I feel honored to have served 15 years, 1 month, and 18 days in the United States military as an airborne Ranger, part of the Special Forces. While fighting in Iraq, and other undisclosed places, I received three purple hearts. But each time, I got patched up and returned to fight the next battle.
In 2013, after serving 27 months in the most hellish place on earth, the government offered me a desk job. But I opted to go home, because Rangers don’t sit on the sidelines. After re-entering the civilian world, I thought my life would be normal. I still see images, though, as if the things I witnessed only happened fifteen seconds ago. Something as simple as an unattended bag on the sidewalk will set me on edge.
Everyone expected me to come back as the same person who left fifteen years ago. But war changes a person. Although I’m a former Ranger, I don’t have a job or a house. My new reality: No one is going to hire a highly specialized veteran. Though I executed my military job very well, working with billion-dollar military equipment, I struggle not to default into automatic-combat-mode. It’s a daily battle not to “rope off” (any military guy knows what that means).
Recently, as I watched a middle-school kid kick a Vietnam War Memorial and say, “Who cares about a bunch of dead people?” I had all I could do to keep my cool. To me, it seems like Americans have zero respect for their country. People think freedom is just a word. But freedom is very expensive; it costs lives. Someone’s son or daughter comes back in a body bag. After serving 15 years, 1 month, and 18 days, I’m just not geared for the civilian world.
Re-Entry
Eight years after leaving the Special Forces, I struggle with re-entry, navigating the gap between military life and the civilian world. Civilians don’t understand the kinds of shit soldiers experience. For ArtPrize, I sacrificed my favorite t-shirt to help society comprehend the vets’ ongoing battles. The lower half of the shirt represents the structure and discipline of military life. The top half portrays chaos, my civilian life.
This project gave me a chance to go deep, to process and unpack some stuff. It’s not easy to talk about a failed marriage and all the missed birthdays and Christmases—part of the personal cost of freedom. But I want my art to shine a light on veteran needs. For years, I risked my life to serve our country and help others—but I still struggle with re-entry.
Our new type of ArtPrize venue gives veterans a voice as they share their stories of struggle and healing through art.
Re-Entry is showcasing at Veterans Memorial Park
A special thanks to Kent County Veterans Services, Zero Day, Finish the Mission, West Michigan Veterans Coalition, Heartside Ministry, and Healing in Arts for making this collaboration of veteran stories possible.
