“Our entire life consists ultimately in accepting ourselves as we are.” ~ Jean Anouilh
The term “Military Brat” has been around a long time. In the United States, there have been “Brats” for almost 250 years, ever since the war between the American Colonists and England which created this country in the first place. The term refers to both current and former children of active duty Military personnel who have served or are serving in the Armed Forces, whether in the Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, or Coast Guard.
Although no exact figures are available, the U.S. Department of Defense estimates that around 15 million Americans are former or current military brats, or almost five percent of the entire U.S. population. During my entire life, whenever I met a fellow brat, whether overseas or stateside, we almost always instantly connected easily on a very deep and profound level. We share a tribe, a sub-culture, and a way of life that very few other people can relate to or understand. And even though our particular circumstances as children might have varied widely, we still shared a common experience growing up.
Whenever I'm asked where I'm from, I have to hesitate before I can answer. My usual answer is, “Well, my Dad was in the Air Force for 20 years, so I guess I'm from a lot of places and at the same time, from nowhere really at all.” I try to explain that I lived in several different countries and several different states growing up and I basically never had a chance to dig any deep roots anywhere. So where am I from? That's a good question for any military brat, and is usually very difficult to answer.
But my particular “Brat” experience was probably a little different than the normal one, if there is actually a normal one. Many American military brats never leave the U.S. at all, but instead travel from one stateside base to another every few years while growing up. Others, like many of the people I knew growing up in Spain, had one overseas assignment (Madrid) and the rest of their time was spent at bases stateside. But I spent over ten years in Spain alone, plus another couple of years traveling around Europe after high school, and before that when I was very young, I spent time in such strange locales such as Portugal and Turkey. So for this reason I have to consider myself an Overseas Brat.
Or maybe what I really am is another term that I've discovered recently that attempts to explain a little better such people like myself and that is a “Third Country Kid,” or TCK. TCKs move between cultures before they actually have the opportunity to develop their personal or cultural identities. The first culture refers to the country from which the parents originated, the second culture refers to the culture in which the family resided at, and where the kids spent so much time at growing up, and the third culture refers to the amalgamation or combination of these two cultures, hence a “third” culture. In my case, since I spent so much time living in Spain and the fact that I speak fluent Spanish, when I finally came to Arizona to make my life, I felt a deep kinship and connection with the many Mexican Americans that live in the state. In fact, over 40% of the population of Arizona can claim a Hispanic background, and I guess, in my own unique way, so can I. Yet, my experience as a Hispanic American is much different than the one shared by my many Mexican American friends. The same, but different, as they say.
There are other groups of people with similar experiences and backgrounds as Military Brats, and these include, Foreign Service Brats, sometimes referred as “Diplobrats,” and also Missionary kids, as well as the TCKs mentioned above.
Regardless of what term one uses to describe someone like myself, the fact is that people like me quite often feel that we have no roots, and no real place to call home, since we never had much of an opportunity to create such things. I've met people that were born and raised in their hometown and have never really left. These people have the ability as well as the luxury to have known the same people from kindergarten, and those same people might be living right down the street from them still. They can take a drive over to the high school that they went to and watch a football game on the same field that they used to play themselves 40 years earlier. They can return to the same “lover's lane” where they had their first serious kiss and re-live their earliest romantic moments from the same exact spot. They can see how their friends that they've known their entire lives change, and have families, and grow older just like they do. There's permanence and a completion there that people like myself have never known and will never experience.
Few people realize the fact that Brats serve their country also, and as honorable as any actual serviceman ever has. If a man is drafted or joins the military for a three or four year enlistment, afterwards he returns to his hometown and to his regular life after completing his service to his country, and his life resumes pretty much as it was. And with the only changes he has had are a few years of a different kind of experience under his belt. He can go on with his life with very little changed, unless he had been in a war zone and suffers from PTSD, physical injuries or other consequences of actual combat and battle, but that's a different situation altogether.
For Brats, it's a different story. First of all, we never were asked for our participation. At least, when you're drafted, you know it will end in a couple of years and you can return to your life more or less as usual afterwards. But Brats aren't drafted, but instead we are born into the service, and have no choice about it whatsoever. The average Brat moves six to nine times before finishing high school, and of course we have no “hometown” to call our own. We have very limited contact with our extended families, except for an occasional visit perhaps. Instead of being able to be pampered by grandparents and being able to create relationships with cousins, uncles, aunts and other extended family members, we spent our lives away from these people that most other people take for granted for being a part of their lives. We lived a quasi-military lifestyle for the most part, and this includes the military hierarchy of officers and enlisted men, and the very real and obvious differences between these two groups when it comes to housing, class and social level. At times we were even made to feel almost like we were little “soldiers” ourselves.
We were constantly aware and reminded of the fact that as Americans living in a foreign country, that we were representing America to everyone we came in contact with and to whoever saw us. We as children were expected to be mini-diplomats and be at our best behavior at all times. We made sacrifices that in some ways were as important and as necessary as the soldiers in uniform all over the world. And instead of medals, Veteran benefits, and honor and respect, we sometimes end up suicidal, drug addicted or in prison, trying to find our way in a country that we are technically a part of, yet have so little knowledge of and experience living in. And other times, if we're lucky and strong enough, we just end up mixed up emotionally, lonely, friendless, alienated and with no sense of belonging, and facing severe culture shock upon return to “our” country.
I think some of my experiences that I have related here are good examples of the price that some Brats have paid in their service to their country. When I finally came to the States to live my life in the country that my passport corresponds to, I had a very hard time adapting to the culture and the way of life that I found here. I was taken advantage of, abused, lied to, cheated, neglected, beaten, robbed, and literally left for dead because of my naivete, my inexperience and my ignorance of all things “American.” In this land of the free, and this home of the brave, many times I felt much less free than I did overseas, and not very brave whatsoever. I spent almost my entire youth living in foreign countries, and to this day, unsurprisingly, I still don't feel like the United States is my home or where I really belong.
And in my case, neither is Spain. In 2013, I finally returned to Spain for a three week trip and I traveled around to all the places I remembered so well, including Madrid and all the old neighborhoods I lived in there, as well as Peñiscola, Benidorm, Alicante, and Marbella, and I soon realized that even though Spain is a beautiful country, full of culture and wonderful people and places, I didn't belong there. I was just another tourist among millions of others and although it was nice to visit and remember, it still wasn't where I belonged or where I felt at home at either.
Of course, Spain had changed enormously in the 40 years or so since I had left, but it still retained the purity and the beauty of its ancient and wonderful culture and traditions. The Spaniards seemed to have been able to find the sweet spot between the modern and the traditional. For an example, in Peñiscola, the locals have kept the original buildings and streets of the old part of the town from the days of the Moors, but have modernized them with up to date plumbing, electricity, and with 21st century technology everywhere. The Madrid metropolitan area has a population of over six million people now, but it still retains the charm, the grace and the beauty of the city I remember so well. And above all, for the most part, Spaniards still retain that sense of honor and dignity that I admired so much.
Now one might ask, would I trade my upbringing for a more traditional “American” one? And do I have any regrets about the places I lived and the way I was raised? And would I have preferred to have been raised in a place like San Antonio, Texas or Grove, Oklahoma, my entire life? The answer is absolutely not. My being an Overseas Brat has made me who and what I am today. If my Dad did not have that adventurous spirit and if he had never re-enlisted in the Air Force shortly after World War II, and if he had not decided to put in for special overseas assignments, and if he had stayed in his hometown and settled into a typical American life, I most likely would have been raised in one of these two places I mention above.
Of course I would still have the same body, and occupy the same physical entity, but I would not be the same person I am and who I have been my entire life. The life I lived overseas was an exciting, educational and enlightening experience, and made me the person I am today. I speak three languages, have been in over 30 countries and about an equal number of states, and I have seen things and experienced things in my life that has not only made me the person I am, but has also given me insights, knowledge and wisdom that otherwise I never would have had. And isn't that what life is really all about? Isn't it to live a decent and honorable life and along the way to learn and grow and gain experiences, and the more varied the better?
If I was born and raised in Oklahoma, for an example, I would most likely be that same redneck guy that I detest so much today. I would be the ignorant, tobacco chewing, gun toting, cowboy hat adorned asshole that I've met so many times and who had given me such a hard time after my coming to live in this country. Thankfully, I am not that guy, and I thank my wonderful parents and especially my Dad for having the balls, the courage, the gumption and the desire to do something with himself and to live his life much different than what was expected of him and what could have been an easy path in life. I owe him a great deal of gratitude to him, for not only doing what he wanted and needed to do with his life, but also to give me a chance to be who it is that I am and what I became, and that is an open-minded, tolerant, well traveled, educated, wise, confident, knowledgeable and experienced person. And also someone who I am proud to be, and will always be, an Overseas Brat.
