Growing up, my family was extra patriotic, which is probably to be expected when both parents serve. But no one was as proud to be an American as my immigrant grandma. She used to get chill bumps on her arms every time she heard the national anthem and sang along like no one was listening. It was so embarrassing for me, a teenager trying to look cool in front of my friends. 

My grandma didn’t sing because she was a great singer or because she felt peer pressured by everyone else singing. She sang because she was deeply proud of my mom’s military service. She was proud of the sacrifice her daughter made for this country. A career my mom chose because she didn’t know how to face the uncertainty of the 80s career market. 

I only learned that because I asked one day why she joined the military while we were walking around the mall. I was waiting for some answer about following in her father’s footsteps or representing our country. It was neither. The choice was not inspired at all.  

“It was a guaranteed paycheck,” she said simply like there was really no other consideration to make when choosing a career. When she graduated college and started looking for a job in the early 80s, that’s all she wanted: a reliable paycheck in an unsteady economic environment. 

But when the military recruiter called our house to recruit me into the Army, she picked up at the same time I did. “Put the phone down, Katrina Lynne,” she said with the tone that made me not even think of questioning orders. Then I heard her say, “soldier, what’s your name and rank?” After a brief pause, she ended the call by saying, “well, my name is Lieutenant Colonel Richardson and you are never going to call this house again.” She was a senior officer and this kid was not going to question orders either. They never called again.

For many years, I didn’t really understand why she wouldn’t even let me consider the reliable path she and my father took for their career. Later, she said it was because she thought I was gay way before I ever said anything. That she knew the military would not be kind to me and that career wasn’t worth the indignity I might face. 

Thinking back on that conversation made me cry this Veteran's Day. I cried because of the sacrifices I know she and so many soldiers have made for that reliable paycheck: community, connection, safety. Joy. The sacrifices she made so I would feel that I had a choice in my own career. A choice that has brought me so much joy. A joy people like my mom and grandmother only dreamt of having at work. 
I also mourned on behalf of every LGBT+ service member, and especially the trans folks who were recently discharged because of who they are. People who made the same sacrifices my mom did for 20+ years that are having their pensions revoked. People who chose a life of service and were rejected for something that wasn’t a choice at all: their identity. Patriotic people and families that deserve all the joy a career - and life - can offer.