What Gets Seen, What Stays With Us

Women’s Military History Week – Pacific University

Last week, Maria and I attended the Women’s Military History Week celebration and exhibit reveal at Pacific University’s Forest Grove campus.

The event centered around a new display honoring women who serve and support. It is part of the I Am Not Invisible project, this time presented in color instead of the original black and white. The portraits were sharp and long overdue in a lot of ways. And if I’m honest, I felt a flicker of jealousy not being included.

There were also women there who had been “firsts” in their fields. One of the first ten female Air Force pilots. The first female optometrist. Their presence mattered.

At the same time, the night didn’t unfold as cleanly as one would hope.

We moved rooms more than once. Technical issues, things not quite working. Eventually we landed in a space where the documentary could actually be shown without interruption. And once it started, everything else fell away.

There’s a kind of quiet naivety a lot of us carried when we first joined the military. For some of us, it was about opportunity. For others, it was about direction. For Maria and me, a big part of it was practical. There wasn’t money for college, and the military felt like a path forward. You step into it without fully knowing what you’re stepping into.

Then there are moments that stay with you for completely different reasons.

Maria talked about being in Qatar on her 21st birthday. I talked about my first port call and eating roasted chestnuts for the first time. I remember realizing how wrong I had been about places I thought I understood. Dubrovnik wasn’t what I expected. It was beautiful. The people were beautiful.

There are moments that almost feel cinematic in hindsight. Another woman veteran shared a story about being in Kuwait, helping relocate animals from Saddam Hussein’s private zoo. Some were sent to other facilities, others were released locally. At one point, she didn’t realize a panther was circling nearby. Others saw it before she did. When she told the story, she smiled.

That’s part of it too. The way things that were dangerous or surreal get carried later. Not lightly, exactly. But differently.

And then the tone shifted.

The conversation moved onto harassment and military sexual trauma. There’s no clean transition into that. It just becomes part of the reality being named out loud. It’s heavy. It doesn’t resolve neatly.

Toward the end of the documentary, we were asked what we would want younger women entering the military to know.

What came through wasn’t polished advice. It was direct.

One answer stayed with me:

You’re resilient. There will be things you don’t want to go through, it’s going to hurt like hell at times, and it won’t be your choice. It’s not your fault.
And still, with time and distance, some things shift. Not all at once, but enough that you find your footing again.

Another woman offered something different, but just as important:

Believe in yourself. We’re not all built the same. We each carry different strengths.
Embrace what you have, and learn what you don’t.

Both can be true at the same time.

Sitting in that room, watching those stories, and then looking around at the exhibit, I found myself holding two things at once. There were women being recognized. Their service, their leadership, their presence being made visible in a way that hasn’t always happened.

And there were also the quieter questions:
Who gets seen, and when?
Who gets supported, and how?
What continues, and what disappears when the people holding these spaces are no longer there?

The woman who organized this event is being asked to reapply for her position as the university restructures. It’s uncertain what happens next and places like this don’t sustain themselves automatically. When the people holding them are pushed out, they disappear.

This is part of why Wilderness Pathfinder Connections exists. Not as a reaction, but as a continuation and a correction. Because the path forward for women veterans doesn’t end with recognition. It requires structure, access, mentorship, and spaces that are built to last.

If you want to spend more time with the stories from that evening, you can watch the documentary below.

—
Sher “Bearcat” (she/her/siya)
Wilderness Pathfinder Connections
Land-based leadership. Ethical partnership. Long-term development.