Imagine enlisting in the military. The night before you’re sent to boot camp, you sit in a hotel room, alone, and it hits you: You’re leaving everything behind. It’s unclear when, or if, you’ll see your mother, your father, or your siblings again. The friendships you have will never be the same. You’ve signed a multiyear contract relinquishing control of your life to the government. There’s no going back.
I know what this is like because I’ve done it.
They fly you to the city of some military base and drop you off by bus at the entrance. The screaming begins instantaneously. Your only option is to absorb it without response. They take your clothes. They shave your head. They herd you around like cattle and train you to be obedient. You acquiesce. You iron your underwear into tight little envelopes of starched precision. You snap quickly to attention. At boot-camp graduation, you become a real soldier and are afforded a brief respite with family, a great luxury because it’s your first chance to wear clothes of your own choice.