Last week, before Pete Hegseth was confirmed as the Secretary of Defense, before the tragic Blackhawk and CRJ crash, and the anti-DEI remarks from Trump as rescuers were pulling bodies from the Potomac; before I knew one of the pilots was female (but guessed it based on Trump’s immediate condemnation of the Army pilot), I already knew women were going to be targeted, I just didn’t know it would be this soon or that it would feel this personal.

As a former Army Blackhawk pilot from 2002-2010, I know what it’s like to have to fight men trying to force you out, while simultaneously being told a (nonexistent) program gave you a man’s job for which you are unqualified. I carried with me the heavy knowledge that in case of an accident, not only would I be blamed, but it would cast blame on my entire gender of pilots. During the rare times when I flew with another female pilot, we discussed openly how we had to be extra careful to avoid even a minor mishap, lest the judgment.

I’ve spent days mulling over the unfolding of facts surrounding the Blackhawk/CRJ crash as I’ve been building a retaining wall that will support my new barrel sauna­­­––currently in unassembled pieces scattered across my property. I’m building a self-care sanctuary so I can withstand and maintain my health through the daily onslaught of government dismantling and the rights of everyone who is not a white cis man being curtailed.

I’ve looked at flight paths, altitude, angles, and what would have caused the pilots to miss the descending aircraft coming in from their left quadrant (lots), I’ve listened to the air traffic control recording. I’ve thought of all the times I’ve realized I was momentarily too high by a hundred feet (or more), nearly busted airspace, or realized I was tracking the wrong aircraft I was supposed to see and avoid. These were normal pilot errors with normal corrections. But time to correct is the critical factor. And sometimes, it’s just luck.

Air accidents are generally caused by a succession of usually three or more small errors that cascade to form an unfortunate event, or one large error or cataclysmic event. In this case, I believe like many pilots, that the aircrew likely had another departing aircraft in sight and when ATC queried them to confirm they had “aircraft in sight” it was a departing aircraft they confirmed, not the landing aircraft converging with them. Seconds later, without time for correction, the landing CRJ and Blackhawk impacted a few hundred feet above the Potomac River. Everyone plunged to their deaths in the shallow frigid January water.

The alleged errors had stacked up.

1. The Blackhawk was at 350 ft (by some reports) rather than below 200 ft (which might have been a transient moment of altitude aberration). [As of 2/14 new info from the FAA suggests the blackhawk altimiter read 278 ft. at impact.]

2. They may have identified the wrong aircraft.

3. ATC wasn’t explicit about which aircraft to see and avoid. [Lack of staffing for proper monitoring was likely a factor as only one FAA personnel was monitoring both helicopters and airplanes which was non-standard according to news reports: ]

Three minor errors by flawed humans had stacked up.

While my assessment is all speculation, the bottom line remains: this was a tragic accident having nothing to do with anyone’s gender. There is no penis keyhole to start a black hawk. A Blackhawk does not know or care what sex part dangles or doesn’t dangle between your legs A Blackhawk does what you tell it to do. Collective and Cyclic. No gender’s better or worse at flying and the lift equation and laws of gravity do not discriminate

Last weekend, when everyone in this accident was still living out their best lives eating sandwiches and planning trips, our island in the Pacific Northwest was full of sunny cold days that lend themselves to building and deconstructing and cutting the pieces of a puzzle you assemble in your mind.

I was outside building a platform for my new sauna when I texted a friend looking for scrap wood and then went to the lumber yard and talked to a man about screws and rebar and pressure treated 4 x4s. He said it’s not called rebar when it’s short, mentioned torque, and cautioned me about my impact drill twisting up on me.

I think he might have thought I looked like I could break my wrists driving in these long lag bolts. He’s not wrong. I’m petite and in my fifties and have to use different techniques. I brace the drill with my knees instead of relying on sheer arm strength at times. The man was riding that line between helpful and insulting, and thankfully for his sake, he sensed when to stop short. He obviously didn’t know I’ve spent my life in a world built for men and I expect everything and everyone is going to try and break my wrists.

As I pounded rebar into my retaining wall with the stub end of a splitting maul, I thought about Hegseth and his outspoken stance against women in military combat roles. I thought of the outstanding women and men I served with and some of the men I’d encountered in the Army who would admire him.

Men who didn’t think women should be there.

There was the recruiter who didn’t want to waste his time on a small woman when big tough guys couldn’t make the cut for flight school.

The drill Sargent who told our whole class that having women like me flying helicopters made us all less safe since men are programmed to save women first instead of real (male) soldiers.

The Instructor Pilot who tried to get me thrown out of flight school with reasons that all pointed to flying while female.

The major who stalked me home from the bar and I only escaped his advances by outrunning him. Then when I complained was told I was overreacting.

The Staff Sergeant in Korea who stuck his boot in my crotch as he told me I needed to get knocked down a few notches. I was about to make Pilot-in-Command, and apparently, I was starting to display too much confidence.

There was the Major in Alaska who enjoyed humiliating women under his command with sexually explicit comments while degrading their work performance in front of their peers. I was one of only two women in his unit, and after a year of drowning in his toxic waste, I fought back.

Women will never be what makes the military weak, as Hegseth believes and as Trump accuses.

It’s men like Hegseth and Trump who degrade the standard, who fail up, and look for reasons to eliminate anyone different. They are the weakness. They push people down so they can rise.

It actually IS the diversity of the military that makes it so powerful. It’s the black and brown and white and Muslim and Christian and Hindu and male and female and trans and straight and gay who come together for a common goal and become one. As our inspirational black Drill Sergeant, DS Baskerville, told us in Basic Training, “Your skin color is camouflage. Your gender is soldier!”

Because most of the military is not Hegseths or Trumps, most of it is the good guys who stand up and stand with you and don’t let men like these win.

The good guys are needed even more now.

Don’t sit on your hands. Stand up. Speak out.