I once did an end-of-term paper on women in combat in WWII for a grad-level history course. Our professor had a sort of eclectic method of teaching, and all of the topics he didn’t quite have time to do, he gave out as research papers instead. We all had to present them on the last day of class.
I’ll never forget it, because at the end of the Q&A session after my presentation, my professor folds his hands and looks and me over the tops of his glasses- he’s a much older professor, one of the last of the old guard, very slow spoken and very very smart- and he says, “Ms. Chestnut,” and that’s not my real name, obviously, but he always addressed everyone by their last name, Ms. and Mr., no exceptions, “Ms. Chestnut,” he says, “if you were testifying in front of Congress, right now, on the matter of women in combat, in your expert position as a historian, what would you advise?”
At which point I took a deep, shaky breath, took a chance with this old, terrifyingly judgemental man staring me down, and replied:
“Historically, women have always served in combat, and always will. And when men serve with women, alongside them as equals, women are always accepted. It’s always the men above them and the women who’s never met them that make those women’s lives a living hell, and that’s the issue that needs to be addressed.”
My answer today is the same as it was four years ago. Women in combat aren’t the problem. Men and women in combat together aren’t even the problem. The truth is that, like women everywhere, it’s when people find ways to stop seeing them as human that we have problems.
(Also, I got an A.)