“Society looks at veterans as broken people,” says Mandee Juza, a retired Army captain who served two tours in Iraq between 2003 and 2006. “We’re not broken. We’ve been altered by our service and the coping skills learned when your life is always under attack. We’re just trying to readapt to your [civilian] world.”
To help her fellow veterans adjust to non-military life, Juza returned from service to build on her bachelor’s degree in psychology and complete a master’s in social work. As part of her education, Juza interns at the Portland Veteran Medical Center, working 12 hours a week in individual therapy sessions of veterans with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). “I went to counseling to treat my own PTSD,” Juza says. “It helped me tremendously to deal with the traumatic experiences and readjust to civilian life.”
Juza also currently works for the Department of Veteran Affairs (VA) with an in-patient program for homeless veterans seeking treatment for substance abuse.
“I know this is my passion,” Juza says. “Helping veterans will be my life’s work.”
Through her work Juza says she hopes to educate the general public because many civilians don’t understand that female veterans often see combat just as much as their male counterparts.
“I experienced enemy fire on all but one mission,” she adds. “I served my country alongside the male soldiers just as proudly.”
Juza was inspired to join the military by her grandmother’s service in the Marine Corps and wants her work to provide veterans new coping skills for post-military life.
“Veterans, especially female veterans, can often feel isolated and without proper resources,” Juza says. “I’ve found it personally satisfying to be able to lead veterans to these resources and help set them on the right path again.”
 
Ree McSween 
Ree McSween sits in a coffee shop, noticing every movement. When the bell above the door jingles her eyes dart, taking in her surroundings: the art-covered walls, the whistling teapot, the constant chatter that others ignore but that seems to bother her.
“Just checking,” she says, her chest heaving as she calms down.
Dealing with PTSD as a military sexual trauma (MST) veteran can make the simplest of tasks a struggle.
“When you’ve been raped and are scared of half the population you have to convince yourself to put your shoes on and leave the house without a gun,” says McSween, a Coast Guard veteran who served as a petty officer second class and gunner’s mate between 1989 and 1994. “Even years after service, I have to remind myself not to be scared.”
In addition to identifying as an MST veteran, McSween suffered an automobile accident just before being honorably discharged. She continues to struggle with the resulting back pain. Her wounds, both mental and physical, began to heal when she immersed herself in adaptive recreation, which includes sports and equipment designed to fit the needs of injured individuals, many of whom are veterans.
In 2011, McSween attended the National Veterans Summer Sports Clinic. She traveled to San Diego, California, where she joined hundreds of fellow veterans from across the nation for activities ranging from cycling to kayaking. Each state sent a group to participate in events led by family members, volunteers, and even active duty Marines. “It was incredible to watch as veterans who hadn’t been able to function wanted to come alive in the water,” McSween says.
The most impactful part of the experience for McSween was her close participation with an all-male team.
“I had been so scared of men for so many years,” she says, “but through sports, I slowly found that rather than being healed by women, I was healed by the realization that these men were not the ones who had hurt me and that they too were dealing with PTSD.”
After returning from the clinic, McSween and her teammates dedicated themselves to continuing their active lifestyle. In April 2012, McSween launched her own program called Cycling for Veterans. Open to both veterans and civilians, Cycling for Veterans team members train together in hopes of attending the next adaptive sports clinic this summer.
McSween now reaches out to both male and female veterans to encourage them to join the group. She continues to focus her energy on healing her mental wounds so that one day she can sit in a coffee shop and ignore the jingling bell over the next open door.
 
Priscilla Robinson
For Priscilla Robinson, life during military service simply meant blending into the crowd. 
“When you’re a woman in the military you have to fit in with the boys. I often acted like an 18-year-old boy in a locker room just to fit in,” says Robinson, a retired Air Force photojournalist and forensic photographer. “Coming back to civilian life, it’s hard to change your habits over night.”
Robinson served from 2001 to 2005 as a senior airman in Hawaii, South Korea, and Italy. Since returning home to Oregon, she’s found it difficult to blend back into civilian life and to even hold a job. Robinson says her PTSD comes from her experiences as a forensic photographer, a job that involved documenting bodies decimated by rape and domestic violence.* Sometimes Robinson even had to photograph individuals she knew.
“My photos for the Air Force were used to debrief politicians and military personnel throughout the Pentagon. Now I’m working at places like Nordstrom,” says Robinson, who is currently unemployed. “It’s the most devastating experience I’ve had to deal with.”
Robinson says her PTSD symptoms include forgetfulness (she often stops midsentence and needs to be reminded what she was talking about) and depression. Since retiring from the Air Force, she has held a series of entry-level jobs, working for a few months until, she says, her manager tires of having to train and re-train her on simple assignments that she simply can’t remember: “Even the nicest people eventually get frustrated. It’s just not fair.” As a result of her struggle for employment, Robinson says she has faced homelessness and considered suicide.
She’s not alone. Suicide rates among young female veterans are three times higher than among female civilians, according to a 2010 study conducted by Portland State University and Oregon Health and Science University.
Robinson uses art as an outlet for her emotions, often creating between 25 to 30 pieces a week. She illustrates her political views in abstract paintings, sometimes including women’s bodies morphing into armor with spikes between their legs and brass knuckles on their nipples. Someday Robinson hopes to sell her work and prosper in an atmosphere that allows her to heal at her own pace.
 
Karen Denman
“I had an expectation that when I got out of service I’d be able to do anything, go anywhere and be offered a job in the field of my choice, but civilian life just doesn’t work that way,” says Karen Denman, a retired Naval Reserve photographer.
Denman, who began her service in 1964, believes that female veterans struggle after they’re discharged because of how society treats all women. She blames the lack of available team building activities such as sports, which leave young girls without the experience necessary to work well in a group. Because women are viewed as independent workers and unsuitable for teams, Denman says society treats female veterans with the same attitude despite their service and obvious team participation.
“Even in the military, men have a set opinion of how a woman will behave and how they can treat all women,” she says. “I refused to learn how to type and I made the worst coffee I possibly could so that I could avoid being a secretary. Eventually they accepted that I wanted to become a photographer for the Navy.”
Since her retirement in 1994, Denman continues to participate and encourage others to join in team building activities. She plays soccer, basketball, and golf with friends.
“I’ve loved sports all my life,” Denman says. “I used to throw a ball around with my dad when I was little.”
In addition to sports, Denman gardens, plays the timpani in the Rogue River Community College Orchestra, and restores old cars on the 30-acre property where she and her partner live in Rogue River, Oregon.
Most recently, Denman started the nonprofit Play It Forward. She gathers old instruments (often from local school music programs or from colleagues in the orchestra), repairs them, and gives them away to individuals who can’t afford to buy a new instrument.
“I have two rules with these instruments,” Denman says. “First, if you get an instrument from me you have to play it. Second, you can’t sell the instrument. It’s been given to you and you must give it away either to another individual or back to the program.” In this way Denman hopes to continue the spirit of giving she feels is crucial to leading a successful life.
 
Elizabeth Luras
“I may be only 31 years old and retired from the Army, but I know that my passion and my calling in life is to not forget my sister soldiers who continue to fight more wars than they volunteered to,” says Elizabeth “Liz” Luras, a retired private first class code copier.
“I was raped in the military three times, but the silence ends here,” she says. “If breaking the silence helps even one of my freedom fighting sisters or brothers from experiencing rape, than the courage it takes to speak up is worth it.”
Luras now advocates for MST veterans (those who have suffered sexual trauma while in the military) in what is increasingly being called the Invisible War.
“The Invisible War refers to those of us who have been sexually assaulted in the military,” Luras says. “The ‘war’ that I was in was one that has been waged against military women for generations, but it is one in which no awards, no accommodations, and no hazardous duty pay is given.”
After being honorably discharged in 2001, Luras now dedicates her time to advocating for her “sister soldiers.” She interns at the VA Hospital in Portland and volunteers for many veterans’ organizations including Central City Concern, an award-winning nonprofit that provides access to housing, healthcare, and support groups for Oregon veterans who feel alienated from society.
In May, Luras traveled to Washington, D.C., to participate in the 2012 Truth and Justice Summit. During the one-day conference, Luras and fellow MST veterans spoke to members of Congress, policy experts, and the general public about their personal experiences in the military and what they want to see changed. Their stories were told alongside key panels on topics ranging from military violence to a survivor’s access to justice. The summit was the first of its kind to bring together survivors of military sexual assault and their families for the purpose of institutional change.
Luras is not the only MST veteran speaking out about sexual assault. In January 2012, The Invisible War premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. Critics described the documentary as “a gut punch of moral outrage.” Women in the US military, the film says, are more likely to be assaulted than killed by enemy fire with “only 8 percent of sexual assault cases prosecuted and only 2 percent resulting in convictions.”
“It takes a lot of courage to stand up and talk about this war, but I have to because I know that the scars of being an MST survivor never leave,” Luras says. “It’s important, even as a veteran, to always remember your sister soldiers.”
* Corrected from the original “Robinson says her PTSD comes from her experiences as a forensic photographer, a job that involved documenting bodies decimated by battle wounds, rape, and other consequences of war.”