Strong Hope: Military Sexual Trauma
Plus, Najibullah Azad
We all had our secrets.
Every one of the patients had hidden Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) buried inside their souls. The overwhelming majority of the female military patients at Strong Hope, a military treatment program at the Salt Lake City Behavioral Health Center (AKA Looney Bin), were not there for combat post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). More were there for military sexual trauma (MST) or childhood sexual trauma (CST).
Gotta love the military; they even have acronyms for rape.
I made it a priority not to speak with many of the female patients, even during our smoke breaks. Although I quit smoking after my push to Ghorak in 2012, I took it up again during my all-expense paid vacation to Strong Hope. Honestly, I didn’t think I belonged in the same treatment center. Not because their trauma wasn’t accurate or true, but instead because I felt it likely prevented them from being completely honest with their therapists. I personally witnessed female patients become enraged if anyone happened to get into their bubbles. I just felt I would interfere with their pursuit of healing, which always requires truth. And, as always, the truth shall set you free.
While I kept most of the female patients at arm’s length (they were on different floors), what I didn’t expect to hear during group therapy was the staggering amount of male MST.
During my time inside those walls, I heard men talk about their own MST.
I wasn’t prepared for that—those stories. I thought only women would share those types of stories.
I was wrong.
During over 100+ hours of intense group therapy, I heard male MST stories that would break you in half. Just awful. I cannot even express in words the level of barbarity that took place.
I could barely hold it together, to be honest. I oscillated between rage and empathy. Finally, instead of getting upset, I started weeping alongside them and just being with them as they discussed some of the most horrific moments of their lives.
Men in treatment could discuss killing. That was manly. Sure, it was awful, but c’mon. That’s what men do - they kill. I heard gruesome stories of explosions, men screaming out in pain, and the repercussions of those events. Men, after witnessing such horrible events up close and personal, have a propensity to unleash that vengeance on the innocent, especially if their friends died in front of them.
While those horror stories were difficult to endure, they paled compared to male MST.
I wasn’t prepared for such harrowing stories. Many of us, myself included, struggled to console our brothers in arms.
I was paralyzed in fear and silence. I didn’t know how to react to these types of stories. I knew that MST was rampant in the military, having recently finished a command tour where MST reared its ugly head multiple times. MST comes in many shapes and sizes. While the majority of the cases involved a man sexually assaulting a female, I handled female-on-male, male-on-male, and female-on-female MST.
But I’d never heard the stories. I wish I had before I took command. Hearing my brother’s stories made me a better officer and leader. Hearing my brother’s stories made me a better man, father, husband, and ally.
(DoD, here’s an idea: why don’t you force 4-star generals to spend 5 hours a year in such places? So that they know.)
While one could quibble with the excess of the # MeToo movement, it is directionally on point, especially in the military. For all of Biden’s many, many sins, Biden made the correct call to overhaul the way sexual assault and other cases are handled by the military.
While I tried to be an impartial judge in these cases, I had no business being involved. What did I know about military sexual assault? Nothing. I knew how to kill Talibs—and I excelled at it. Seriously. Ask around.
But I knew nothing about rape, sexual assault, and all the various legal definitions of such crimes. The only experience I had in such cases was my time killing Talibs, who raped and murdered my Afghan brothers and sisters. And, to be very frank, I usually savored such moments.
So perhaps I wasn’t the right guy to decide such cases. Just because I was an above-average intelligence officer doesn’t mean I had the wisdom, training, or understanding to be involved in such cases.
Listening to my brother’s MST stories helped me realize how prevalent MST was throughout the service and that, as a Male officer, I had failed to truly grasp its destabilizing effects throughout the ranks. When I left Strong Hope, I felt like I could empathize better with my sisters-in-arms, who grew up in the ultimate good-ol boy network.
The military has its problems, but also it’s also a magical place with amazing people struggling against the world’s most moronic bureaucracy. We will start getting into that with our new podcast, “Service Unplugged.” Sara Davidson and Natalie Stossberg, two extraordinary military leaders, will provide some thoughts on life in the military. The aim is to make their podcast accessible to everyone, including veterans, military family members, and civilians alike.
Natalie and Sara aim to crank out their new podcast within the month. They’re incredibly excited, and so is everyone at GCV+F. We’re grateful to have you here. We couldn’t do it without you, zmoog Andiwalaan (Pahsto - our people).
Comments
I don’t want to rehash an old incident, so this is what happened last week, more or less.
Yesterday, a reader made a perfectly valid point about JD Vance but ended it by accusing me of being a “part of the problem in Afghanistan.”
I’ve never had anyone say anything more insulting to me in my entire life.
We love interacting with our readers. Our internal channel is flooded with beautiful comments from our readers. They keep us motivated, especially those who follow us, because they are also survivors—survivors of rape, beatings, or life’s cruel twist of fate. We love it.
However, after last week, we will have to make some changes.
Again, you can agree with me or not. Please, all we ask is that you dissent with respect. However, after someone said the above to me, I had to rethink some things. Honestly, I had to spend some time alone after reading that sentence from a lady last week.
It hurt. Deeply. Especially saying that to an Afghan combat veteran during August, the 3-month anniversary.
I didn’t think people could be so cruel.
Thus, in the future, commenting will only be for paid subscribers.
If you’re a balla on a budget and love us, drop me a line at gcv.friends@gmail.com. We got you. We can work something out. We need your feedback.
Other perks will follow, especially for our founding members, which is a thing!
Najibullah Azad
If you haven’t read Najibullah Azad’s piece yet, start doing push-ups! Seriously, folks, this is a brilliant man. Phew. I don’t know how many languages he speaks, but he speaks English better than I do, that’s for sure.
The aftermath of the Taliban's takeover has plunged Afghanistan into a multifaceted crisis marked by the erosion of human rights, the plight of refugees, complex geopolitical dynamics, and the exploitation of natural resources. The bleak future for women and human rights activists highlights the urgent need for international action to support those fighting for change. The mass exodus of Afghan refugees underscores the humanitarian crisis that has emerged, necessitating global assistance.
Big week this week. The gang will be in Northern Virginia to remember the third anniversary of the fall of Kabul. We’re looking forward to remembering with our friends at the Afghan United Front and all the other voices of the resistance!
Until Next Time
Been there done that as an 11-year-old boy raped by a couple of perverts at a state park. I successfully hid it from my parents and then myself, but it blew up 40 years later in the civilian version of a PTSD meltdown. The horror is real and I thank you for helping your mates talk about it, because the truth will set you free, albeit slowly and painfully.
To this day I wish they'd been caught so I could kill them myself. But otherwise, I'm at peace with the event, though vigilant that it never happens to anyone again if I can help it.
Using the word "commemorate" for the 3rd anniversary almost sounds like a it's celebration of a positive event, which our abandonment of Afghanistan most definitely was not. Perhaps "memorialize" or "observe" would be a better word to convey a somber or reflective event.