In 1979, my father began an application to serve in the U.S. Army, a few short years after he immigrated to the United States. He didn’t look like a typical candidate for the Army by any means. He had a long beard and turban, as part of his Sikh identity, and joined with every expectation that the Army would reject his application. In the months that followed, the cards lined up, and he received word that he would be accepted as an officer with his turban and beard. He didn’t expect it to become a career and he had every intention of leaving after a few years. But when the U.S. Army changed it’s dress and appearance standards in the 1980s, now forbidding turbans and beards, he realized he had even more reason to stay. He had to stay and fight those standards and continue to show he loved this country just as much as the soldier next to him.

 

As a little girl growing up in a military town, I grew up quite different compared to a lot of other Sikh kids my age. As I watched my father tie his camouflage-colored turban before heading to work, I would sit there and admire his uniform. I didn’t know much of what the uniform meant, but I do vividly remember the pride he had on his face as he put it on every morning with a sense of duty and service. He ended up spending 29 years of his life doing just that. Not many people know his story, but he is the highest-ranking Sikh to serve active duty with a turban in the U.S Army. He paved the way not only for other Sikhs to join with their articles of faith intact, but other religious minorities wanting to serve this country.

 

As a military kid, I always thought of my father’s experience as “normal.” It wasn’t until I started hanging out with other Sikh kids at Gurmat camps that I realized I was the only one who had a parent serving in the U.S. military. I was always excited to share his story with them, distancing myself from it in many ways thinking it can never be part of mine. My life has come a long way since then, and about 3 years ago, I began thinking of a career in the armed forces more seriously. I, too, started the process, thinking that my application would be one that would be tossed out. However, as destiny would have it, the cards lined up for me too.

 

In August 2019, my recruiter asked me if I had a person in mind for who I wanted to give my initial oath of enlistment. I didn’t have to think twice, I wanted my father to be the one to give my oath of enlistment. As I stood, rose my right hand, and read the oath, it was an overwhelming rush of emotions, knowing I was continuing a tradition that my father fought so hard to even get his foot through the door.