It’s been more than 12 years since I deployed to Iraq. I worked as a human intelligence operative for special operations. I used to meet secretly with informants in really dangerous places – some of whom were terrorists themselves – to get information on where to find Al Qaeda senior leaders. I volunteered, because my fellow brothers and sisters had volunteered to lay their lives down to defend freedom and democracy. Protecting them was an honor, and I knew in my bones I was meant to do this work.
When people hear about the work I did, they always comment about how cool it is that I was a real life spy. And objectively, I can agree with them. The truth is, I was scared the entire time I was there. Not because I worried about dying – it didn’t really scare me – but because I worried people would figure out I didn’t know what I was doing and that I didn’t belong. I suffered from a textbook case of imposter syndrome.
I was fresh-out-of human intelligence training school. I went to some world class schools where they taught me what makes people tick and how to use my skillset to save lives. But as we all know, there’s a big difference between the classroom and real life. I was brown, small, and woman in probably the most Type-A macho world on the planet.
Vulnerability moment: there were many nights I cried and prayed to God (the Universe/the Creator/whatever term you prefer) and asked why I had been built as a petite Latina. Deep down, I felt bigger and more powerful than I looked. I can remember other times in my career seeing pictures of myself with unit members and being shocked at how small I was. Without a doubt, I felt my insides did not match my outside and that I had been built incorrectly. But “fake it ‘til you make it” was my mantra at the time as I put my “everything is fine” face on in front of my co-workers.
One day, I got a hot lead on a potential new informant. I briefed my boss and asked for permission to leave the base to meet with this promising lead. He denied my request. Later, my ‘terp – our term of endearment for our wonderful interpreters – and I were talking. I can’t remember who said it first, but I know he confirmed it:
My boss didn’t let me go, because I was a woman. The danger was too great.
Part of that world-class training involved understanding how to weigh risk vs. reward. My job was literally to leave the relative safety of the base and go into the most hostile environment in the world to go meet with people who may or may not also want to kill me. There is nothing more stressful than meeting with a terrorist whose wife made you a whole bunch of food as a ‘thank you’ for the briefcase of money you gave him, because his information led to the capture of an influential terrorist. I knew it was culturally offensive to refuse food, but accepting food from an informant was a big no-no in my world. Of course I valued my life, but I also didn’t deploy halfway around the world to sit in my office and type reports. We were there to stop people from dying, and my instincts were honed enough that I knew when it was worth it to risk my life.
Needless to say, I was devastated. All I wanted to do was prove my value to the team and help the cause, and I interpreted his decision to mean I wasn’t good enough. What I didn’t realize was that being a small Latina was my superpower. I could go into parts of the country my ripped non-latin brothers couldn’t get into. No one expected me to be the spy. I also found it easier to build relationships with some of my higher level informants than my other counterparts did. Some of the people I met were very skeptical of my male co-workers for obvious reasons, but my appearance disarmed them. This allowed me to build trust more quickly with them. In fact, many heads of intelligence agencies have said women make better spies.
Once I allowed this thought to be reframed in my mind, my world really opened up. Embracing all the beautiful elements of my culture and heritage not only made me more effective in the work space, but I also felt more integrated with myself. Iraqis and Latin@s have a lot more in common than I anticipated. Our shared values of family, spirituality, and even the food was similar. This not only allowed me to better connect with the people I came into contact with, but eating a plate of biryani was almost like eating a plate of my abuela’s arroz con gandules (frijoles).
If your body and spirit are feeling divorced from each other, it’s likely because you’re not walking in alignment with who you were created to be. You have a unique set of values, beliefs, and mission. There has never been anyone like you nor will there be anyone like you ever again in the history of humanity. And you have a specific gift to give to the world! The sooner you can integrate all the beautiful parts of yourself and make peace with your past, the sooner you can get to the world-changing work you know you have been called to.
And hermana, if this scares you…take heart.
Courage cannot exist without fear.
The same way a rainbow cannot exist without the rain or how a pinch of salt makes the flavor and sweetness of a dessert pop.
To start this journey to wholeness: what is one small way you can honor all the parts of yourself today?
