Quiet Mountain Essays
Copyright ©, 2005
Let the Journey Begin: Ponderings of a Feminist Navy Wife
by
Dana C. Wiggins
I became an official "Navy Wife" on 6 August 2001, the day my husband left for boot camp. His
decision to join the military just months after our wedding was shocking, so shocking in fact that
at first I took it to be a joke. During our nine-year courtship it had never occurred to me that I
would someday be a dependent identified only by his social security number- we were leftists, I
was a feminist, a PhD candidate in women's history, a war protester, definitely not a military wife.
But alas, my musician husband convinced me that a job in the Navy Band would equal travel,
benefits, and more stability than employment as a jazz player in a nightclub. So after auditions
and meetings with recruiters he signed his name on the dotted line and we embarked on this
journey together. Where it will take us remains to be seen.
My introduction to Navy wifehood came through the mail in the form of official military
propaganda. First I received a package explaining my duties as a wife, duties that basically
involved supporting my husband in all circumstances, never complaining about his job, and
always providing a happy, stress-free home. I was then sent pamphlets explaining military
acronyms and ranks, in other words, information that was as familiar to me as rocket science.
After three years I still do not know the difference between a Master Chief and a Lieutenant, or
what PSD stands for, or who salutes who and why. I can tell you graphic details about twentieth
century feminism but if I was ever required to know the meaning of TDY my husband and I
would both be court-martialed. My third package was truly eye-opening - it was a dress code
explaining appropriate attire for various functions. I stopped reading when I came to the "white
gloves may be suitable for tea" section. This document found a home in the paper shredder, a fate
far better than it deserved.
Now boot camp, military school, and the initial shock are over and my husband and I are
overseas. This aspect of the journey has proven to be both disturbing and exhilarating. On one
hand, I live in a beautiful country with a long history, foreign yet enticing customs, and generally
hospitable people. On the other hand, I am forced to have more dealings with the base than I
expected. In order to go to work I pass armed guards, aircraft carriers, and prostitutes supported
by US sailors. On my first visit to the gynecologist I was told I sounded like Eve Ensler in the
Vagina Monologues. I became so nauseated at the prevalence of exploited and pornographic
images of women on base (the military claims that nude males are too obscene to show) that I
wrote a letter to the base newspaper expressing my disgust. I am sure that I've been flagged.
On a regular basis I must explain why my husband and I have different last names and I
constantly defend our decision to not have children. At gatherings I am introduced as " his wife" ,
a woman presumably with no job, no education, no mouth, no life. For women's history month
the base held ladies night at the bowling alley. Alice Paul would be proud.
I wonder about other women on base and how military culture has influenced their mental health.
Many spouses are young, they are left alone for long periods, encouraged to have children
quickly, and are surrounded by others who are just like them. I feel as if these women are never
given a chance to define themselves, they exist only in relation to their husbands. When I do
attend spouse functions I am bombarded by talk of men and children - it is rare to discuss politics,
world events, school, or any other topic. Of course these statements do not apply to all women on
base, there are exceptions and not all of the women here are the same. But it is apparent that there
is a system in place that promotes traditional family values, never-ending loyalty to one's husband,
and a self-sacrificing, yet positive, attitude. Furthermore, one never hears of domestic violence or
sexual assault, even though both of these crimes are more prevalent among military members.
The machismo, cowboy, big-man attitude that the military encourages is detrimental to women,
yet this is never mentioned or discussed.
Personally, the most distressing part of this journey had been the ongoing war in Iraq. As I pass
the local protesters who stand at the base' s front gate, I experience my own psychological turmoil.
I want to throw down my ID and run towards them screaming, " I am one of you! I'm only
disguised as a Navy wife! Let' s demonstrate against the war and the violence that the base
promotes!" But, I fear that such a display will result in my deportation. Instead, I fantasize about
our upcoming departure from military life, bite my tongue, don my symbolic white gloves, and
walk on base hoping that all Navy wives I pass secretly harbor similar desires: Peace.
Contributor's Notes...
Dana Wiggins is a doctoral candidate in history at Georgia State University with expertise in women's, 20th
century, the American South, modern Britain and Ireland, and world comparative history. Her dissertation is a
study of female country music during the 1980s and its uses of gender, region, class, and race. She currently
lives in Japan where she is an instructor in US and African American history. This is her first publication;
however, she expects to publish sections of her dissertation as they are completed.
