Army Life: Lady Hips and Pink Lacey Underwear

Reflections on my journey as a woman in the Australian Army

From the very start, it was anticipated I would fail.

I defied their expectations, and in retaliation, they doubled their efforts to shatter me. “You’re a woman,” they said, as though that was justification for the challenges thrown at me.

Here’s my story of nightmares and enduring mental strain, without the protective walls of anti-bullying regulations which seemed non-existent within the Army’s realm.

Psychologist or Mind Reader

Victory was mine!

I proudly entered the ranks of the Australian Army as the first female recruit in the Psychology Corps in decades. Ironically, psychology wasn’t warmly welcomed in initial training and was seen as the harbinger of fun’s demise and the custodian of rules. AKA the “fun police.”

To clarify for my military peers, I joined as a psychology student and earned my place as a Private through rigorous induction training. I earned my stripes, the hard way, not through a knife and fork course (colloquial name for an easy training course for officers).

Even though I lacked authority and an official degree, the stigma persisted. The teenage boys in my platoon found it hilarious to ask, “Can you read my thoughts?” The misconception that psychologists possess psychic powers lingered.

No, I’m a psychologist, not a mind reader!

Boot Camp and Mind Games

Day 1 brought me to Kapooka near midnight. The welcome? Let’s just say a strip search might have been more comfortable and less confronting.

I stood in line, enduring yelling, and invasive bag searches for supposed contraband (Panadol and contraceptive pills!). Even my panties were scrutinised for amusement. Lesson learned — do not take pink lace underwear to the Army.

Describing the shouting falls short. Imagine a group of youngsters, a Sergeant bearing an uncanny resemblance to Arnold Schwarzenegger, an inch from your face screaming words my mother still won’t believe they’d utter to a lady.

For three nights, I endured sub-10-degree temperatures with an open window. Fear paralysed me from leaving my bed to close it. Followed by weapon dismantling and buckle polishing until my fingers bled, hours of marching, obstacle course and rile range training with constant emotional games of “you aren’t good enough.”

The punishment my body and mind endured was beyond words. Induction was designed to break me, so they could forge the soldier the Army required, leaving behind the defiant, smart-mouthed teenager I once was.

Lady Hips and Body Bags

As a woman, success felt like an uphill battle. The Army, after all, was a man’s job. Though never explicitly stated (except for that one Corporal I annoyed by fainting on the drill square in 40-degree Celsius heat — unit cohesion matters!), the signs were there.

During induction, I found several roles off-limits due to my gender, particularly those involving front-line artillery. The reason? Society couldn’t bear the thought of women returning in body bags.

Throughout our training, gender dictated certain activities. Scaling high walls was a no-go due to our “childbearing hips,” supposedly unsuited for landing. We were allotted more time to complete runs, as women were considered weaker and slower. These “reasons” weren’t meant to educate; they were meant to isolate the four girls in my platoon of sixty, pushing us to prove our worth.

Some might argue that there are in fact biological differences in our physical makeup that might warrant a different approach. But let me clarify that I carried the same weight as my male peers (plus a radio, courtesy of my Sergeant, who apparently thought that’d break me faster).

As well as executing maneuvers like the dead man roll; throwing myself into a somersault, rising to my feet, and running. All without consideration of my “female hips.”

You can celebrate ANZAC day — if you have a penis.

The cherry on this so-called equality pie, came after graduation, when in full uniform, I couldn’t enter my local RSL (Returned and Services League) on ANZAC (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) Day was originally devised to honour the members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. A day to commemorate the service and sacrifice of both men and women.

It was a “men-only” affair I was told. It did not matter that I was serving my country, but owning a certain biological characteristic made one “worthy.”

This tradition was revised the next year after some press coverage. Guess who contributed to that coverage?

While my journey could keep HR professionals up at night, there was a methodology that aimed to forge strength, loyalty, and camaraderie. While crucial in the military, may appear flawed when viewed through a modern corporate lens.

Nonetheless, this experience shaped me into who I am today. I confront challenges head-on, possess unwavering confidence in my contributions, and refuse to tolerate mistreatment.

If my “weak lady hips” could endure that journey, there’s nothing I can’t conquer!

About the Author: By day Kristy is a Corporate Executive and Board Director with a passion for CX, UX, and AI. In her other life, she loves to explore her writing passion on midlife trials and tribulations, parental journeys, and sharing her general musings on life.