18th
Why Little Girls Love Horses (and sorry, it's not dirty)
As part of The Panty Raid’s ongoing investigation into the sudden departure of Archie Comics’ “fairy blogmother” Patty and her subsequent reappearance as the moderator of an equine fan fiction site for girls, I had promised a juicy think-piece from one time trotter a sometimes jumper Rhiannon Brock on the female obsession with horsies. This one’s for you, Flicka fans! (btw, I’ve been linking Rhiannon to FHaHB, but she informs me it’s long since died. However, she does write occassionally for these guys).
Why Little Girls Love Horses (and sorry, it’s not dirty)
by Rhiannon Brock
As much as I hate to dwell in gender stereotypes, I loved ponies and horses the same way my brother liked guns and cars. I drew them, wrote elaborate stories about them, read the Saddle Club series, cut their photos out of magazines. I even faked a whole horse-centric life while corresponding with an Aussie pen pal (I told her I was the youngest daughter in a wealthy family and lived on a huge farm). Most importantly, I rode them as often as possible – three times every weekend for almost a decade. And although there were a few boys at my stables and the occasional male teacher, the ratio of females to males was easily 30:1.
So what is it about horses that made me do the crazy?
Before the obvious parallels are drawn between posting trot and woman-on-top or reverse cowgirl, let me explain something about proper English riding techniques: if you’re doing it right, most of the time your buttocks (not your ladybits) are actually drawn in below you. Not much chance for saddle-induced sexy time. Sorry Adam Ant. That’s not to say there isn’t something vaguely orgasmic about galloping across a field or completing a round of show jumping – it’s just not much more than what you’d find at the end of a bicycle race. If anything, when most girls hit puberty they drift away from the sport, whether for lack of funds or a new obsession (boys). The daydreaming, doodling and magazines follow suit. Lucky for me, when my sister switched to Seventeen from Horse & Rider, I got all her cast-offs.
Looking back (and I am looking back. I haven’t ridden in years, and it breaks my heart), I’d say my love of horses boiled down to a few major points:
1. My love of animals over all. So much better than people when you’re 10. Short of bestiality, it’s difficult to forge a closer human-animal relationship than that between horse and rider. When you’re riding, they pick up on every unspoken cue.
2. The power and responsibility. I could barely babysit but was being trusted with the care of a barn full of thousand pound animals. I couldn’t drive but was training a yearling to jump five-foot fences. I had my foot stepped on, fell into ditches, got kicked – and knew I was expected to take it all in stride.
3. Girls on top. There’s no room for meekness in the ring, only a mix of skill and a competitive spirit – not that there was a battle of the sexes or anything at my stables (except maybe with this one guy who flew in from Egypt every summer). One of my male teachers even mentioned that women’s hips and centre of gravity lend themselves to riding. Plus upper body strength doesn’t mean much when you’re doing, say, dressage. Just as puberty reared its ugly head in my high school gym classes, sending the girls off to do aerobics and the boys to play baseball, girls were consistently kicking ass in riding class and at horse shows. They still do – along with yachting, equestrian events are the only Olympic sports where men and women compete equally.
4. I’ll concede this: the outfits are cool. Jodhpurs, chaps, leather boots, French braids. Ralph Lauren’s no fool.
I still get wistful when the CBC plays show jumping on Sundays, and angry when someone questions whether it’s ‘really’ a sport. I’m not twirling my hair and imagining unicorns here, I’m thinking of suiting up in full-on cross-country gear and galloping across a field, jumping ditches and brick walls.
