Originally published on metropolis.co.jp on June 2014

As a military spouse in Japan, my defining characteristic has become unemployment. “What does she do all day?” My husband gets asked this question a lot—by his fellow Navy pilots, his family, his friends and even strangers. I do, too.

Many others are in the same boat, whether the spouse of an armed forces service member or the other half of an expat couple. Most have a college degree—if not more advanced education—work experience and goals. But the train of thought goes: Until you speak Japanese, consider your career on pause.

Yet this non-native excuse doesn’t seem to hold water; the proverbial noses of the elite turn up, a sting felt round the world not just by spouses in tow but of course stay-at-home parents. Being an English teacher (ironic since many also don’t speak Japanese) just doesn’t feel like it matters when you’re the only one at the dinner party not saving lives (albeit they’re risking theirs) or working a glamorous, full-time job in Tokyo.

Nobody deserves to be denigrated but it happens. And it’s plain difficult not to care what people think. Still, attached to the uniformed services, we have it easy.

Military spouses have these magical things called bases that offer every resource we could want: a week-long orientation when you first arrive, off-base housing help, easy ways to pay your bills and get rid of your garbage, language classes, childcare, shopping, movies, a place to rent all kinds of sporting equipment, classes to learn traditional tea ceremony and ikebana flower arranging—even your own travel agency with specials and deals. Where do I get a cell phone? Right here. Where do I get a car? Right here. You’re essentially spoon-fed a driver’s license and vehicle registration. And the community support network is impressive, from Fleet and Family Services to wives ensuring that everyone is safe, fed and laughed with.

Not every process is simple or seamless, or without the other caveats of a bureaucratic organization. Your social life isn’t always peachy; being tied to the base is being in a fishbowl. But these problems are eye-roll worthy compared to what expats face with an overseas transition minus the aid.

However, Japan is a pretty ideal place to live: clean, kind and wholly entertaining. Being chiefly illiterate and knowing only basic Japanese are rarely obstacles worth ranting about. If you have any pluck at all, off-base Japan is sublime as long as you allow time for road traffic and you’re willing to wait a few minutes to warm up or cool down your house.

U.S. military spouses tend to adopt holier-than-thou attitudes. We think having a baby more than an hour from mom and dad and a few missed family reunions are Greek tragedies. I catch myself thinking that being uprooted and putting any dreams on hold is somehow harder than putting my life on the line every day: studying constantly, stressed constantly.

What I’m learning is we’re really not that different from a lot of other spouses scattered across the planet, those whose jobs take a backseat for some good reason or another.

To our credit, some of us “significant military others” are practically single parents (read: superheroes). Some sit alongside their studying partners into the wee hours. We all worry when they’re gone. And many give back, making the effort to get to know their Japanese neighbors, making connections teaching English classes or volunteering at the Marine Corps Relief Society or American Red Cross.

Yet in the end, being a military spouse is a first-world sacrifice we all agreed to.  We can whine about being viewed purely as party-planners and bakers and crafters, or wail about simply been seen as another member of the so-called backstabbing “knives (wives) club”—but when it comes right down to it, we lead a charmed life.

We can eat M&Ms and watch Netflix all day or hop a free flight to Hawaii if we want. Yes, I’m spoiled. But I’m here by his side, and all I’m asking for is a little respect.