Breaking Barriers: Refusing the Marginalization of Status Quo
Dominique Raymond doesn’t speak in slogans. She speaks in truths—quiet, considered, and deeply felt.
Raised on the South Side of Chicago, Raymond grew up surrounded by tension and noise. Yet even in the chaos, she sensed something different stirring within her. “I didn’t think like the people around me,” she said. “It wasn’t about being better or worse—I just felt different. I wanted more.”
Eventually, that yearning led her to enlist in the Marine Corps at just 17. Drawn not by spectacle but by sincerity, she found clarity in a single conversation. “The Army recruiter was flashy,” she recalled. “But the Marine was honest. He said it was the toughest branch. I thought, ‘That’s what I need. I need to be braver.’”
Over the next eight years, Raymond served with quiet determination, from Marine Corps bases in Okinawa to Camp Pendleton, California, and Marine Corps Air Station Miramar, her role in the military food services industry kept her moving; however—internally—she was searching for something deeper. “I thought the Corps would be my family,” she said. “But I realized I was just a body. I didn’t feel seen.”
Unfortunately, Raymond’s experience echoes findings from Meland, Fosse, and Lunde (2021), who describe the dissonance veterans face when transitioning from structured military environments to civilian life. The emotional regulation and identity renegotiation required during this shift often go unacknowledged by institutions.
So, she separated from the Marines in 2015 and entered a reflective chapter while supporting her wife’s military career, raising their child, and quietly wrestling with questions of identity. “I didn’t feel like I was sacrificing anything,” she said. “I just didn’t know who I was anymore.”
Still, she persisted in finding her purpose and gradually, writing became her compass. “It’s the thing I do best with the least effort,” she said. “Emails, poetry, manuals—I can make boring things interesting. That’s when I started to feel like myself again.”
Now, as a student at the ƹƵ Beaufort, Raymond is pursuing a degree in interdisciplinary studies with a focus on writing. Her return to academia has been both affirming and challenging. “Some professors are so relaxed, it’s like, why am I here?” she said. “I want substance. I want to learn.”
Conversely, Raymond’s observations with academic excellence reflects a broader institutional gap. As Kuh and Whitt (1988) note, campus culture often functions as an “invisible tapestry,” one that can exclude nontraditional learners through unspoken norms and assumptions. For military-affiliated students, this can manifest as a lack of structure, unclear expectations, and missed opportunities for meaningful engagement. Still, her reflections are not complaints—they’re thoughtful critiques from someone who values depth and intentionality. “We’re spending thousands of dollars,” she said. “We deserve more than surface-level content.”
Furthermore, Raymond’s expresses a sense of being “behind” or “out of sync” with younger students ties in with social identity theory, which suggests that perceived group membership and status shape institutional engagement (Brown, 2020). Her experiences also resonates with Guerrero et al. (2021), whose research shows that veterans reconstruct identity through communal narratives—often outside formal academic channels. Moreover, Raymond’s words echo the call for inclusive faculty development championed by Kezar and Maxey (2014), who argue that educators must become learners themselves to foster environments where students like Raymond can thrive. Yet, despite occasional frustrations, Raymond remains committed. “I want A’s in every class. I’m still doing the work. I just wish it felt more sustainable.”
Looking ahead, her advice to others navigating similar paths is both direct and encouraging: “Don’t expect the school to lay your goals out for you. Dig into the curriculum. Understand the professors. Know what you want—and go after that.”
Ultimately, Raymond’s story isn’t loud. It’s steady. It’s the story of a woman who left Chicago to find courage, and who now uses her words to build something lasting.
“This is the community I chose,” she said. “I'm committed to learning, building connections, and contributing to it.”
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Writer and photographer Jonathan Spencer, a Communication Studies major and U.S. Marine Corps veteran, produced this profile as part of his senior year Capstone project.
JS 1/15/26