me. Everyone treated me like the villain, not them.
"Corporal Calder, we don't believe under the circumstances you are fit for deployment."
"What!" I screamed. "You can't take that from me. We have been training for deployment since I joined this infantry. I did nothing wrong."
"We are afraid you might have PTSD from the "event" and would hate for you to have a mental breakdown on deployment."
"Sir, you cannot take this from me. This is unjust."
"Listen, I will have you meet with the psychologist, and he will determine if you go."
How could I not play the victim card? There I was, being punished for the assault against me. The cowards who beat me up didn't have to go to 28 steps because they were old enough to drink. They still got to deploy.
So, I get the shit beat out of me, and I am the only one punished!
With the psychologist, I carefully orchestrated my words.
"..and I am grateful this happened to me. I have learned so much from 28 steps." I felt I was spitting out vile with such bullshit words. "I learned strength. I learned valor. I will take what happened and only be a better person from it. This situation has become my armor."
After my appointment, I heard nothing from the higher-ups, which could only be good news. As my infantry prepared for deployment, I packed my things. The night before we shipped out, my commander called me in.
"Listen, Calder, you were denied deployment from the psychologist."
"What! Why? How? No!"
"I am sorry. You will be transferred to a different infantry, and you will miss this deployment."
"I did nothing wrong!"
And like that, I lost my deployment.
How could I not play the victim card?
It turns out that moving infantries shifted in my favor. The privates and NCOs were decent to me, which was a refreshing trade.
I signed up for school at that point, for I had a mission. I had joined the Army to fight like a warrior, but now I had a different battle to wage.
After my honorable discharge from the Army, I finished my law degree. I had to fight for my gender and my race.
I wish I had bothered to ask my roomies name at 28 steps. She had saved my life and given me a mission. She and my mom were right. Playing the victim card would get me nowhere. I had to act like the Valkyrior warrior I had inside and fight.
Armed with experience and knowledge, I flew to Texas. I needed my story heard. Not for pity or sympathy, but to change the system. There was one person I knew who had the power to help me.
Shaking, I entered Senator Ted Cruz's office. He was the top advocate fighting against sexual harassment against females in the military.
"Senator Ted Cruz, my name is Valkyrie Calder. I was a Staff Sargent in the United States Army. I have a Juris Doctorate from Harvard."
Senator Cruz clasped my hand in his. His warmth spread to my arms. "Welcome, Valkyrie. What can I do for you?"
"Are you familiar with the origin of my name, Senator?"
"Yes. Powerful name."
"I use my name as inspiration, for I have a fight more extensive than anything on Asgard. There is severe injustice and sexual harassment in the military. I understand you fight and advocate for females in the military. I have a story to share with you, and I come armed with the law to help your fight."
"This is our fight."
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Valkyrie Calder-Black Woman Warrior
by Stephanie Daich
