50 Stories for 50 Years | Post 21 Swimming existed at the Naval Academy long before women did. That mattered. When I arrived in the summer of 1977, I already knew the water. Age-group swimming since I was eleven. Two-a-day practices in high school. The rhythm of yards and turns, and the particular silence of being underwater while the world above stayed loud. Of all the spaces at the Naval Academy, the pools were the…
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Running Past It
Published June 22, 2026
50 Stories for 50 Years of Women at USNA — Post 20 I grew up at the Naval Academy. Not as a midshipman. As a kid. My father was in the Navy, and on Sunday afternoons, the obstacle course at Hospital Point was a playground. The rope wall. The big wooden structures. My friends and I would swing, hang, and run through them for the pure fun of it. I should have known better than…
Leave a CommentJe Ne Comprends Pas Le Wiz
Published May 4, 2026
50 Stories for 50 Years | #14 There are class ranks, and then there are rooms that don’t care about them. French class was one of those rooms. At the Naval Academy, class year is everything. It shapes how you walk, where you eat, and how you are addressed. I was a plebe.That word meant something, something loud and specific and constant. It meant you were at the bottom, and the bottom was a place…
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Published April 20, 2026
One Woman’s Lived History from the Second Wave I’m interrupting the distant past for a glimpse of the more immediate past, the 50th Anniversary of Service Women at the Academies, and specifically the USNA Women’s celebration in Annapolis. More than 800 women and men, spanning five decades, gathered to mark this milestone. What unfolded over four days was the result of more than a year of effort, a true labor of commitment and care. There…
Leave a CommentThe Tuck, The Slit, The Weird
Published March 23, 2026
Learning to wear a Navy uniform that wasn’t made for us I wore a uniform long before the Navy ever issued me one. From kindergarten through high school, I attended parochial schools where uniforms were simply part of daily life. For girls, that usually meant jumpers or skirts, pleats pressed, hems checked, shirts tucked (or retucked), and a quiet understanding that how you wore the uniform said something about you. So when I arrived at…
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Published March 2, 2026
There are times in your life when you don’t want any attention. You want to keep your head down, your nose clean, and your name out of the public eye. Plebe Summer at the United States Naval Academy was one of those times. Attention meant correction. Correction meant public scrutiny. Public scrutiny meant some calibrated blend of humiliation and demerits. The safest strategy was invisibility. If I could have faded into the granite and brick…
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