COUNTERING MILITARY RECRUITMENT
Articles: Counter-Recruitment: General
Beyond Countering Recruitment: Teaching Youth to Imagine a Different Future
Aimee Allison, Indypendant
March 14, 2008
Military recruitment doesn't just happen at the Times' Square
Recruiting Station, or at community recruiting centers like the one
recently targeted by antiwar activists in Berkeley. Sure, those
storefronts sit in strip malls decorated with fancy posters offering
money and education and hope to attract foot traffic. But any decent
recruiter will tell you that their success is in their ability to
build relationships and offer a vision for a young person's future. I
should know. That's how I ended up serving six years in the U.S. Army.
--
I was one of those 17-year olds who strongly suspected that real life
good life was somewhere outside my small-minded California town. I
was the oldest daughter of six kids saddled with the unwanted role
of little mom with grown-up responsibilities.
I made breakfast and cleaned toilets as I sadly watched my brother
turn to drugs and my parents' marriage end. My reaction was to join
dozens of clubs and activities from debate club to student government
to youth ministry to escape the grinding reality of a fractured,
unhappy home in a town where I occasionally was caught alone on a
neighborhood street and verbally accosted by a carload of racists. I
couldn't wait to escape and start my life.
I took the military's Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery
(ASVAB) career test like most of the seniors in my high school,
mostly to get time away from two class periods. My teacher told me
the test would help me figure out my future and I admit I was
intrigued by the promise of clarity in two short hours. I was
irritated by the manual dexterity portion of the test, and halfway in
I realized I was being measured for manual labor or clerical
professions. I wanted to be a doctor or a marine biologist or the
first black woman secretary of state. Truth was, I didn't know who I
wanted to be. But I applied to some really great colleges and I
received an admission letter in April of my graduating year. My
mother was underwhelmed. That's nice, she said, but there's no money
for college. I need your help around the house.
The threat to my dreams made me desperate. Well then, I screamed at
her, I don't need you. I can do this by myself.
THE BILLBOARD
Everyday on my way to high school, I passed a billboard showcasing
four handsome youth white and black, male and female each wearing
dress green Army uniforms and carrying a stack of books. Their
smiling faces said to me, "Look at me, I'm independent and successful
and very, very happy!" The billboard encouraged me to Be All I Could
Be in exchange for $20,000 toward college costs.
That message remained in my mind during those critical weeks while I
searched for a way to pay for school. I'd been awarded a couple
thousand dollars in scholarships, only a drop in the tuition bucket.
One day, I passed the Army recruiter in the hallway. He called me by
name we'd gotten to know each other over the last three years. He
was a constant presence on campus in his dress greens and shiny
shoes. He volunteered as ticket taker at the football games, sat with
students in the cafeteria, and manned a desk in the career center
filled with photos and brochures. Everyone, including me, loved his
giveaways like book covers and pens.
He was one of the few adults in my life that had taken time to talk
to me about the future. That day, he stopped to chat. I told him
about college and my money problems. He put his arm around me and
looked into my eyes and said, "I believe in you, Aimee.
You deserve to have the best life. And you can have that life in
today's army." Within days, we were fighting traffic to the regional
recruitment center in Oakland. There, I signed an eight-year contract
and quickly chose a profession. There was a rush, the recruiter said,
because I wasn't guaranteed the best jobs if I didn't decide fast. He
suggested the military occupational specialty 91A combat medic
since I was interested in medicine. He assured me that that job would
allow me to help people and be a leader.
BOOTCAMP
The second week of June I was standing in formation in boot camp in
Fort Jackson, South Carolina, in my battle dress fatigues and helmet.
A red-faced southerner my drill sergeant stood over me screaming.
I realized then, that perhaps I'd been a bit hasty to think that
joining the military was my way to independence and happiness.
No one in my life, not my mother or father, teachers, coaches or
minister asked me one question about joining the military in those
critical last weeks of high school. No one made clear to me that
reservists may be called on to go to war, that women and medics were
soldiers first, that the racism I tried to escape was in my face in
the military. No one told me that it's very difficult to get the GI
bill and full educational benefits as promised or that most people
end up qualifying for financial aid that makes the military's offers
less attractive. No one told me that I would change so much in the
years after high school.
And above all, no one told me that they believed in me and my future
the way that I needed to hear. That is, no one but my recruiter. I
think, in retrospect, that if even one other loving adult or caring
classmate had reached out to me during my most confused days, that I
would have chosen another path. Or at least I would have waited for
my heart to stop racing to see other ways for me to make a great life
for myself.
Today, I travel the country to give young people hope in their
ability to create wonderful lives where an education, job, travel,
leadership and meaning are possible outside of the military. Just
last week in Hawaii, a young woman who attends high school in a small
former sugar plantation told me of the poverty and desperation of her
daily life. The roof leaks onto her bed when it rains; she keeps her
food in her top dresser drawer to keep it from the mice. Through her
tears, she told me that the recruiter promised an end to that. I
looked at this beautiful young woman, so full of longing, and
imagined her back from a tour in Iraq damaged and defeated. I put my
arm around her shoulder and told her that I believe in her and that
she deserves the best life. Let's get online, I told her. Here are
some programs that will help you prepare for it.
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