By Alexandria Bullen

We began as a rose. A rose with no thorns. A beautiful, innocent, pure rose. Eager to feel the sun’s rays on our newly opened pedals. Curious what the rain felt like beading down our stems. We didn’t want to believe in the harshness of the world. The cruelty and selfishness of those around us. It’s often we find ourselves in harm’s way because it’s difficult for us to wrap our minds around the inhumanity and evilness of others. We can’t step out of our own world of authenticity and kindness that we have created. Wondering how others don’t feel the same. Over time our overwhelming desire to trust and open up to others has left us withered. Disappointed by the brown curling edges of our pedals. Loathing the unappreciated effort we repeatedly give at the expense of our own serenity. We grew thorns we never wanted. Thorns that prove to be necessary but are painful and ugly. We’ve shed pedals in the process of being too vulnerable. Pedals that weren’t meant for the taking. Too trusting, too kind, too passionate, too willing. Picked and pulled from our roots. Taken for granted as our outer beauty and tenderness is the only thing noticed. So pleasing, here for your appeasing. Always misunderstood. Rethinking what we should change about ourselves to make us more attractive. Having too high of expectations for people… for life itself. Giving until we run ourselves dry. Left with nothing but disappointment and cracked earth to sustain us. Stepped on. Judged. Never being seen for what lies at our core. The depth and realness of our nature. I don’t want these thorns, but they are the result of the damage and ugliness we have endured. It’s the byproduct of the unfairness we have lived, but maybe these thorns will preserve our peace.  Preserve our beauty so we can stand another day. Hoping that this world turns out to be as beautiful and as true as it seems.

Being a woman… It’s complicated. Given so many mixed signals, double standards, impossible expectations. Insinuating remarks on how we should look and act regardless of how we personally feel. I have experienced so much internal turmoil as a young woman in male dominated spaces. It has shaken my confidence to its core. The military is a tough place to be a woman. Most of the males I am surrounded by are vulgar, cynical, alpha-oriented, egotistical, self-important. This type of environment has compelled strong women to speak up but our voices are never heard. Told to lead but never taken seriously. It’s a conundrum that is impossible to navigate. Always working ten times harder to prove ourselves, to be seen, to succeed. 

Too many meetings where my perspective or opinion wasn’t considered. Opening my mouth but not a word being heard. Talked over, interrupted, silenced. Heard only after another man speaks up to say, “we should go with her idea”. Wasting my breath. Wasted self-confidence. Repeating myself because they didn’t bother to pay attention the first time. 

Too relaxed… you are being walked on. “Be more confident”. “Be more decisive”. Alright, let’s be more serious, more stern. I should stop smiling and laughing so much… maybe then they’ll take me more seriously. Laughing out of irritation and anger because god forbid I show either one of those emotions. Conditioned that a smile and an uncomfortable chuckle is the only acceptable response to anything unwanted. Constantly acting like nothing is ever a big deal. They push you. Cross a line. Take advantage of your pleasantness. Invade your personal space. After exhausting all your polite gestures, they finally realize they went too far. Oh, but again and again their smiles turn into accusatory fingers pointed at you paired with the same familiar responses… “Why are you so mad?”, “What’s wrong?”, “You’ve changed…”. “She’s a B**ch.” “You’re in a bad mood.” “Relax, lighten up.” “You should smile more”, “You shouldn’t get upset”, “You good? You seem stressed”… “You look tired…” “You look sick…”. You learn that your demeanor and appearance are the two most important things about you. And you begin to believe it. They want a rose. A rose with the perfect shade of red… strong straight stem, full bloom. A rose they don’t have to be cautious around. A rose they don’t have to worry about handling with care. A rose without its thorns.  

So you give them that… day in and day out. Until you don’t recognize yourself. You’ve shrunken, growth stunted. You turn into exactly how they expect you to be. You’re exhausted… depressed. But a new season brings you the life that you need to blossom again. You learn, you adapt… its survival of the fittest. A rose in a field full of wildflowers fighting for the right to take up space. I will choose to keep my thorns because they are the only thing protecting our kindness in the overwhelming masculinity. My growing thorns represent the strength and confidence I’ve gained and that I must maintain. They are my living battle scars that inspire me to move forward with grace and power. My blooming pedals represent my beauty, my compassion, my empathy, and my emotional availability that will be protected as long as I have my thorns. My stem represents my growth and vulnerability as a young woman learning to navigate the strength of her feminine nature.

I am a rose. A rose with thorns. A strong, beautiful, powerful rose.