The Hoo-Yah Sisterhood

I’ve always had a certain respect for the military. Growing up with a die-hard Army ranger dad and a long line of obscenely proud military officers in the family will do that to you. My father, I can tell you, is not your average dad, and though I may have missed out on some of those father-daughter moments I see Rick having with our daughter, I think my father successfully instilled in me a warrior spirit that has carried me through much of my life and still burns quite strong today.

My father was stationed in Panama in the 1980s. I was barely nine years old when Operation Just Cause erupted, and it was then that I truly began to understand what it means to have another person protect your freedom on a simple vow of honor, determination and brotherhood.  I suppose you don’t understand a lot about life at nine, but you know enough to appreciate the fact that the only thing standing between you and a pissed off army of jungle rebels armed with machetes and automatic weapons is a line of young soldiers just outside your back door.

I remember the very day temporary barracks were set up in empty military housing across the street from our base quarters. I sat on the curb and watched as the soldiers moved in, hauling weapons, helmets and gear I had seen all my life but had never really cared about until I saw it gripped in the hands of the soldiers who would soon use it to defend our base. The other kids cowered behind our family car, too afraid to be seen openly gawking at the new arrivals in the neighborhood. I, however, found myself completely infatuated with all the soldiers who lived there and immediately decided, shy or not, I was going to hang out across the street as much as possible.

And, so every day, I spent hours sitting in the Humvee, walking around with the soldiers’ too-big helmets on my head, watching them do PT or bringing them banana bread I learned how to bake just so I would have a reason to visit again. They, in turn, taught me about teamwork and brotherhood, ferocity and determination, bravery and dedication, adventure and the balls you need to seek it out.

So, when the mortars finally started falling and the house was shaking in the dark and the windows lit up with the sparks of war and all I could hear were the yells of men muffled by the metallic rat-a-tat-tats of gunfire in our backyard, I took comfort knowing those soldiers I had met were there standing strong and ready to do whatever it took to keep us safe.

And, they did.

I suppose that’s one reason I traded up regular old road races for adventure races. There’s nothing like working together as a team to get through any challenge facing you, and it reminds me so much of what I learned as a naive nine year old eagerly soaking up everything I saw on a military base in a hostile war zone. It’s the same spirit the military instills in its soldiers. It’s all about teamwork and brotherhood.

For me, it’s all about sisterhood. And, when I discovered The Big Hoo Yah back in August, I was determined to run it. So, I recruited two amazing women who I knew had that warrior spirit in them and would never back down from a challenge no matter how hard it tried to beat them down. Jackie and Karen joined me to form the Warrior Princesses and together we spent last Saturday showing The Big Hoo Yah what girls are really made of…and believe me, it’s definitely not sugar and spice.

The Big Hoo Yah is a Navy Seal designed adventure course with more than six miles of obstacles, most of which can only be completed with teamwork.

I have to give these two ladies major props. First, signing up to do anything with me is usually a sign of temporary insanity. My idea of fun tends to include words like adrenaline, danger, sweat, discomfort and sometimes even temporary stupidity. Second, I gave them one month to prepare for the biggest race they had ever encountered. Not exactly a lot of prep time, particularly for moms of new babies!

Here’s the thing though…women are a tough sort. We’ve got that tough chick persona in us, but it’s often buried under all this other fluff we use during our day-to-day lives. But, if you really challenge a woman to step outside her comfort zone and bring the rain…she will rise to that challenge and dominate whatever you throw at her… mud, grit, grime and all. And, I have to say, Jackie and Karen not only let loose their warrior spirit, but they dealt a major ass whooping to a race most people would avoid at all costs.

And, honestly, I couldn’t have picked two more awesomely perfect teammates (and friends). It was truly a privilege to get “intimate” with them as we battled through those 20-some obstacles.

A team is all about supporting each other and working together to make it through whatever gauntlet is thrown at your feet, and we did just that. The race started out mild enough…just several miles of rocky hills---that would have easily broken the faint hearted---mixed in with a healthy dose of bear crawls, low crawls, tires, trivia and even a brief sprint carrying one lucky teammate.

Then, the fun really started…

We had to work together to climb over drain pipes, roll a haystack down a field and back (and, if you have never had the opportunity to do this, I would not recommend it anytime soon.), move rocks, walk a balance beam without falling off, climb walls and jump over and under wood beams.

And, in truly Navy Seal style, there was the mud and water. There is nothing like swimming out into a cold lake as a unit…literally…then filling a 55-gallon barrel with water from said lake, which just happens to be sitting at the bottom of a hill. Can you say Jello legs three times without vomiting?

Of course, there was a mud pit, more walls, a sled pull, rope climb, sandbags, hot Navy Seals in pink shirts and paintballs. (To the sniper who nailed me in the right nipple. Thanks. I don’t really need two nipples. I can do just fine with one. Hoo-yah!)

But in all seriousness, there was nothing more satisfying than to cross the finish line with my teammates' hands clutched in mine, raised in victory.

Clearly, finishing The Big Hoo Yah does not put a racer in the same caliber as the Navy Seals or the Army Rangers. However, it gives you a glimpse into what you can do if you dig deep, embrace the pain and run beside your friends. Imagine what women could do if they followed that mantra every day of their lives. We’d have an awful lot of tough, cool chicks walking around, huh?

And, I think that definitely calls for one BIG “hoo-yah”!

An Obligation for Change

I have always loved Meryl Streep. There's just something about her that makes you want to be her friend. She's seemingly softspoken, her voice almost lulls you into thinking she would agree with just about everything and everyone. (She would tell you that's why men like her.) Yet, I think the secret behind why women love her is in the way she carries herself with purpose and an unassuming confidence that makes you want to walk beside her because you know this chick is taking the world by storm whether you like it or not. She has a take charge kind of personality without being overbearing, and when you watch her on screen, you believe her. She's authentic to who she is. She's real.

I think Meryl and I could be friends.

So, when my father of all people asked me to watch Meryl's 2010 Barnard commencement speech, I did simply because I like watching her, and I was feeling slightly nostalgic as my 4-year-old's preschool graduation crept closer. I didn't, however, expect to love Meryl even more after hearing this speech. Not only did this speech resonate with me on several levels, it also made me think about how my father perceives me. It made me wonder if I've been wrong about him.

You see, I have always thought he was disappointed in me...not because of the things I've done but because of what I'm not. I thought I embarrassed him because I wasn't that girl. I am not and never have been the prom queen or even the prom goer, the cheerleader or the popular girl, the pretty one, the agreeable one, the happy-go-lucky, giggly girl all men seem to want on their arm. 

I don't like makeup. I've had a life-long hatred of hairbrushes. I wear dressy dresses only on special occasions or if I run out of clean pants. I sit like a man because it feels better and doesn't give me varicose veins. I like a challenge and to be challenging. I like to curse. I don't think you need to love someone to sleep with them. I don't mind arguments as long as the argument is moving forward and not running in circles. I say what I mean without filter or apology. I need freedom and consistency all at the same time. I am fearless...of people, of places, of rejection, of you, of me. I have a temper, and sometimes I yell way too much for my own good. However, I do have a softer side, and I love affection and loyalty and honesty and beauty and animals and kids and family and flowers and paint...and little girlie drinks with tropical umbrellas in them. And jewelry. Go figure.

For the longest time, I thought my father wanted me to be more like my cousins, girls from the deep South with perfectly applied makeup and silky-straight blonde hair and heels. Girls with cute bodies who know when to giggle after a bad joke or what to say to make a crowd of people love them. My cousins are very agreeable, and my father seemed to love them for it.

I don't know if my father was truly disappointed in me, but if he was, I don't think he is anymore. I think he has finally realized he was searching for the wrong things to be proud of. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter if 100 men thought I was pretty or if every woman wanted to look like me or if my picture on his desk got compliments from his coworkers. It doesn't matter if a crowd of people find me sweet and buttery. What matters is what's ticking in my head and swirling in my soul. What matters is that I'm being who I am and not who the world would prefer me to be. What matters is how strong I am and how much shit I can take without giving in to the world's whimsies about women.

I think I'm pretty strong, and I have a pretty high threshold for the bullshit society throws at me every day simply because I'm a female and not your textbook strand of female either. And, that's a lot of reason to be proud, I think.

Meryl Streep said her greatest characterization was the one she perfected in high school when she decided to deny who she was and to be what every man wanted her to be. She became that girl, and it wasn't until she went to college and surrounded herself with strong, independent, challenging women that she was able to reach deep down into the cobwebbed crevices of her soul and find herself again...the loud, fearless, opinionated, curious, sweet and salty woman that she had stuffed in a box while she experimented with expectation.

Unfortunately, I think Meryl is right. Most people, at first glance, would prefer a woman who is less loud, less opinionated and less forthcoming with herself. Anything other than the norm makes people feel uncomfortable. After all, it's always easier to fit in with the crowd than it is to grow away from the norm.

What I took from Meryl's speech is a lesson I hope to one day instill in my daughter. You can't be it all, do it all or want it all. If you think you can, then you're only going to find yourself empty in the end. What you need to realize is happiness is actually very simple...it's giving into you and no one else. It's the line that divides pretend play and reality. It's the place where your family lives, where you feel the most loved, where you feel free to be you. It's that place where you don't feel an obligation to change yourself to fit the world but a duty to change the world to accept you the way you are.

And, if I have managed even part of this, my dad has every reason to be proud.