Checking In from Babyhorseland

Checking In from Babyhorseland

I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: babyhorseland is a wild place. It’s like being on a roller coaster where you definitely might die, if not from bodily injury then definitely from a heart attack. Or an aneurysm….

Roller coaster going up… first pony ride


It’s like being on a roller coaster that in one moment is the best, most thrilling thing imaginable but in another moment you’re like wtf am I doing on this thing? And why did I walk through a valley of hot coals to get in line for this? And, why am I truly doing this voluntarily?!


The highs have been very, very high. Since our last Lucy Lu update I have backed and started this special little filly under saddle and let me tell you: she is F-U-N. And she is smart. From our last update in July where she conquered her fear of baths, she has come a long, long way. I went from being carried around like a sack of potatoes to bravely swinging a leg over and going for a pony ride in the indoor to cantering around on the lunge line and even going walk-trot off the lunge by Halloween. 

First canter under saddle. Striving for progress, not perfection.


I was on Cloud 9! This roller coaster was the best adventure that I’d ever been been brave enough to ride! Then suddenly a bolt flies off and you think, ‘well, I might die now.’  She definitely knocked a screw loose somewhere along the way and some of things I have seen are hard to unsee… there were days on the lunge line when I would watch her antics and think, ‘am I really going to get on that thing again?’ And these days eventually culminated into a harrowing and expensive journey trying to find a physical cause for going off the rails. Surely we can tighten that bolt and get back on track. 


After many, many weeks and many vet visits and many sleepless nights we had treated her for everything she might have and ruled out everything else. (Here is where the aneurysm comes in… I had definitely convinced myself she was suffering some pretty terrible and incurable ailments). The emotional roller coaster was at its lowest low and I was not sure if I wanted to go around again. But gosh were those fun times fun and I hadn’t actually died yet and the vet’s orders were to ride the damn horse so… why not.


In the dregs of winter, mid-pandemic, and approaching the holidays, a good groundsperson was hard to find. So I found myself doing what every desperate horse girl does when she is in dire need of a groundsperson: make your husband do it. This sparked an entirely new and exciting route for the baby horse roller coaster: gently riding around the indoor while Beau finds his second career as a husband horse. 

New adventures for both of the pony kids


And as only the allure of babyhorseland can do, I was sucked right back in again. Each week, I got a bit bolder and a bit braver and she got a bit steadier and a bit braver herself. And Beau.. well it goes without saying that he was THRILLED to have conned a new person into his I-will-not-be-caught-for-less-than-three-treats routine and his new job description included sporting a western saddle and not even needing to walk into corners. 


All this to say, babyhorseland is a wild, wild place where you never know where you might end up once you cross its threshold. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows and it’s not for the faint of heart, but if you need me, that’s where I live now…
#greetingsfrombabyhorseland 

OYES Feature: Anna Streit

OYES Feature: Anna Streit

I had my first riding lesson at the age of 5 as a birthday present. I don’t remember much of it, but I’m told that I was so scared that I cried, and it took half the lesson just to get me on the horse. At the end I cried when they made me get off the horse. That was all it took to get me hooked, that one 30-minute ride. My parents had no idea what they had signed themselves up for, though they were always supportive. When I started showing and we couldn’t afford show clothes, my mom would find boys suit jackets and dress shirts at the thrift store and tailor them to fit me. I took weekly lessons, did summer camps, and showed nearly every weekend during show season up until I was about 13. The only way that my family could afford this is through an education grant that we received because of my parents’ political activism.

While I have struggled with anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember, the year I turned 13 was the worst it had been in my short life. I nearly quit riding because I had so much anxiety about jumping and showing. My mom convinced me not to, and I ended up just switching barns to a therapeutic riding facility that allowed me to work off lessons. I was homeschooled so I spent five to six full days a week there for about two years. That was when they closed, and I had to find yet another place to ride. Luckily for me, I had volunteered to help with horses at a summer camp in the area and the equine director had grown up riding at a local barn. She referred me to them, and I have been riding and working there ever since.

My riding goals feel so far away right now. I haven’t even sat on a horse since May, as I was stuck in Montana over the summer due to COVID and have no vehicle here and no money to pay for lessons anyway. The last time I had a real lesson was January when I was back home for winter break. At some point in the future I would love to get into dressage, as jumping really isn’t my thing. I am also interested in training miniature horses for therapy or service work. I actually have a mini in my backyard at school who I am training for service as my senior project. There are extremely limited resources on methods for this though, so I’m basically making it up as I go along.

My long-term plan is to hopefully get a PhD in archaeology and spend some time working in the field. Eventually I am interested in teaching, which is why I want the PhD instead of a Masters. I am in my senior year of undergrad getting a degree in anthrozoology with an anthropology minor. I had intended to apply to grad schools this fall but my top choice is not accepting grad students this year, so I am taking a gap year and applying to all of the schools next year instead. In May I will be headed back to Virginia for the gap year, and hopefully continuing to work off lessons at the barn I normally ride at when I’m home. I have no idea where I’ll get in (or if I’ll get in) so after the gap year I’m not sure where I’ll be. I do know I will want to ride wherever I go.

I’ve already talked a bit about some of my challenges, but I’d like to mention one more thing. This has not been a challenge for me at my current barn, but I am worried that it could be in the future as I try out new places. I identify as bisexual. My barn at home is very accepting of me and I even brought a girlfriend there to see the horses a few years ago. I know that not every barn is as wonderful a place as mine, and that I will probably have to deal with homophobia and bigotry at some point in my riding career.  I have been lucky enough to have had an accepting community in my teenage years, but I know that many do not. Stepping outside of that community is pretty scary, and I hope that being able to have a mentor as a resource will help to ease that transition.

OYES Feature: Erin Oquindo

OYES Feature: Erin Oquindo

When I was a little kid, my mom and I would drive the 3-hours to Dickson, TN to pick up my half-brothers from their father’s farm, where they worked and lived on the weekends. Even though my mom was a barrel racer for years, she couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering to the various jumping rings we would pass on that long road to Dickson. So that’s how I initially became obsessed with it and started consuming all sorts of equestrian media from the books in my school’s library to taking hand-me-down Breyer horses from a family friend. After I started taking lessons at 7 years old, I was hooked. I was fortunate enough to get a pony when I was about 10, which my parents and I paid for by all three working in various capacities for my riding instructor—I worked as a camp counselor and groom while my parents managed all the media and photography work in exchange for my pony’s board. Later on, I ended up taking a 5-year hiatus from riding, for most of my high school career and the first half of my undergraduate career—the space got too competitive, too expensive, and too white for me to comfortably continue. My junior year of college, I joined my university’s club IHSA team but dropped out a year later for financial reasons. Now, I am trying to rebuild my life in the equestrian world with a monthly half lease on a horse named Mozart (also known as Mo, Bobo, Bubba, Boombah, etc.) and a great, understanding trainer who is helping me work through a lot of my emotional and physical pain points when it comes to riding. I ride a bit less than once a week now and it is my current goal to get to a financial, physical, and social place to go to the barn more and for longer, so I can really immerse myself and learn.

I’ll be honest—I am not looking to be the next Grand Prix rider or Boyd Martin or whoever (the vast majority of these folks are white cis people anyway and I could never see myself among them). I am not interested in showing extensively at the upper levels in that way. As my long-term equestrian dream, I simply want to one day get to a place in my life where I own and regularly ride a horse, grow in my skill and strength, and can dedicate myself to horseback riding as my primary activity outside my career. I would entertain it being a part of my career, but I just feel like I haven’t had the proper exposure to the horse world to really tell me whether or not that’s the path for me. In the short term, I currently have the opportunity to ride the same trained horse consistently, and that’s the first time I’ve ever been able to do something other than ride various lesson ponies. I would love to spend more time getting to know him, building up my muscle and confidence, and advancing to the level I know I have the potential to reach if I were able to ride more and be at the barn more. 

If you had asked me about obstacles to riding a year ago, I maybe would have answered simply with the financial struggles I’ve gone through and the few bouts with racist folks I’ve encountered endless times at shows, in my own barn, etc. But I really had a reckoning with why I took that five year break I spoke about from the equestrian sport, just a few months ago after George Floyd’s murder. I follow the popular equestrian podcaster, YouTuber, and +R training advocate Jill Treece (JetEquiTheory). A few months back, she was using her platform around that time to amplify black and brown riders and bring awareness to the fact that while there’s a lack of diversity generally throughout the equestrian world, media does a fantastic job of convincing us that there is no diversity to begin with. Those of us who are riders of color and queer riders—we’re constantly convinced that we’re completely alone in what we do. It wasn’t until Jill started connecting me with these other riders of color, and—I’m a little embarrassed to say but also, I’m so thankful for it!—TikTok—led me to find an incredible community of queer equestrian folks, where I got to meet another nonbinary rider for the first time ever—it wasn’t until I started meeting all these people and following equestrian diversity alliance on Instagram and joining the Facebook groups and so on and so forth that I truly realized what a weight and a stressor it was to not see myself in those who did the sport. I have never once in my life met another Filipino equestrian. I’ve never come out as nonbinary to any trainer I’ve ever had, and as a result have sort of volunteered myself via my own silence to be misgendered by my trainers throughout my riding career. Even with as kind a trainer as I have now, I fear coming out in the equestrian space because I don’t know the ripple effects of hatred and bigotry it may cause. I’d rather go under the radar and still be able to ride than feel like I’m getting quietly pushed out by those tides of racism and bigotry again. I felt so alone in the horse world for so long, and it’s incredibly difficult to put that feeling to words. This scholarship is the first time someone has said to me “I see you, and I know this is hard for you, and I’m offering you help.” That’s so huge.

As for a non-equestrian-related goal, it’s my dream to become a professor, with a focus on visual culture and abolitionist study and theory. That’s what most of my time was dedicated toward in undergrad and I would love to teach eager students about race, justice, history, and visual culture. It is a dream of mine to teach college-level courses in prisons so that people in prison have the opportunity to get college degrees while we actively work to dismantle the prison industrial complex in the meantime. Ideal situation for me—there will be no “prison” as we know them for me to teach in when I get to that stage in my life!

OYES Feature: Bryanna Tanase

OYES Feature: Bryanna Tanase

My name is Bryanna Tanase and I am a 22-year-old para-equestrian and graduate student from Tarpon Springs, FL. I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at 11 months of age and as a result rely on a wheelchair for all my daily mobility and require assistance with most daily tasks. However, I like to focus on my capabilities rather than my disability, and horses help me do just that.

My love of riding and horses started with a trip to a farm in preschool, where I became infatuated with a palomino pony, and has continued since then. Throughout my childhood, I only had small interactions with horses like pony rides at the zoo and piggybacking on vacation trail rides with my family because riding was inaccessible for me. So, I spent the majority of my younger years learning as much as I could about horses through books and movies and asking my parents for a pony every chance I had.  It was during this time that my 10 or 11-year-old self discovered dressage and paradressage through YouTube videos of Charlotte Dujardin, Laura Graves, Roxanne Trunnel, Rebecca Hart, and other well-known paraequestrian and able-bodied riders. I fell in love with the sport and knew it was something I had to pursue, and achieve the highest level of distinction in. It wasn’t until my parents enrolled me in the therapeutic riding program at Quantum Leap Farm in April of 2016 that I was finally able to learn to ride and be around horses on a regular basis. I was 17 years old, so I waited 14 years for this day. I progressed and gained so much skill and confidence in the program that I took my first independent ride in December 2016 and have been riding independently since then. In addition to riding, I have also had the opportunity to be actively involved in the care of horses and building a bond with the horse I ride. I am engaged in the equestrian community through my social media like Instagram and Facebook and am advocating for greater inclusion of paraequestrians in the media and equestrian sport at large through writing articles for outlets like US Equestrian and Kerrits Equestrian Apparel for their diversity and inclusivity projects respectively.

My future goals are to enter my first dressage show and begin proper dressage training with a dressage trainer, and my ultimate goal is to qualify for the US Paraequestrian Team and ride for the US in the Paralympics. I have made some progress toward these goals by working on 20 meter circles and other dressage movements with my trainers at Quantum.  I have connected with dressage and paradressage riders and trainers across the country to gain a better understanding of the sport and build a connection with them so we can lean on each other, such as USDF Bronze and Silver Medalist and Silver Paradressage Coach Lisa Hellmer and paradressage riders Laurietta Oakleaf and Alyssa Cleland. Furthermore, in January 2020, I received my national Grade 1 paradressage classification at the Adequan Global Dressage Festival and had the opportunity to watch international riders compete.  I have also been working to find a dressage trainer locally because I feel like I am missing a lot in terms of technical skill that I do not get in a typical therapeutic riding session. I think having a combination of both therapeutic riding and dressage training lessons will be beneficial for me because they will both serve different purposes. The dressage training rides will be for building on the basics I am familiar with and for learning new skills in a stepwise fashion, and the therapeutic rides will be for continued strengthening and revision. I have also recently found another therapeutic riding center called Emerald M with a dressage trainer onsite, am filling out the paperwork to become a rider there, and I am super excited to see how everything goes.

I have overcome many challenges to become the equestrian I am today. The first is because of my physical health which also turns into a logistical problem. Many people in the equestrian industry are very wary of taking on students with a disability because of the liability involved. I cannot tell you how many times I have been turned away from facilities and told to go somewhere else despite my enthusiasm and want to learn because it is clear that the trainer and owner believe I would be too much of a headache to handle.  If the attitude of the facility staff is not an issue, another roadblock comes in the form of the accessibility of the facility itself. The main issue is that many stables in my area do not have a safe way for me to mount and dismount, but sometimes the accessibility can be so poor that I cannot get to the barn aisles to see the horses. Even if I suggest a solution to these issues that would not be too much of a hassle to implement, I am met with unwillingness to accommodate. Additionally, if we overcome the first two obstacles, there may not be a safe horse in the barn for me to ride. Sometimes, no matter how much the barn staff wants to help, there is no prudent way for me to ride and be engaged in the culture at a barn, so I have to give up on the opportunity and try to find something else.  I would like to branch out from therapeutic riding centers to experience an able-bodied dressage barn, but I cannot do that without support from the staff there. I firmly believe that the barn should be a safe place where everyone is welcome, and that there should not be separation between able bodied and paraequestrian riders. We should be able to share our love of horses together in harmony.  Thankfully, because of the wonderful people at Quantum Leap Farm and Emerald M, I can ride despite this adversity. I have also overcome the social challenge of convincing my parents to let me pursue my athletic ambitions, after many disagreements, I won a battle well fought and they now see that pursuing my equestrian dreams is something I am passionate about. My parents are a huge part of my support team and I am so glad we can work together towards my goals. I am so grateful for all they have done for me and I know I would not be able to achieve all that I have without their help. The encouragement and advice I receive from them is really motivating.  I am the only equestrian in my family, and I am so proud to be one.

OYES Feature: Lara Ambo

OYES Feature: Lara Ambo

I was born and raised in the Philippines but I’ve been living in the Bay Area for about nine years. Since I was a little girl, I was always fascinated by horses. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was about them that mesmerized me, all I know is that the more I’m scared of something, the more I want to do it. My curiosity and fascination about horses turned into passion. I guess you can say it was in my blood all along.

In the Philippines, it was uncommon to have horse lessons or horse facilities that educated people about horses. I recall going to a park where you could rent horses and people will lead you to do multiple laps. Being young and naive, I wasn’t aware that proper attire is a must. I was just wearing sandals, shorts, a t-shirt not to mention I didn’t even know wearing a helmet was crucial. I told the worker to let go of the line and that I want to be in charge. By doing so, I made the horse trot. Back then I didn’t know it was called a “trot,” all I know is that as long as it’s not a walk speed, it’s good. I tried to do a 2 point position to copy the jockeys from the racing movies.

From then on, whenever I could, I would ask my mom to take me to the park. We’d go once in a blue moon, but I always looked forward to riding again. When we moved to America, I thought my dream would finally come true, but just like the saying goes, “it’s not always greener on the other side”. For years I tried to persuade my parents to let me take horse lessons but they argued that it’s too dangerous, expensive, and no one can drive me. I tried to make up solutions and plans just to make it work but I was always shut down.

My dad always preached that if I can’t find a way to make it work without involving others, there is no way it’s going to happen. I never gave up and kept bugging them for my ideas on how to make it work but it was always rejected by them. It was an unwinnable situation. Being a retired sergeant, my dad was strict when it came to teaching me how to drive. Three months of learning how to drive a stick shift with him felt like hell. I didn’t give up because I knew that if I wanted to accomplish my dream, I had to learn to be independent from them. I also started working at FedEx to save up money for college and riding lessons but doing a lesson once a week was still too expensive for me. I can drive, I work, I study hard, and make sure my chores are done that way so they can’t say anything against me, and once I felt ready again to ask them if they’ll allow me to ride, again they said, “No, it’s too dangerous.”

I got so frustrated that I told them I respect their decisions but I’m tired of wasting my life not doing the thing I love the most. I decided that no one could stop me from reaching my dreams this time. The next day, I went “barn hopping” to inquire and find a perfect match for what I was looking for. I had zero experience, but I was willing to learn and volunteer but unfortunately, no one was willing to take my offer.

Finally, I found Piedmont Stables. For about six months, I was just going up there everyday, greeting the staff and the horses. I was trying to advertise myself and making connections from scratch. After months of networking, I found a lady who was willing to let me lease her horse.

When I took my horse lesson for the first time, my trainer asked me what my goal was and I told her I want to learn equitation and jumping. After a year of leasing a horse, I realized that my goal has changed. I want to be the best equestrian version of myself. My goal is to learn and expand my knowledge of different disciplines such as western and English. I want to learn more about saddle fitting, conformation, training a green horse, liberty training, natural horsemanship, what it takes to be a good horse owner, what it takes to own a horse related business, and other horse related things. I want to continue my equestrian lifestyle for the rest of my life.

I was happy when I started taking lessons once a week, but I found it difficult to feel proud of myself because I can’t help but compare myself to other children who are younger and better than me. Deep inside I was ashamed that I started riding at the age of 18 and can’t help but ask myself “I wonder if I would be jumping by now if I started riding when I was 12?” I became hard on myself and grew to hate myself each day whenever I don’t see any progress because I was trying to make up for the time I wasted. Feeling insecure about myself and my riding is an ongoing challenge.

I’ve always wanted to have my own horse but I want to make sure I have all the knowledge I can get and also make sure that it is the right timing to do so. Being a good horsewoman and trainer is something that is a process and doesn’t have limitations. I started my learning process when I leased my first horse and ever since then I was eager to expand my knowledge and skills.

I currently attend college part-time for art and design and work at FedEx part-time. I’m still not fully decided on what I want to pursue as a career because I am torn between following the “Known” path as an art teacher where I have a secure job but I am not passionate about it versus the “Unknown” path where I pursue my passion for horses. I’m not sure where or how to start and make it into a successful career. Someday, I want to have my own ranch where I can use it to collaborate with a school and have students do volunteer work, or a group of students can make a riding club at their school. I just want to give BIPOC students an opportunity to start a career related to horses at a young age.

OYES Feature: Milan Berry

OYES Feature: Milan Berry

Usually when I tell people that I speak Chinese and ride horses, I get more than a few head-turns and eyebrow raises. Being an African American woman, most people wouldn’t expect me to speak one of the world’s hardest languages, as well as have the ability and physicality to control a one-ton animal with my heels, leg, and seat.

I think that it takes a special type of person to willingly walk into an unknown situation with no allies or support system behind you, and still come out swinging and successful. I’d like to think that I am experienced in this aspect, as some of the most important parts of me stem from being the “only one”.  I believe it truly makes me unique, an anomaly, but never in a negative sense.

My name is Milan Berry. I am a senior at Georgia Southern University double majoring in International Studies and Chinese Language, and I am the current Secretary of the Georgia Southern Equestrian Team. Through this University-sponsored club team, I have been riding English consistently in weekly lessons for around 4 years now, and the Equestrian Team is trained by Eleanor Ellis, out of Evermore Farm. English is truly the discipline I am passionate about, but my wildest hopes and dreams stem from eventing. Watching the horses gallop cross-country, jumping over monster sized landscapes gets my adrenaline pumping. This is why eventing is my favorite discipline, one I hope to be able to participate in within the near future.

Horses have been a lifelong fascination for me. As a toddler, and I vividly remember watching the 1994 version of Black Beauty on cassette tape. Watching the black stallion gallop across fields, throw its head and rear took my breath away in ways I still remember clearly to this day. They were magical creatures, animals that were so big but so full of life and personality. Ever since then, I have been fascinated with them and the sport that horseback riding is.

Since I am completely financially independent from my parents, I use money from my student loan refund to pay for lessons, as well as show fees and riding clothes. This is the only way I would be able to afford riding, and I also work two part-time jobs to afford extra lessons and showing opportunities. I am the only African American English rider on my Equestrian team, and I am the first POC to serve in an officer’s position in the entire history of the club. As the secretary of the Georgia Southern Equestrian Team, I am responsible for recruitment and the management of our social media profiles and influence. Currently I only show in walk-trot, but I attend two lessons weekly where I walk, trot, canter, and have jumped up to 2 foot. Although it is hard to ignore when I am the only POC lessoning and competing, I have never allowed this isolation to stop me.

Throughout my time riding, I quickly became aware of the fact that I was isolated via race. I noticed it while watching the Olympics in 2016, I noticed that I never saw people of color in the Dover catalogs I receive in the mail. I especially noticed it in the show ring, when even to this day I am often the only person of color competing. Although the horses that we ride do not see color or race, it is hard to be the only person who looks like you in a show ring or lesson. It is hard to not see many people of your race at the very top of the sport, competing in Grand Prixes and winning hundred thousand-dollar derbies. And it is especially hard as of recently with so many large equestrian companies and brands speaking out about diversity and inclusiveness in our sport, and to see many influential equestrians speak against it. How do I explain my experiences to people when there are so few people like me to share theirs as well? Having the monetary funds to maintain horses is a privilege that many people don’t understand, especially if they were born into the lifestyle that I try my best to spread awareness of this fact, as riding horses has truly taught me the results of hard-work, perseverance, consistency, and grit.

When I think back to my younger self, I would have never imagined being in the position I am today. There were a variety of factors that prohibited my ability to ride when I was younger, but the most significant ones were finances and distance. Due to financial hardship within my family, riding as consistently as I do was a dream to me at one point in time. I remember begging my parents for lessons, giving them all types of addresses and names of barns that they could take me to. But as I grew up and kept asking, I quickly realized how expensive horses were. Average lesson prices in my hometown of Atlanta, Georgia are around $60.00 to $70.00 dollars an hour, and even as a pre-teen I knew my family couldn’t afford it. This didn’t stop me though. Right around the age of 14 and 15, I began catching Atlanta’s public transportation system to get around the city. This gave me a wider range of freedom, and I spent countless hours on buses and trains to get to a therapeutic riding program I began volunteering at about 20 miles north of the city center. These volunteer sessions taught me the most basic skills, such as tacking up and grooming. This was how I got my “horse fix” my freshman year of high school, and my interactions with horses only grew from there. I later accepted two working student positions in the summer of 2014 at a hunter/jumper barn, and the summer of 2016 at a local trail-riding business. After 2016, I did not ride another horse until I was a freshman at Georgia Southern. 

As a double major in International Studies and Chinese Language, other countries and cultures have always intrigued me. I began learning Chinese at the age of 14 and learning the language had provided me two international experiences before I turned 21. I am proud to say that studying Chinese led me to the opportunity of becoming a Benjamin Gilman Scholar, a U.S. Department of State program that funds study abroad initiatives for low-income students. I spent a month attending East China Normal University in the Summer of 2019, taking a Chinese International Relations class. I learned about different aspects of China’s international relationships with other countries, as well as key details about Chinese foreign policy. Receiving this scholarship was truly life-changing, as it opened my eyes to the possibilities of a career abroad and specifically within the Foreign Service. The fellowships that I am applying for could potentially completely pay for my graduate school and assure me a career within the U.S. Department of State. My goal is that I will earn enough money to own my own horse someday and be able to afford lessons and training as well.

The opportunity provided by the Optimum Youth Equestrian Scholarship means the world to me. I am truly grateful to use this riding scholarship to not only improve my personal riding skills, but to raise and encourage awareness for diversity and inclusion in the sport itself. Horses have taught me the value of patience, hard work, perseverance, and above all the will to excel no matter my environment. Thank you for believing in me and I hope we will be able to bring people from all walks of life into the wonderful place that is the equestrian community.

Act Now, Talk Later

Act Now, Talk Later

In June, I attended the Diversity in Horse Sports forum hosted by Heels Down Mag for a few reasons: I wanted to listen to stories of equestrians whose paths have differed from mine, I wanted to learn from these horse women, and I wanted to know what I could do to help. 


The simple, clear answer came from Abriana Johnson: “Act first, talk about it later.” She acknowledged that solidarity with an Instagram post is a nice gesture, but it’s simply that: a gesture. She questioned the audience of nearly a hundred equestrians, “What are you doing in your community? What funds have you allocated? How have you used your influence to make a difference?”


Time for action. A seed of an idea was planted that night, and with the help of many others it took root and began to grow. Today, alongside my friends and co-board members, Shaquilla Blake and Jacqueline Ely, we are excited to announce the launch of Optimum Youth Equestrian Scholarship which will give financial stipends for riding, training or showing and also provide mentorship for young equestrians.


Our mission is to provide opportunities for youth aged 17-27 from marginalized communities to become involved or stay involved in horse sports through financial awards and mentorship focusing on not only horsemanship and equestrian pursuits, but also career planning and education. We believe that opportunities for riding, training, and showing are not easily attainable to individuals facing socioeconomic and accessibility hurdles as well as overt and passive discrimination based upon their race, sexual orientation, or gender identity. Together we seek to bridge this gap through the sharing of knowledge, opportunities, and solidarity. 


All applicants will be matched with a mentor who will be asked to meet virtually with the youth applicant at least once. Ongoing communication will be up to the mentor and the applicant to decide upon, but our goal is that within these meetings, mentors can provide perspective on career choices, share resources and ideas to help further that applicant’s riding goals, or even connect applicants with potential opportunities within the mentor’s circle– opening doors for connections that lead to internships, jobs, or meetings with helpful horse people from the applicant’s area.

The board of O-YES. Read more about us on the
scholarship page

Our mentors have competed or trained in eventing, dressage, hunters, jumpers, and even working equitation. We have amateurs and professionals alike who have started young horses, retrained off the track Thoroughbreds, and developed their own show horses. The horsemanship skills range from running a backyard farm, to showing on a budget, to managing an equine business. With mentors from most major cities across the US and a wide variety of colleges and universities, we hope that these connections will open doors for the applicants and provide opportunities for young professionals.

A few of our mentors have careers within the horse industry, but most are ambitious amateurs who have chosen careers that will help fund their riding and competition plans. The mentors have joined the program because all of us believe the horses have given us so much: it is time to give back and help others find the empowerment of being a horse person. Want to join us? Head over to the Scholarship page to learn more about ways to donate, mentor, or get involved. Together we can make a difference, one rider at a time. 

Can I get an OYES?! Follow us on social media to follow the journey @oyesequestrian
The Perfect Sale Ad

The Perfect Sale Ad

Each time you scroll by a sale ad, it must depict the ‘perfect horse.’ The ad will tout all of the virtues of this horse, starting with the most basic skills: loads, ties, stands for the vet and farrier, easy to clip and to bathe, sound, no vices, cooperative in turnout with other horses… but all of that stuff you just gloss over. It’s a formality, a prerequisite. Of course every horse can do those things, right? Wrong.


Now having the privilege of taming and training my very own ‘feral horse’ I am here to tell you that this dream horse you’re looking at online doesn’t “just do” those things. Someone taught that horse all of those skills with painstaking repetition and thoughtful preparation and the patience of someone who has never owned a watch or a calendar.


I’m not saying little Lucy isn’t wonderful and she’s definitely as easy as they come. BUT, it has taken me nearly 11 months just to install these prerequisites of “How to Horse” with the help of a lot of YouTube, countless books, and endless phone calls to people who have bravely and successfully completed the baby thing before me. (A lot of people are in this category, but mostly it’s been Nina Catanzarite, shout out to her!) 


Some things were quite straightforward and Lucy more or less learned ‘by the book’ with me following the plans that the experts recommended. My mantra was always ‘one step at a time’ and the only hard thing about that process was learning how to laugh it off when people would inquire, “well have you done this yet, have you done that yet, when are you going to ride her?!” I learned with sweet ol’ Beau that it’s a heck of a lot easier and faster to do something right the first time, than if you have to go back and undo your hasty mistakes. Within weeks, Lucy had learned how to lead, tie, and stand and I was just thrilled. 


Our next major goal was trailer loading, which also went more or less according to plan, albeit very slowly and methodically. It did not take long to figure out that Lucy was very sensitive, very timid, but also very smart. Her being a quick study could easily work against me if I accidentally taught her to expect a bad experience, or if she learned that her fear was justified. We started out with the most basic task: put your little hoof onto a tarp. Now onto a piece of plywood. Now walk the whole way across it. Now walk across it with two barrels on either side. Now the barrels get more narrow and touch you, keep walking across it. Now back through. Now stand on it. These little steps were done one tiny bit a time, never more than one step in a day. She was always cautious and always skeptical, but as long as I only asked for a little more, then a little more, she obliged and grew more confident. Eventually we started feeding her dinner on the trailer ramp. Then in the trailer. Then we put the butt bar up and gave her some snacks. We walked on and off, on and off. We did one test lap around the block. We hauled her to a nearby farm with a friend. Then farther away and without a friend. (Shout out to Katey Simons for all of her help with this!) Months later, and she’s a trailer loading pro.


But this blog isn’t about the times that her training went according to plan. It’s about the things it took her six months to get over (clippers) or nine months to get over (fly spray) or my latest major victory: bathing. That was a hard one, and I’m lucky we conquered the other two super intense activities first, or… well, let’s just leave it at that.


Lucy is a dressage horse (or she will be) so it’s a good thing that she’s sensitive to the lightest touch on her body. But it can completely overwhelm her into a panic. My saving grace is that she has learned how to love being groomed and being massaged. After slow, patient sessions, she learned to relax into the rhythm of each touch and stand quietly. I used gentle massage techniques to help relax her during our first sessions with a girth and it was only with the help of a soft brush that I was able to acclimate her to the sound and sensation of fly spray and clippers. But the hose, oh my goodness, the hose!! It took two solid months for me to convince her the hose was not a predator. During those two months, I just quietly groomed and tacked her up in the wash stall and didn’t even look at the hose. We then graduated to grooming and tacking up in the wash stall while I held the hose and didn’t do anything with it while everyone laughed at me. Then I started grooming her while I gently sprayed the hose, but didn’t dare touch her with a drop of water. I will never forget how joyful it felt to finally spray her little foot on the ‘mist’ setting only. It took how many months, but finally I was able to spray my filly’s left front foot with the hose!


After that monumental breakthrough, things progressed much more quickly. Day by day, she allowed me to touch more and more of her body with the water. This (fortunately) coincided with a nasty heat wave so not only did I absolutely need to hose her off, she began to find the water much more tolerable. Within a week, she was able to stand quietly while I simultaneously brushed her to soothe her with the familiar feeling of grooming while also spraying her ever so gently with the hose. (To date, we have only mastered the mist setting, but I have my eyes on the prize, aka, shower setting. And someday, bubbles too). 


So why am I telling this incredibly silly story of bathing my three year old? To remind myself how impossibly impossible this was just a few months ago and that there will be more impossibilities in the future with this horse.  And to have a little chuckle about those perfect horse for sale ads. Lucy now stands stands quietly in crossties, loads like a champ, is adored by her vet and farrier, and soon, will be a pro at bubble baths. But how is she under saddle? I guess we’ll find out!

My neatly groomed and braided filly at her first show! Trotting that triangle was the easy part.
Photo courtesy Kate Rebecca Photography
Labor of Love

Labor of Love

Eight weeks ago, when I moved Lucy to a boarding barn, I had plenty of plans for what she was going to learn next. With access to an indoor arena and lights making it possible for me to work with her in the short, dark days of winter, I thought she’d progress even more rapidly than she did in her first 12 weeks with me. 

Not. So. Much.

Little trouble and big trouble, Lucy & Charlie Brown

I don’t want to say ‘things quickly unraveled,’ but they pretty much did. My once sweet and mild mannered filly was a little overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of a training barn with 30 horses and all the equipment that comes with it. The arena I dreamed of working in became a terrifying death trap in her mind, and we had to make a quick exit anytime another horse entered. Some days she still had her stop, go, and turn buttons and other days she was a terrified mess. Some days I was proud that I could lead her down a very steep hill in the dark and the wind and other days I had to ask myself, ‘am I in the mood to almost die today?’

Am I the mood to put on 8 layers of pants and then almost die? Sure.
Photo credit: Kate Rebecca Photography

After a particularly traumatizing day involving two geldings in turnout charging at her (because I was stupid enough to try to lead her past two geldings in turnout), then being cornered between a dump truck and a tractor while on crossties, followed by a flock of chickens flying into her face, she was fried. I drove home feeling utterly defeated and wondered if the poor little thing would ever let me catch her again after everything I put her through. I felt lost, not sure what to do next. I was plagued with self-doubt, able to convince myself that every move I made was wrong. To leave her in the field and forget about it was to avoid and ignore the problem. To bring her out and confront the scary world was overfacing her. I convinced myself I didn’t know her well enough to know what the answer was, and each day when something went wrong, as it inevitably would, I told myself it was proof that I was making the wrong choice day after day.

All of this came, of course, in a super fun string of windchills in the teens kind of days. It came on the heels of an abscess for her and for her overly-attached and over bearing pasture mate, the infamous Charlie Brown. It occurred when real-life and my day job were approaching that nearly unmanageable level of crazy that makes you want to just stay home and hibernate.  Lucky for me, that’s never an option though. Barn girls don’t get nights off, not when horses need to be fed and hoses thawed to fill up ice-crusted water buckets. So night after night I went to the barn anyways. On nights I didn’t want to do anything with her, I at least did something. I insisted on manners coming in and out of the gate. I picked up that foot she didn’t want to give me. I tried to show her that clippers aren’t that scary. But night after night, I kicked myself for not doing more, for letting all those weekly and monthly goals written on my calendar just slip by.

Despite the frozen mud under my feet, I was feeling spring creeping up and beyond that, the summer show season I had been dreaming about. I started whining to my friends and my husband about it (Sorry, Krissy. Sorry, Art.) and as I heard myself whining and making all of my excuses, I realized that Lucy’s lack of confidence had been wearing off on me. It was supposed to be the other way around. I was supposed to be the fearless leader making this baby horse feel more confident, yet in the ways that animals often do, she was the one training me. I was becoming afraid and I was avoiding everything that was terrifying me.

Per usual, I came home cold and grumpy and defeated one of those nights that were like all of the other nights. Read something, my husband told me. Maybe you can find some answers in one of those training books. Indeed, my bedside table is stacked with books on dressage, massage, and starting youngsters (thank you Nina!) and I’ve been slowly making my way through all of them. I wasn’t drawn to any of the practical how-to texts that night though and something made me reach for the more philosophical ‘Horsemanship,’ the old classic by Waldemar Seunig gifted to me by Kristin Hermann many moons ago. I opened it to the last dog-eared page and not two paragraphs in to where I’d last left off was the section on the psychological qualities of the rider. He outlines three, but most importantly, above all else, the very first one is: LOVE THE HORSE.

“A horse will overcome its inborn shyness and gain confidence, the fundamental condition for mutual understanding, with a man whose love it feels.”

As I read on, it became clearer and clearer that this was exactly the advice and perspective that I needed that night. Why did I get this baby horse in the first place? Why do I have a fat retiree living his best life as a pasture puff? Because I love them. I love caring for them, I love training them. I love the horribly non-linear process that is progress with horses, I do. The motivation for training has to be rooted in the love for the animal.

In the finger-freezing cold and the brain-numbing dark of winter it’s a little easier to lose sight of this and get bogged down in the monotony of day-to-day survival. It sure doesn’t feel like progress and it sure isn’t very rewarding. But despite the lack of reportable progress, I have to remind myself that it’s not all for nothing. Each day she comes in and out of the field like a good citizen and each day she stands to be groomed she is learning something very important–she is learning that I’m her person. My viewpoint was refocused by another helpful passage on the secondmost important facet: PATIENCE.

An excerpt from “Horsemanship” by Waldemar Seunig

“Anyone who loves his horse will be patient, and patience, inexhaustible patience –especially when physical and psychological defects are present–is necessary to make the horse understand what we want of it.”

Despite the recent onslaught of hurdles, I will solider on. I will handle her with the required inexhaustible patience, I will train her with aids as gentle as possible and as firm as necessary. I’ll seek out good trainers and follow the tenets of the masters because damn if I don’t love this little mare already. 

Thankful for: Difficult Roads and Beautiful Destinations

Thankful for: Difficult Roads and Beautiful Destinations

Perspective is a funny thing. If you would have told me last year that my champion dressage horse was going to be an equine lawnmower this year, I a) wouldn’t have believed you and b) would have been inconsolable and completely crushed. Instead, here we are, a year later and I am positively THRILLED that my Beau is a happy pasture ornament.

I repeat: Beau is now happily living his best life, with his yak coat in its full fluffy glory, his long mane a far cry from the neatly pulled show horse look and his weight solidly in the “thick” category. The old man doesn’t miss many (any) meals and his new hobbies include feeding the birds (pooping) and landscaping (eating). Seeing him calmly and happily enjoying his new life brings my heart a kind of peace I could not have imagined I would have. I’m thankful that the long road of his recovery has seemingly reached and its end and oddly enough I am thankful for the difficulty of that road.

Had things not gotten as bad as they did, I likely would not have found the peace and gratitude I have now, after 11 months of rehabbing a horse on stall rest. I didn’t know it then, but you know what they say about hindsight… after facing other much worse potential outcomes, I feel nothing but gratitude when I see my heart horse enjoying his retirement. Eleven months of daily trips to the barn so that he could enjoy a few minutes outside of his stall. Eleven months of uncertainty weighing on me, unsure of what his future would look like. Eleven months of hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Eleven months of closing him in his stall every night and knowing he didn’t understand why he couldn’t go outside. That anguish has made me truly grateful for the normalcy and peacefulness of the present. It is such a simple and a profound joy–to pull into the barn driveway and see your beloved friend in the pasture, as happy as could be.

Meanwhile in the pasture next door, Lucy is working on growing up to be a real horse. I don’t yet have the bond and the emotional connection with her like I do with her big brother, but I do believe she’s going to become something special. Each day I work on teaching her “how to horse” and I am so very grateful for the promise of a bright future with her. I don’t expect her to ever fill his shoes (I mean, come on, his feet are huge) but with any luck she’ll grow up to be a good citizen and a horse that allows me continue to compete in the sport I love and take part in the life I am so passionate about. I know that it’ll be a difficult road ahead with her too–raising and training a two-year-old isn’t for the faint of heart either. But I know now that difficult journeys lead to the most rewarding and beautiful destinations. I’m up for the challenge because I know where ever this road takes us, I’m headed in the right direction.

With the difficult journey behind us at long last, I am grateful for the eight seasons I spent competing my heart horse. To me, it feels like it ended too soon but in retrospect–what a career. I am so very grateful to still have this special horse in my life, doing what he’s always done.  Some might look at these retirees as senselessly expensive pets, horses who no longer serve a purpose. I realized that not only does this horse still have a purpose, it’s the exact purpose he’s had all along: to bring me joy.

I cannot tell you that these last eleven months have not been a difficult road to travel, but someway somehow I ended up somewhere beautiful.