The Scratchy Purple Shirts

The Month of the Military Child takes place in April and serves as a time to express awareness and appreciation for the lives of military children. It’s an important time within the military community, recognizing the kids (many of whom have been affected since birth) who have had to make sacrifices due to their parents' status as members of the military.

As a military child myself, the first thing that came to mind when I thought of the Month of the Military Child was the scratchiest shirt I’ve ever worn in my life. Purple is the color designated to represent this month, and as a little “perk” to show support, each year my elementary school would provide all of the younger students with these scratchy, bright purple shirts that said “Military Kid” across the front for us to wear. Once a week, for the entire month of April, we had to wear these shirts to school, posing for pictures on the school’s Facebook page and the local newspapers.

While the adults intended it to show support and for it to be a little group activity to make us feel “seen,” you can probably guess that there wasn’t a single person who actually enjoyed wearing those shirts. So, during a month that was supposed to make us feel appreciated, my second-grade class probably resembled more of a ball of itchy hate.

Many Aprils later, I moved to a decently sized town in Ohio, where I began to feel like a total outcast. While the bustling cities I had lived in throughout Germany and Korea were my normal, they now seemed like an alternate reality compared to the Midwestern suburb I found myself in. I was relatively quiet, and most people didn’t know much about me, let alone the fact that I had lived all over the globe. However, when people did discover that I was a military kid, they didn’t understand what it meant or anything about it. It was jarring to realize that what had once felt like the entirety of my life - being involved with the military - had suddenly become irrelevant. 

The year went on, and I found myself scrolling through my old camera roll. Suddenly, I came across a picture of my brother and me standing together, somewhat grumpily, in our scratchy purple shirts as we were sent off to school in the morning. It hit me all at once: it was April. Yet, there was more missing from my life at that moment than just the scratchy purple shirts.

My entire childhood was absorbed in the lifestyle that comes with being so close to the military. Military life never left me, and I never left military life. When one is deeply immersed in a lifestyle, they tend to take the community that comes with it for granted. There was always a shared understanding and appreciation between families that I didn’t notice until I left. If a parent needed a babysitter, someone to pick up their groceries, or even a car to borrow, there was always someone who understood them and was ready to help. I'd never fail to make new friends wherever I moved because all the other kids were already familiar with the same experience.

It was only after the fact that I realized I had taken this community for granted. I was so focused on things like how scratchy my shirt was that I never took a step back to appreciate how fortunate I was that a shirt was my biggest problem and that I had never once struggled with feeling unappreciated or unseen.

Since that moment, the month of April has gained a new meaning, not one of purple shirts or something I completely skipped over, but one of appreciating the life I had already lived and taking the opportunity to inform others about this lifestyle. I’ve made sure to be the person I wish I had been when I first arrived as a new student at my school. Lastly, I’ve made sure to share my “odd” life with others to inform them about military kids instead of hiding away the parts of me that are different. I am a military child, and I'm proud of it.