(Credits: Netflix)

Netflix recently dropped one of the best original limited series of the year, Boots, on October 9th, inspired by Greg Cope White’s memoir, The Pink Marine. The eight-episode miniseries, starring Miles Heizer and Liam Oh, chronicles White’s experience while serving the Reagan-era Marines in a 13-week boot camp that changed his life forever, albeit with a few adaptational liberties taken by showrunner Andy Parker.

The first chapter of White’s memoir tells the incredible story of his recruitment to join the Marines when he was 18 years old and 13 pounds light. But in a New Orleans hardware store, the recruiter hammered a lead pipe flat, taking him to the bathroom and taping the pipe to his crotch, passing the test, which made him introspect for a while, “What have I done?”.

But White’s induction into the Marine world was life-altering. Although it was a place that asked for unrelenting conformity, it became the building blocks of a character. “I didn’t know it at the time, but they gave me the confidence to become myself,” he says to TIME.

White didn’t exactly dream of serving in the military. Then, what exactly made him take the step?

Inside the Making of a Marine

White was always on the move during his childhood, having changed 13 schools in 11 years due to the unstable circumstances at his home. Although there was a lack of structure and plan, he was aware of his sexuality from the beginning, along with society’s conviction that there was no place where he could fit in. When the enlistment for Marines came, it was quite unforeseen.

He was 18 that summer when his best friend, Dale, called to inform him that he was going to join the Marine Corps boot camp, although he had already left for the Air Force Academy. But White only heard the “summer camp” part, thinking he would love to be a part. So, he decided to tag along. But as soon as he reached, the reality of the scenario dawned on him.

The thing is that he never really saw a war movie. In fact, he never ran a mile. But the prospect of rediscovering himself was too attractive to pass up the chance. “I went in wondering where my place was in the masculine world,” White recalls. Upon arriving at Parris Island late at night, when the entire base was asleep, they were greeted by strict drill instructors at the gate. And that alone was a moment of realisation that the camp was nothing like he thought it would be; after all, he had never really been yelled at before this.

The rules were set from the beginning: don’t move, don’t speak, don’t think ahead. His days began at 5am and continued with rifle training, routine marches, and relentless drills. But the pull-up test nearly shattered him. However, accepting defeat would mean ending up separated from Dale, or it could turn for the worse, which could possibly mean reassignment or complete discharge in case anyone found out he was gay.

There came many such moments when White thought he wouldn’t be able to lift the boot off the ground. But contrary to his belief, he did it. “I did it because I had these really rough drill instructors yelling at me, and I had a sense of pride,” he says. However, that’s not all. He made it through 13 weeks, gaining a distinct sense of confidence, discipline, and stamina. He even earned a rare promotion, which only a few in his platoon could.

White served in secrecy for six whole years. When his fellow Marines opened up about stories of their girlfriends and lovers, he did something called “conjugal math.” He initially swapped pronouns and changed the names to fit in. But even that had a saturation point. Finally, he decided not to reenlist, filling him with a rare sense of peace. Although many would call it a hasty and thoughtless decision for him to join the Marines, it was actually the pivotal turn in his life that he didn’t know he needed. “Ironically, the Marines gave me the confidence to come out. I can walk into any room now, friendly or unfriendly. I’ll talk to anyone. That came from them,” he adds.

From the pages to the Netflix screen

White’s memoir had hit a chord with Boots creator Parker in a rather personal way. He somewhat saw his own story within The Pink Marine. Early on, the writer and producer had considered enlisting in the Marines as a closeted teen residing in Glendale, Arizona. “So, when I got Greg’s book, it felt like watching the road not taken,” he explains.

But Boots on Netflix is not an exact adaptation or retelling of White’s memoir. Instead, Parker created a fictionalised version of the journey, focusing on a new character. “One of the first conversations I had with Greg was letting him know I wasn’t going to tell the story of his life. I needed the freedom to craft a new character who would go on his own journey,” he says.

The creative liberty helped him assemble a diverse cast of recruits who have lived very different realities. But the one element that was central to White’s memoir was the platonic friendship between a gay recruit and his straight best friend, which moved Parker. The relationship was brought to life in Boots by Cameron and Ray, which serves as the emotional core of the series.

With co-showrunner Jennifer Cecil, Parker shifted the framework to 1990, just three years before the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy came into being. This allowed LGBTQ+ people to serve with the condition that their sexual identity remained shrouded in secrecy. The creators also enlisted the help of Marine veterans for suggestions and advice during the writing process, including various consultations, which further helped them paint a picture of the machine of transformation that has and continues to anchor many identities.