Five years ago, like all Americans, we watched reports of the invasion of Iraq. As the smoke screen of victory vanished along with the orderly notion of a “frontline,” a recurring footnote emerged in the press: It wasn't just young men who were fighting, it was young women too—mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives. It seemed clear to us that some kind of turning point had been reached.

As citizens, we were interested in who these women were who were serving in our name. As women, we were curious about how the experience of combat—historically a male activity—filtered through a female perspective. As filmmakers, we were troubled by the way images of female soldiers had stagnated in the public imagination, polarized between Jessica Lynch at one extreme and Lynndie England at the other.

After learning about the Lionesses of the 1st Engineer Battalion, we began to piece together their story. We visited the Army bases where they lived upon their return from Iraq and got to know them. We realized that the women’s experiences were emblematic of larger shifts taking place in the military. These shifts, which began on the ground in Ramadi, signaled a recognition that winning the “hearts and minds” of civilians in insurgencies is as important as the use of force. The Lionesses were critical to this approach, functioning as the “tip of the spear.”

At times their new roles led them into direct ground combat, something for which they were not trained and were told they could never do when they joined the military. As the war continues, and with it the Lioness program, the question is not whether women should be in combat. The issue is when will American society acknowledge the gap between an outdated policy intended to keep women from serving on the frontlines and the reality of what they are being asked to do on the ground in Iraq.