FORT LEAVENWORTH, Kan. — I’m Capt. Melissa Vargas, and I was born in Florida to two Mexican immigrants. However, my earliest memories were of growing up in Savannah, Georgia’s surrounding towns, where I lived until I decided to join the Army. My brother and I grew up in a Spanish-speaking home; neither of us knew that we were in an English-speaking country until my mother dropped me off at kindergarten. School was isolating, and I began to withdraw and gain weight. I was terrified of public speaking because of my accent, but I was in all the academically gifted programs. That made me even more frustrated with my shyness; I was intelligent for no reason.
Growing up, my mom watched telenovelas and dad watched soccer on Univision. I remember as early as age ten, the thirty-second segments called “Orgullo Hispano” — Hispanic Pride — that would run as ads on the channel. They’d feature Latino doctors, authors, astronauts, athletes and artists doing amazing things in the United States and around the world. Every single time, without fail, mom or dad would ask us “Eres un orgullo hispano?” My brother and I would confirm, and they’d say “Pues echale ganas! Tu puedes!” Basically, it was an “Are you a Mexi-CAN or a Mexi-CAN’T?” type of rallying and they’d egg us on saying “Well go for it, then! You got it!” We never knew what “it” was that we were going for, just that my parents would say “One day, that’ll be you on Univision as an Orgullo Hispano.” It was then that I started internalizing that you can do anything you want in life; the only one stopping you is yourself and you only fail if you quit. My pride is my work ethic.
This kind of encouragement pushed me harder to speak English more fluently, lose my accent and start playing soccer. In my middle school years, I dropped from 185 pounds to about 140 pounds and became more confident in leadership roles and extracurriculars. My PSAT scores were good enough for both West Point and the Air Force Academy to send me recruiting mail; my extracurriculars and SATs helped me build a packet that got me accepted to both schools. I got to visit both, and I chose West Point because it felt the most like home through the Latino community that I met while I was visiting. It’s like they were saying, “You’re one if us; you can do this.” Like my own family would.
When I did basic training, I stress-fractured both hips and had the option of recovering at home and coming back. To me, that sounded like quitting, and my family’s situation might have kept me in Savannah if I didn’t stay at school to heal. My injuries were a factor, but it would be my choices that would dictate success or failure. By the next summer I passed my PT test, and I was on track to continue my education at West Point, thinking I wanted to be a signal or military intelligence officer. During Cadet Field Training in my second summer, I enjoyed small unit tactics and patrolling, but I wasn’t sure if it was for me. During my third summer at Cadet Troop Leader Training, my cadre, led by Sgt. 1st Class Davot, gave me high marks on patrolling and said I should consider field artillery — infantry wasn’t yet open to women — because they could use someone like me. Naturally, I heard, “You’re one of us; you can do this.”
I commissioned as an field artillery officer and enrolled in Pre-Ranger at Field Artillery Basic Officer Leader Course even though there were no slots for women; I really wanted to be at a higher physical standard because I wanted to be the officer that Soldiers could trust in combat arms. When Ranger School opened to women, I stuck with the program, hoping I’d improve enough to get a slot. I didn’t, but I was better than where I started.
When I got to my first unit, I was a fire support officer in an armored battalion and mechanized infantry company. Leaders who knew I still had Ranger School aspirations and would say “When you go to Ranger School…” instead of “If you go.” Their confidence in me resonated the same way my parents would say I’d do great things. When Infantry opened to women, I was already moved at my artillery battalion, but my infantry and armor leadership reached out and encouraged me to branch transfer. Again, I heard “You’re one of us; you can do this.”
Since transferring, I graduated the Infantry Basic Officer Leader Course, the Maneuver Captain's Career Course and finally Ranger School. I then went to Germany to be a successful staffer, troop commander and observer coach/trainer. From my time in field artillery to now, my heritage has influenced the kind of energy I bring into my leadership style as it adjusts with each formation.
Culturally, Mexicans are very family-oriented, and everything is a collective societal effort. We always want the people junior to us to be more successful and the seniors never let you forget that individual success is a measure of the family or unit’s success. “Echale ganas!” — "Give it your all!" is a rally and anything worth struggling through is won through blood, sweat and tears. I always talk to people about “when” not “if” they’ll achieve their goals. Just because it’s hard, doesn’t make it impossible.
The troopers never cared about my gender, they cared that I was genuine, competent, confident and trustworthy. A small part of that was embracing my heritage; it’s a part of who I am that I shouldn’t try to hide. A Soldier once asked me if I was the first Latina infantry commander. I flippantly said “Yeah, I guess, if people are counting.” He said he felt proud about it as a Latino and I should be, too. I’ve gotten similar comments in my career, making me realize that I might not be on Univision, but I’m an “Orgullo Hispano” that inspires someone, somewhere whether I know it or not — just like the ones who inspired me
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