I was 21 years old when my husband and I received tickets to our first Air Force Ball in Okinawa, Japan. I had never attended an official military function, let alone a proper ball, so I asked a fellow military spouse what I should wear. She told me to be mindful about what I put together because I now represented my service member and his career.

I found an appropriate dress: royal blue, one-shoulder, with a jeweled bodice. It was pretty without drawing undue attention: not fully bedazzled, not short, but also not a full-skirted ball gown that would make me stand out. I had my hair and makeup professionally done, and on the night of the ball, I looked the part of a military spouse.

To attend her first Air Force ball in 2014, the author was advised to pick a dress that would reflect well on her husband and his career. (Photo courtesy of Alexa LeCureux)

At the time, I thought it was practical advice. Sensible, even. Now I recognize it as something else entirely: a warning disguised as etiquette.

Don’t be that spouse.

Back then, my military experience was limited to Pinterest boards and Hollywood’s depiction of military life. It certainly wasn’t in the welcome packet, but somehow everyone seemed to understand exactly what a proper military wife was supposed to be: Quiet. Grateful. Supportive.

The proper spouse wore the right outfits that portrayed the right message. She attended every ceremony and squadron event. She kept a happy home so her service member could focus on his career. She was reserved, kept her opinions to herself, and showed unwavering pride. (Yes, military spouses aren’t exclusively women, but “that spouse” almost always was.)

I took the advice seriously and subconsciously carried it with me through every graduation, change of command, squadron holiday party, and spouse get-together. My outfits and accessories were meticulously planned to meet an unspoken standard. I avoided shirts with low necklines, jeans that felt too casual, colors that didn”t fit the acceptable palette.

I traded the bright colors and casual outfits I favored before military life for looks that felt more polished and were likely to pass inspection by an audience I couldn’t quite identify.

I compared my choices to those of the women who seemed to know the rules better. Even when no one said anything directly, I found myself wondering whether a dress was too much, too casual, too noticeable.

Alexa LeCureux and her husband at a squadron holiday party in New Mexico in 2017. She learned to favor red, white, and blue clothes to meet an unspoken dress code. (Photo courtesy of the author)

My wardrobe became a collection of blue hues with the occasional red and white mixed in: fashionable, patriotic, modest, and appropriately classy. Curated to represent my husband well and avoid becoming “that spouse.”

Over a dozen years as a military wife, I’ve listened to conversations about spouses who stopped attending events. The question was never whether they were overwhelmed, struggling, simply exhausted, or had a career of their own. Instead, the conversation was about whether they truly understood the life they married into.

I’ve heard gossip about a spouse who spoke honestly about the challenges of a deployment. Her circumstances were never considered. The response was often immediate: She signed up for this.

I’ve seen heads turn when a spouse walked into a military function wearing something that clearly missed the tacit dress code. Nobody confronted her directly, but the whispers conveyed their own message.

“Who is her husband?”

“Wait until the command sees her.”

I now realize that the comments weren’t about fashion choices. They were about the expectation that military spouses should be the supporting characters in someone else’s story.

I’ve experienced it myself. After venting about the exhaustion of solo parenting (like the broken boiler and trips to urgent care with three sick kids) through back-to-back temporary assignments that required my husband to travel, I was reminded to consider how difficult it must be for him to leave and how he must feel being away from his family.

Over time, I learned how to interpret the messages: Don’t be the spouse who focuses on your own career. Don’t be the spouse who is honest about the cost of this life.

Don’t post the mess that comes with every move. Don’t show the overwhelmed version of yourself when Murphy’s Law hits, everything is broken, and your spouse is gone. Stay composed. Stay curated.

Don’t discuss the instability of constant moves, the mold in base housing, the mice in the walls. Don’t mention the hours spent on the phone fixing Tricare billing mistakes. Don’t speak about the emotional cost of being strong.

In 2024, Alexa LeCureux delivered her third child without her husband present, because he had to leave for Officer Training School three days prior to the birth. (Photo courtesy of the author)

Don’t turn your ugly reality into public news.

I’ve been warned by seasoned spouses that our words have consequences, and those consequences fall on our service members.

At 21, I didn’t recognize the warning for what it was. I was raised to believe that women could have their own identities, opinions, and careers, and that marriage didn’t erase individuality.

I knew about the expectations but assumed they belonged to an older generation, relics from a different era. Now I realize they’re still very much present, they’re just wearing a different dress.

Recently I encountered the warning again, after publishing an essay in The War Horse about having a different opinion from my husband, an Airman. In the accompanying social media post, commenters revealed who they believed a military spouse should be.

“Still collecting that BAH and Tricare with glee though…talk about ungrateful.”

“As a spouse, your opinion is irrelevant.”

“Gross, second lieutenant needs to go find a new wife. This one is broken and will ultimately derail his military career one way or the other.”

Within hours, an outdated narrative formed nationwide across every platform sharing my essay, revealing how quickly an independent opinion could be reframed as disloyalty, a troubled marriage, or a threat to a service member’s career.

“Shame on her,” wrote a commentator when a newspaper in Georgia ran the essay. “I was an Air Force wife for 26 years. Many of us don’t agree with the administration on many things. And that’s fine. But your job as a military wife is not to openly agree or disagree, it is to keep your mouth shut and support your husband.”

Even those close to me asked why I wanted to “poke the bear.” My father, who encouraged me to speak my mind and be independent, wondered what would prompt me to willingly step into that kind of backlash.

I didn’t question whether I had been wrong to write about my feelings. But I was struck by what the reaction revealed: Military spouses are placed into a predefined role, not only by civilians but by the military culture itself.

It was never about a dress. Fourteen years later, I finally understand the “advice.” I just don’t obey it anymore.

This War Horse Reflection was edited by Kim Vo, fact-checked by Jess Rohan, and copy-edited by Mollie Turnbull.

Alexa LeCureux is a military spouse and writer who explores the complexities of service, patriotism, and family life in the armed forces. She has spent over a decade supporting her husband’s career, first as a loadmaster and more recently as an Air Force KC-135 pilot, while raising their children in military communities across the United States and overseas. Her writing reflects the lived experience of military families and the quiet weight of life behind the uniform.