I am like any other 20-something college girl. I go to classes (most of the time). I hang out with my friends, watch football and down the occasional beer. I worry about the rising cost of tuition, and when there’s time, I do the required reading for my average fifteen credits.

Odds are, if you saw me walking across the campus, you wouldn’t even give me a second look. Unless, as the case may be, I just happen to be wearing something odd that day. I’m sure in my three years here, I’ve sat next to thousands of you in a class. There’s just one crucial difference: In January, my boyfriend of almost a year left for the war in Iraq. That’s right folks, I am the proverbial military girlfriend. Don’t worry; I’m not looking for sympathy. Now, eight months later, with him safely home on U.S. soil, I have some time to reflect.

I’ll be the first to admit there are a lot of stereotypes about the women who date and marry our nation’s soldiers. I’ve confronted many of them. And truthfully, a year ago, you couldn’t have told me any different. Largely due to the fact that we are a rather isolated breed, these stereotypes perpetuate even in our most liberal circles. Allow me now, in the most gentle way possible, to clear up some of the misunderstandings.

I am not lower class, I am not (thank God) a Republican or an über-patriot and I am not wholly uneducated with aspirations no higher than marriage and staying at home with my children. I am not pro-war or anti-war. As a matter of fact, I hate everyone who maintains illusions that they know anything in that department, because trust me, they don’t. I am not an alcoholic or a nymphomaniac. I might be a little over-sexed, but stupid and a drunk I am not. In fact, the only way you would know I was with a soldier is the single USMC T-shirt hanging in the back corner of my closet, a sticker on my window that says “I love my Marine” and my sometimes conspicuous absences on the weekends I go down to South Carolina to see him.

Since when does my life have to be defined by the career chosen by the man I want to spend the rest of my life with? Don’t get me wrong, I’m fiercely proud of my man. Heaven help anyone who would speak ill of the contribution he made to Operation Iraqi Freedom. I’d like to see any of our fine Maryland boys get mortared every other night and come home in one piece. Or sane for that matter. It’s just that I have (gasp!) a life of my own.

And here’s the real shocker: I am not the exception to the rule. There are many of us out there, many living right here on the campus, going to school, having our own careers or just supporting those overseas. Which, trust me, is a job unto itself. Just like every other woman, we are more than just who we fall in love with.

Besides, even if the majority of military wives conformed to the “norm,” how is that fair to those of us who are making the best of less-than-desirable circumstances?

So, next time you’re out and meet one of these fine women, congratulate them. It’s not an easy job. It’s often thankless and depressing. Lord knows when my boyfriend was overseas, I spent many nights agonizing over whether he would even come home. Think about that the next time you get into a fight with your boyfriend, ladies. At least he’s safe. And all of you should know that without these women’s support, the brave men of the United States Armed Forces could not do their jobs so well. They are, after all, fighting to protect YOUR freedom and YOUR way of life. Who knows, one day that could be you. I say today without shame, indeed with great pride, the sticker on my window is right.

Emilie Wilson is a junior philosophy major. She can be reached at eurohead@umd.edu.