By: Hunter Owen
Mule Deer Foundation Guest Contributor
Too many of my fellow veterans are playing the victim card. Yeah, I said it.
Now before you slam this shut or start firing off a defensive email, hear me out. I’m one of you. I served in Iraq and Afghanistan. My knees ache in the winter, my back clicks when I roll out of bed, and I know the sound of a medevac bird better than I know some of my extended family. I’ve buried friends. I’ve come home carrying things I can’t always talk about. But I am not a victim. And neither are you.
We volunteered. We raised our hands. No one tricked us into it. In fact, if you asked most veterans I know, they’d do it all over again—pain, trauma, and all. Because serving wasn’t just a job. It was a calling. A purpose. And for many of us, it still is.
So why is it that in some corners of the veteran community, we’ve allowed ourselves to become caricatures of our own service? We gripe about cold Veterans Day meals at Applebee’s. We bristle when there’s no 10% discount at the hardware store. We hunt for the next free trip—whether it’s a hunting tag, a fishing expedition, or a sponsored retreat. We toss around phrases like “civilians just don’t get it” as if we’re the last tribe on Earth who’s suffered.
But let me be blunt: that victim mentality is not who we are.
It’s a dangerous narrative that feeds into the stereotype that we’re all broken, fragile, and one bad day away from imploding. And that stereotype? It hurts us. It damages our job prospects. It shapes how employers see us. Worst of all, it distorts how we see ourselves.
Let me be clear—I know not all wounds are visible. PTSD is real. Traumatic Brain Injury is real. Hell, I have both. The scars we carry—physical and emotional—aren’t up for debate. But acknowledging the weight we carry isn’t the same as using it as a crutch.
Because what I see more than anything else in the veteran community is grit. I see leaders. I see men and women who’ve been tested in ways most people never will—who’ve made life-or-death decisions before most Americans have had their morning coffee. I see problem-solvers, risk-takers, loyal teammates, and disciplined professionals who can thrive in chaos and lead with clarity.
You know what else I see? Opportunity.
I got my bachelor’s degree for free through the GI Bill. I’ve had access to VA health care, job training, mental health support, and even hearing aids—with free replacements and batteries for life. I’ve been handed more tools to succeed than most Americans ever will.
Is the system perfect? No. Does it need work? Always. But when I compare what we’ve been given to what Vietnam veterans came home to—I feel damn lucky.
Those guys were spit on. Told to hide their uniforms. Abandoned by the very nation that sent them to war. We, by contrast, came home to cheers in the airport, handshakes in gas stations, and yellow ribbons on telephone poles. We’ve had 20 years of public support, veteran nonprofits, and a nation that, even if it doesn’t always understand our service, overwhelmingly respects it.
And yet, some of us still act like we’ve been left behind.
We haven’t.
We’ve been empowered. We’ve been educated. We’ve been supported. We’re not broken toys or victims of circumstance. We’re people who had one hell of a journey—and who came back with the tools, the training, and the temperament to build extraordinary lives.
At the Mule Deer Foundation, many of us are veterans who have found purpose again—through conservation, community, and continued service. Whether it’s restoring habitat, mentoring youth, or simply putting boots on the ground for wildlife, this mission resonates deeply with those of us who know what it means to serve something bigger than ourselves.
Look, we all have bad days. I still wrestle with my demons. But what gets me through isn’t a discount code or a pity party. It’s purpose. It’s family. It’s continuing to serve—whether that’s in our communities, our careers, or just being there for another vet when they need to talk.
We don’t honor our brothers and sisters who didn’t make it home by complaining. We honor them by living well. By owning our stories. By leading. By proving, every day, that military service doesn’t define us—it refines us.
So to my fellow veterans: it’s time we stop playing the victim and start showing the world who we really are.
Because we are not a burden. We are a blessing.
We are not broken. We are battle-tested.
And we are not victims.
We are veterans.
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Good luck this fall and remember to send any success pictures or stories from the field to web@muledeer.org and you could be featured on our website or in our magazine. If this article or any of our articles have helped you become a better hunter or conservation steward, consider becoming a member of the Mule Deer Foundation for only $35 dollars a year. Click here to join: https://muledeer.org/product-category/membership/
Hunter Owen
Hunter was a military brat born in North Carolina, who moved to and grew up in Tampa, Florida. He joined the Army in 2006, and spent the bulk of his career at Fort Bragg, NC. After being medically discharged and spending a short time living and working in Washington D.C., Hunter packed up his family, and moved back to the center of the universe, Fort Bragg, NC. He currently works as a civilian for the Army. Hunter did not grow up in a hunting family and faced many of the same barriers-to-entry of hunting found by many looking to get started. After reaching out to BHA AFI, Hunter quickly became an avid outdoorsman. In his free time Hunter enjoys hunting, fishing, and working to better the public lands we all love.
