Free birth control will be available to all Tricare^[1] users after more than a decade of efforts to eliminate copays for contraception for military families were finally successful in this year's annual defense policy bill.

Since the Affordable Care Act, also known as Obamacare, ended copays for birth control for private insurance plans, lawmakers, mostly Democrats, have pushed for military families to have the same benefit in their health insurance.

In the past, those efforts were unsuccessful because of concerns about costs, as well as Republican misconceptions about emergency birth control. But those objections faded away this year, and lawmakers have agreed to end Tricare copays for contraception in the National Defense Authorization Act, or NDAA, expected to become law by the end of the month.

Read Next: Transgender Troops, Confronting Shifting Policies of Acceptance, Just Want to Serve^[2]

"After more than a decade of advocacy, I'm so proud that my bipartisan amendment to ensure women in the military don't have to pay a co-pay for FDA-approved contraception is in this year's NDAA legislation," Sen. Jeanne Shaheen, D-N.H., said in a statement to Military.com. "Service members who are sacrificing so much to protect our freedoms deserve the same access to contraception as their civilian counterparts. I look forward to seeing this long-overdue win for our military become law."

More than 4 million female troops, dependents and retirees receive care through the military health system, including about 1.6 million women of reproductive age.

Despite some efforts to improve access to birth control in recent years, women in the military have continued to report difficulties. A Rand Corp. study released in 2022^[3] found that about 18% of active-duty women said there had been at least one occasion in which they could not get their preferred method of birth control from the military health system.

Like with other prescriptions, birth control is available at military pharmacies for free. But military dependents and retirees getting their prescriptions filled at a retail or mail-order pharmacy have to pay a copayment under current policy. Copays range from $13 for a generic drug from a mail-order pharmacy to $43 for name-brand pills from a retail pharmacy.

Since July 2022, Tricare has waived copayments for some forms of contraception such as IUDs, or intrauterine devices, but it cannot legally waive copays for prescription pills without congressional approval.

Several times over the years, House lawmakers approved amendments to their initial version of the NDAA to waive Tricare copayments for birth control. But those amendments were always taken out of the final version of the bill that became law after negotiations with the Senate.

This year, for the first time, senators also included an amendment in their version of the NDAA to end copays for birth control.

One of the stated reasons that the birth control provisions were always taken out of the NDAA was that waiving copays would increase what's known as mandatory spending, and congressional rules generally require increases in mandatory spending to be balanced out elsewhere in the federal budget.

Supporters of ending copayments for birth control, though, argued the concerns about mandatory spending were an excuse to avoid a more substantive debate. Another hurdle to passage in the past was GOP opposition to emergency contraception over the mistaken belief that it is a type of abortion.

Earlier versions of this year's NDAA had some limitations on the birth control provision in order to avoid running afoul of the mandatory spending rules. For example, the Senate bill originally wouldn't have eliminated copays until 2034, and the House version would have waived copays for only a year.

Putting those limitations in "forced a conversation broadly on, 'OK, is it really worth this very small mandatory score being a hurdle for something that will affect so many women,'" an aide to Shaheen told Military.com on condition of anonymity to discuss private negotiations over the bill. "In the post-Dobbs world, you've seen a lot more members that you wouldn't normally take a stance on contraception because it's so much more urgent, particularly for servicewomen."

Dobbs is the 2022 Supreme Court ruling that allowed states to ban abortion.

Ultimately, negotiators dropped the limitations. The version of the bill set to become law will end all cost-sharing for birth control immediately in perpetuity.

The House approved the bill Wednesday, while the Senate is expected to vote on it next week. President Joe Biden will then need to sign the bill into law.

Related: Democrats Push Pentagon on Birth Control for Service Members as Defense Bill Looks to Ease Access^[4]

The most serious allegations^[1] against Pete Hegseth, Donald Trump's pick to head the U.S. Department of Defense, involve mismanagement, heavy drinking, infidelity, sexual harassment and even rape.

Hegseth denies the allegations but also claims^[2] that because of Jesus, he's a "changed man." The roots of Hegseth's version of Christianity are worth a look as he heads into confirmation hearings before the U.S. Senate in January 2025.

In 2023, Hegseth moved^[3] from New Jersey to Tennessee to join a church and school community^[4] that arises from a 20th-century movement, called Christian Reconstruction. It holds deeply conservative views^[5] about the family, roles for women, and how religion and politics are related.

The followers of the movement seek to make America a Christian nation^[6], by which they mean a nation built on biblical law, including its prohibitions and punishments.

Christian Reconstructionists^[7] want to dismantle public education and replace modern ideas about family with a patriarchal family model, because they claim that biblical law requires both. They believe that Old Testament biblical law applies to today's society and to everyone, whether or not they are Christian. For them, all of life is religious; there is no separation between religion and politics.

Though only a handful of people are formally tied to Christian Reconstructionism, its influence has been broader.

As a scholar of religion^[8], I have studied Christian conservative movements, especially Christian Reconstructionism, for over 30 years, with six of those years explicitly devoted to the research on Christian Reconstruction. In my book "Building God's Kingdom: Inside the World of Christian Reconstruction^[9]," I trace the rise of this obscure theocratic version of Christianity.

When the Trump transition team announced in mid-November 2024 that Hegseth was the choice to serve as Secretary of Defense, his pastor posted on X^[10] that Hegseth and his family are members of Pilgrim Hill Reformed Fellowship, a church directly tied to this movement^[11]. I know through my research that the workings of the church he has joined make it quite impossible to dissociate and still remain a member in good standing.

History and Influence

The movement's origins go back to the late 1950s and the work of thinker, writer and theologian R.J. Rushdoony^[12]. His goal was to "reconstruct" all of society to fit how he understood the Bible. And as I explain in my book, one of his most important strategies for doing that was to eliminate public education and replace it with Christian education.

By establishing the Christian school and Christian home school movements, Christian Reconstructionists brought their version of a biblical worldview^[13] to generations of Christians who attended those schools, many of whom had no ties to Christian Reconstructionism itself. The schools taught, and still teach, a curriculum entirely infused with a Christian Reconstruction worldview based on a specific reading of the Bible. History classes become Christian history classes, science classes become the study of creationism, and the study of economics becomes Christian economics.

In the 1970s, a Moscow, Idaho, Christian school founder named Doug Wilson^[14], deeply shaped by Christian Reconstruction, expanded his school efforts to include a church, a college, a publishing house and a seminary^[15].

Historian Crawford Gribben^[16] also connects Wilson to the earlier Christian Reconstructionist movement^[17]. Wilson has said he's not a Christian Reconstructionist. Nonetheless, he shares their goals and strategies for remaking society according to the Bible.

Wilson also founded the Communion of Reformed Evangelicals, or CREC, and the Association of Classical Christian Schools, or ACCS. CREC is a group of affiliated churches, somewhat like a small denomination, while ACCS, according to its website^[18], exists to "promote, establish, and equip member schools that are committed to a "classical approach" that emphasizes a "Christian worldview" built on Western philosophy and literature.

Wilson and his institutions send out men to start churches and schools modeled after Moscow. These churches and schools work to shape the larger society, according to their reading of the Bible, starting with the U.S., but the goal is to spread this across the world^[19].

The members of Wilson's community are known as "Kirkers" -- based on the Scottish word for church -- and include people who move to Moscow to join. Once there, they buy property and set up businesses. Some of the residents of the town, who are not members of the church, call it "an invasion^[20]."

Wilson is an intentionally provocative and controversial figure who got attention early on for his 1996 book "Southern Slavery: As it Was^[21]," which revives pre-Civil War arguments in favor of slavery. He has also been implicated in accusations of abuse^[22], including abuses of power and sexual abuse. A new 2024 podcast, "Sons of Patriarchy^[23]," explains the culture of Wilson's world through interviews with scholars, other experts and survivors of abuse.

Church Government Structures Ensure Conformity

Hegseth hasn't talked about Christian Reconstructionism directly, but when he talks about education, he repeats their talking points. During an interview^[24] on a right-wing podcast, he used militaristic language and agreed with the host that "classical Christian schools" could be "boot camps" to provide "recruits" for an underground army that could eventually launch an "educational insurgency." He laughingly added later the implications of violence in the larger quote are "metaphorical." Even taken metaphorically, I believe that the comments show him supporting the goal of using Christian schools to make America a Christian nation.

In Tennessee^[25], Hegseth sent his children to a specific Christian school; he then joined a nearby church, both of which are tied to Wilson's CREC and ACCS.

The structures and informal workings that make up the CREC and ACCS are designed to ensure theological agreement and submission to church leadership, and protect churches from lawsuits^[26] when there are accusations of abuse. These aren't just churches you can join by showing up.

From my research, I know the CREC churches embrace a style of church government where a candidate for membership must go before the elders -- called a session -- to show that their conversion was authentic and submit to thorough questioning of their theology. They then usually sign a covenant or make a public verbal covenant, submitting to church elders. These practices are common in old presbyterian and reformed style^[27] churches. They are less common today in mainline churches, but still exist in smaller Presbyterian denominations.

If people's beliefs change after becoming members, they can be brought before church courts on heresy^[28] charges.

Members must bring any dispute they might have with members of "recognized churches" to these church courts, as opposed to taking them to "worldly" courts. This largely closes off other avenues for addressing grievances.

The governing bodies that comprise the sessions and the courts are all made up of elders. And only men can be elders, a fact that has become an issue in accusations of abuse.

No Distinction Between Religious and Political Issues

The U.S. has a long tradition of protecting religion from public criticisms: The U.S. Constitution forbids a "religious test^[29]" for officeholders, civic groups often prohibit discussions about religion, and it is generally considered impolite^[30] to do so in social contexts.

Senators at Hegseth's confirmation hearings will likely be reluctant to engage in questions about religion, yet in the religious community with which Hegseth has associated himself, there is no distinction between religious issues and political ones; there is no separation of church and state. Every area of life is to be governed by the Bible, and there is no secular sphere of authority that exists apart from religion.

Julie Ingersoll is a professor of religious studies at the University of North Florida.

This article is republished from The Conversation^[31] under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article^[32].

Bree Fram was an Air Force^[1] major in 2016 when word came down that the Obama administration would soon be lifting its ban on transgender troops serving in the military following a yearlong study and orders for commanders to educate themselves and their units on integrating transgender personnel.

It was during President Barack Obama's first term in 2011 that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," the then-nearly 18-year-old ban on gay and lesbian troops serving openly, had ended. Despite some resistance in Congress, the intervening five years had gone smoothly, with few noteworthy hurdles for units adjusting to the more tolerant stance. Now, the administration wanted to open up service further.

Moments after the new policy supporting trans service members was approved, Fram sent an email to her colleagues and posted to Facebook disclosing that she identified as a woman. After clicking send, she got up from her desk, bolted to the gym and hopped on an elliptical in the lower levels of the Pentagon to work off the adrenaline, unsure of exactly what the response would be.

"I went nowhere faster than I'd ever gone in my life with all that nervous energy that I had," she quipped.

Whenever policies tied to who can serve and how have changed in the military, be it the ending of segregation in the ranks or inclusion of women in new specialties, there were warnings from those opposed that troops wouldn't accept their fellow service members and that unit cohesion would suffer.

But when she got back to her desk after the workout, Fram started to get a steady stream of colleagues stopping by. They shook her hand and told her, "It's an honor to serve with you."

The new norm of open service would last only a year.

In 2017, President Donald Trump began via tweet to unravel that policy and set off a yearslong process that culminated in the Pentagon not accepting new transgender service members and not providing existing troops with care for gender dysphoria, the medical term for identifying with a gender different than that assigned at birth, if they had not already been out and previously diagnosed.

"So no one new could come out within the military, and no one who was trans could get into the military," Fram explained. "We were functionally an endangered species within the service, but were allowed to continue serving and continue receiving care."

Fram, like the eight other transgender service members interviewed by Military.com for this story, noted that she was expressing her personal views and not speaking on behalf of the Defense Department or her service branch.

Fram said that, when the policy on trangender service members was reversed again five days into President Joe Biden's administration in 2021, it provided more acceptance but further illustrated the roller-coaster of policy changes that transgender service members had to navigate. She's now a colonel in the Space Force^[2] and one of the most senior openly transgender officers serving in the military.

Trump promised on the campaign trail to end acceptance of transgender service members, and several news outlets reported on a proposed executive order^[3] that would medically discharge all trans service members from the military. Whether or not that order, or another like it, comes to fruition, Fram said the advice she gives to fellow transgender service members remains the same as during the first Trump-era ban.

"Lace up your boots and go get the job done, until or unless you get dragged out of the service and serving the country that you love so much and care about," Fram said.

The Department of Defense does not track the number of transgender service members, leaving a significant gap in reliable data. A 2016 study conducted by Rand Corp. estimated that between 1,300 and 6,600 transgender troops were serving at that time. Some studies and advocacy groups place that estimate much higher at about 15,000.

Transgender troops' right to serve -- perhaps even to fight and die for a nation they volunteered to defend -- has been subject to a whiplash-inducing series of policy reversals and partisan squabbles and created uncertainty as to what they will confront in the coming years.

But the nine transgender service members who spoke to Military.com delivered one uniform message: Their units have accepted them, and they just want to serve their country.

'I Love My Job'

Sgt. 1st Class Cathrine Schmid is not just a soldier; military service is woven into the fabric of her being. Mention the Army^[4], and her eyes light up. A noncommissioned officer to her core, Schmid's dedication isn't performative patriotism wrapped in slogans and sentiment. It's visceral.

"I love my job," she says. "I really like being in the Army. I love soldiers. I love being around soldiers; I love talking to soldiers."

Schmid transitioned a decade ago, a decision that sparked some initial upheaval in the ranks she served in, but she was ultimately accepted by her commanders, even if they lacked the vocabulary or experience to fully understand her journey. Her identity is remarkably a nonfactor in her day-to-day Army life. Over several years, her medical leave amounted to no more than eight weeks, comparable to the recovery from a routine airborne school injury. For Schmid, her transition wasn't a disruption; it was simply part of her story.

She's a high performer and part of the Sergeant Audie Murphy Club, among the most prestigious stamps of approval for some of the Army's top-performing NCOs, with troops having to demonstrate expert marksmanship, earn top scores on the service's fitness test, and go through a meticulous interview process.

"I've got the institutional power of the senior NCO, I've got the shiny bits of metal on my uniform that say I've earned my place, and that isn't true for everybody," Schmid said. "I've been in long enough, and the military is close enough to a meritocracy, that people care less about whether I'm trans and whether I'm qualified, which is one of the best things about the military."

Data points to a seismic shift in Gen Z attitudes toward the LGBTQ+ community, with nearly 28% of young adults identifying as gay, lesbian, transgender or queer, Public Religion Research Institute, a nonprofit that researches public perception on cultural issues, found in a study^[5] published earlier this year.

But despite the changing demographics, the incoming administration has specifically articulated a desire to prevent some of those same young adults from serving, despite the military services facing ongoing struggles effectively adding new recruits.

Pete Hegseth, a former Fox News personality and a 13-year National Guard^[6] veteran who has been tabbed by Trump to serve as his secretary of defense, slammed in his 2024 book, "The War on Warriors: Behind the Betrayal of the Men Who Keep Us Free," what he perceived as a push to fill the ranks with LGBTQ+ troops, falsely suggesting recruiting^[7] ads were targeting those demographics. A Military.com review of recruiting ads in the last half decade found that most military marketing spotlights men and makes no suggestions of their sexual orientation, and that there has been no systemic push to pitch service to LGBTQ+ Americans.

"Not only do the trannies and lesbians not join, but those very same ads turn off the young, patriotic, Christian men who have traditionally filled out ranks," Hegseth, whose confirmation is facing headwinds^[8] tied to scrutiny of past infidelity, excessive drinking and alleged sexual assault, said in his book.

Throughout the Biden administration, Republican lawmakers and conservative media personalities have lambasted the military as being "woke," a nonspecific shorthand for acquiescence to progressive ideals, and for filling the ranks with those from the LGBTQ+ community, though there's little demographic evidence of a seismic change to the composition of the force. Those in service leadership don't see recent efforts at acceptance as interfering with the military's mission.

"Funny enough, there's a lot more room on the Left to hit us on making no effort to recruit these people," one Army marketing official told Military.com on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to talk to the press, referring to LGBTQ+ groups. "Most of our stuff is dudes jumping out of airplanes and such, same ads we've been putting out for half a century, not targeting any specific demographics ... which has been part of our problem."

Acceptance in the Force

Transgender soldiers are now serving across a range of roles within the U.S. Army, including in front-line units and Special Forces^[9]. For many of the nine transgender service members who spoke with Military.com -- their ranks spanning from junior soldiers to senior officers -- their experiences have generally been positive. While some acknowledge the possibility of occasional mockery behind their backs, they said the overall treatment from their peers and commanders has been respectful, and they feel accepted within their formations.

Yet, despite this camaraderie, some transgender service members believe that their careers may face obstacles. A number of them suspect that they have been sidelined from key training opportunities, prestigious assignments or advanced schools, with some of these setbacks seemingly stemming from commanders -- often older officers -- who may not have ever met a trans person before.

"There was an NCO who openly said some bigoted things. He called me a tranny to my face," one soldier told Military.com. "When I first started to use female facilities, I was terrified of getting rejected by other women. But they were all remarkably kind; they could probably see how visibly fearful I was. I always went to the showers with at least one female friend for protection. There was always a fear of rejection from other women."

Navy^[10] Cmdr. Emily Shilling, call sign "Hawking" for her love of physics, has spent nearly 20 years as a standout in the U.S. military. A decorated pilot with 60 combat missions from deployments^[11] on the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln, Shilling has flown the EA-6B Prowler^[12], EA-18 Growler^[13], and F/A-18E/F Super Hornet^[14] -- some of the Navy's most advanced jets.

But as the Trump administration prepares to take office, Shilling, who is transgender, is bracing for what could be a career-ending policy shift. As president of SPARTA, an advocacy group for transgender service members, she is deeply aware of what's at stake. With 19 years and five months in uniform, Shilling is just shy of the 20-year milestone needed for military retirement^[15] benefits. If a new administration policy leads to her discharge, she could lose not only her pension but also access to the Defense Department's health care program. Also, depending on what type of discharge she receives, her children may lose access to her post-9/11 GI Bill^[16] benefits.

She wants to serve for 26 years and aims to make captain.

She's also fighting for the future of others in her position, arguing that exclusion weakens the military. "History has shown that opening the military to qualified individuals makes us stronger," she said.

"We saw it with women. We saw it with people of color. This has held true for every group that was once excluded," she said, adding that she was sharing her views as a transgender service member and president of SPARTA, not as a representative of the Navy.

SPARTA is gearing up for what could be another fight over who is allowed to serve in uniform. Shilling said the organization is focused on preparing its 2,200 members for the worst. The group is prioritizing job placement and fundraising for medical expenses to support troops who might lose access to the military health system. "We'll let the legal experts take the lead," she said. "Our job is to make sure our people are taken care of."

She says she is tired of what she calls the "distraction" of the discussion.

"We've been serving openly for [nearly] 10 years now, and we just want to get back to fighting our nation's battles and defending the U.S.," she said.

Related: Trump Reportedly Weighs Immediate Discharge of All Transgender Troops. Here's What That Would Mean.^[17]