I saw Lone Survivor today. I wept. I’m a female, I can do that sort of thing in public.
Here’s why I wept.
In the first few minutes of the film, watching the Navy SEALS train, I turned to my friends and said what a travesty it would be if the physical requirements were ever adjusted downwards to accommodate women – or anyone who could not meet them for that matter, regardless of gender or orientation. These men, these warriors, are elite for a reason. They are capable of doing things very few can. That’s the way we want and need them to be.
I wept for the mothers, wives, sisters, fathers, brothers and friends of the beautiful, strong and healthy warriors who gave everything to defend the freedoms of this nation, and of others they would never know.
I wept for the people of Afghanistan who are not supporters of the Taliban. Those who can only dream of a different life. Who even in the best of times must eke out their existence in the harshest of conditions. Who will never know the comfort and liberty we do. For the women who will never have the choices I have, and the freedom to chart their own course. Perhaps it is an accident of birth. In some respects, I felt that about Marcus Luttrell himself. It was an accident of fate that he survived and others did not. Such is life, and only God knows the plan for each of us.
But most of all, I wept in anger. I am overcome with rage at the elected politicians who have never served their country in uniform, never seen battle and yet make decisions that affect the life and death of their fellow citizens.
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