Is It Finally Time for Women to Register for the Draft?

On Tuesday, high-ranking military officials testified in the Senate about whether the Selective Service System—the independent agency that maintains data on citizens who are eligible for a potential military draft—should be open to women. Since the Department of Defense announced in December that qualified women could take any position in the armed forces, some people—namely, General Mark Milley, Army chief of staff, and General Robert B. Neller, Marine Corps commandant, both of whom spoke at the Senate hearing this week—think all should really be fair in love and war. When asked by Democratic Senator Claire McCaskill if the draft should now be open to women—or, in her words, "all Americans"—the two generals, as well as other top military personnel, responded: Yes, military conscription ought to include eligible women.

The question of whether women should be required to register for the draft has been a concern at the back of many women's minds for years. As the granddaughter of both a conscientious objector and a Women's Army Corps (WAC) veteran, I have some mixed feelings about opening the draft: some anti-war pacifism, but also deep respect for those who serve our country. Getting drafted has been a great fear of mine ever since I read A Prayer for Owen Meany at a young and impressionable age, but getting left out of things because I'm a girl also pisses me off a lot.

Does my aversion to militarization and violence outweigh my coveting of gender equality? What would opening the draft to women actually entail for us? And how would a gender-neutral draft differ from the roles women play in the armed forces already?

Before Defense Secretary Ash Carter's December announcement that all military positions would be open to women starting in 2016, women could not hold "combat" positions, like being in the infantry, and they were previously barred from the draft because they were not allowed these combat positions—rendering the draft restriction moot. The Selective Service law (i.e., the draft), however, currently stipulates draft registry is only compulsory for men between the ages of 18-25, though the government website indicates that, "if given the mission and modest additional resources, [the Selective Service System] is capable of registering and drafting women with its existing infrastructure."

It comes as no big surprise that women who have served the country since its inception have been both underrepresented and perhaps underappreciated. Martial opportunities have not always been equitable for women who want to fight for their country. Since the Revolutionary War, women have provided auxiliary services to the US Army, employed as cooks, laundresses, nurses, and other jobs that are considered "noncombatant." There's the famous story of Molly Pitcher, who is said to have fought in the Battle of Monmouth in 1778, and the less famous stories of women like Sybil Ludington, a 16-year-old who rode farther than Paul Revere to alert colonists about a British attack (and about whom I once wrote perhaps the most obscure 5th grade history report ever). There was also Deborah Sampson, who dressed up as a man in order to fight in the Revolutionary War. Sampson managed to keep her gender a secret for two years—even surviving a groin wound without her compatriots discovering that she had a vagina where they had penises.

During the Civil War, women again participated in "auxiliary" yet crucial roles, but their involvement didn't really ramp up until World War I. More than 35,000 women served in the military in noncombat roles like secretaries, accountants, and radio electricians. Over half of these women were in the Army Nurse Corps.

In 1941, the Women's Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) was introduced as part of a bill in the House of Representatives, and in 1942—shortly after Pearl Harbor—FDR signed the bill. Women now had a segregated branch of the army; Athena, Greek goddess of war strategy and wisdom, was its symbol. The WAAC was upgraded from its "auxiliary" status in 1943 to become simply the Women's Army Corps (WAC) and was an entirely separate division of the army. Backhandedly acknowledging its sexist and racist history, the army website notes, "The U.S. Army is, and always has been, a reflection of American society and values. American society was racially segregated in the 1940s, so too was the Army—and the WAC. That fact did not prevent minority women from serving their country."

Despite the odds, female troops have continued to enlist. Many women served in the Korean, Vietnam, and Gulf Wars. The United States Military Academy—also known as West Point—began accepting women in the mid-70s. But it was not until 2013 that then Defense Secretary Leon Panetta lifted the department's ban on women in direct ground combat roles. "Valor," President Obama stated, "knows no gender."

A former classmate of mine currently enrolled at the United States Military Academy told me that she enjoys the standardization of expectations. At West Point, male and female cadets are held to the same standards and expected to succeed. She echoed the words of former top cadet Lindsey Danilack: "If someone tells me I can't run as fast as the guys running the two-mile, I say, 'You're right.' … But if they say that I can't be as good a leader as them, oh, I'll challenge them on that."

Indeed, even in noncombatant roles, female soldiers, seals, marines, and airwomen risk their lives—and often without the same recognition for their bravery that their male colleagues receive. The commander-in-chief's words, while eloquent and moving, do not account for the way gender is understood in the military. According to a Time magazine report, as of 2015, 15.3 percent of active-duty forces in the US military were women. Sixty-two women graduated from the US Military Academy from the first female class in 1980; since then, more than 4,100 female cadets have attended. In 2014, women made up 22 percent of the incoming class. Last summer, two women became the first female soldiers to complete the Army Ranger course—a rigorous program that started with 381 students and ended with a mere 96.

Then there are the unspoken numbers. In her book The Lonely Soldier, Helen Benedict informs us, "In 2003, a survey of female veterans from Vietnam through the first Gulf War found that 30 percent said they were raped in the military. A 2004 study of veterans from Vietnam and all the wars since, who were seeking help for PTSD, found that 71 percent of the women said they were sexually assaulted or raped while serving." The documentary Invisible War also brings these secrets and facts about what it means to be a woman in the military into public discourse: the pain it breeds and the "valor" it requires. It seems that the United States's problem with inequality in the military has more to do with what over-militarization engenders, like making violence (and violence towards women) commonplace.

But back to the draft: Our military is currently comprised of an all-volunteer force. Selective Service—as it exists now—began before World War II, but it has not had a real effect on men's lives since the early 1970s. The Selective Service Act was suspended in 1973, after backlash from the Vietnam War, and reinstated in 1980. Since 1973, there has been no compulsory service, but all male citizens between the ages of 18 and 26 must register.

At the end of the day, the thought of being added to a list of eligible and healthy youths who would be able to serve in the military creeps me out. I realize my chances of being a soldier are slim to none, but I'm nevertheless left feeling confused about why I worry about the situation in the first place. Although we are a country involved in multiple wars and occupations, it is unlikely that anyone in the Selective Services would be called upon in an active draft—they haven't in a long time. Yet I can't help feeling like another fair initiative would be to end the draft for both genders, rather than conscripting a new one.