By STACEY WELLS
Horse Girl Energy—we have all been told we have it, with many of us hearing it said concerningly on a first date or in a lewd comment from a random man in the grocery store. The phrase has even seeped into pop culture, with Mashable rudely calling horse girls “blissfully clueless about the world.” Despite the continuous misdefinitions and jabs, Horse Girl Energy is an incredible quality, and every equestrian I have met has it.
This energy comes from caring for 1,000-pound horses, from swinging a leg over an animal that does not speak our language, from being in a female-dominated industry. Every day, female equestrians walk together to lug hay bales, drive trucks and trailers, bring in horses two at a time, fix fence posts, and still have the mental bandwidth to communicate kindly with our equine companions. We are a direct, straightforward bunch—we are here for the horses and it shows in everything we do.
My childhood riding instructor was blunt, fair, and always focused on communication with my equine partner. When I leaned before a jump and fell off, she just smiled. “Told you not to do that. Good thing you didn’t land on the poles. Now get on and try again.”
Throughout my junior career, I was guided through the levels by a short blond woman with a big personality and a booming voice that could be heard across show grounds. She would tell us point-blank if we messed up but always praised our improvements, no matter how small. She commanded respect from her students and expected us to be ready to work, whether we were in the saddle or cleaning stalls. She fiercely protected her herd of both horses and humans, and I watched as she stood her ground against irate parents and spooky geldings alike.
The instructor for my college equestrian team promoted horsemanship over everything and expected top effort regardless of results. When I made a huge mistake at Zones (maybe don’t pick up the wrong lead directly in front of the judge) and fretted about if I could compete against these riders, she put her hand on my shoulder, saying: “You qualified at Regionals like every other rider here. Now, we can complain and go home, or we can go learn our jump course.” No anger, no pity, no beating around the bush. Just the facts. I nodded, buckled my helmet, and rode to a third place out of 12 brilliant riders.
My instructor directly after college emphasized basics, clear commands, and practice. During my brief stint into western riding, I found more of the same—strong women training both yearlings and young riders. My current instructor tells it like it is, which is often the very simple fact that I need more inside leg.
The adult amateurs I have ridden with have the same energy—strong, direct, and hard-working. Many of my fellow student-athletes joined the male-dominated industries of science and engineering, while still juggling horses on the side. I have ridden with equestrians in their 70s who tell me tales of trail ride antics and, with raucous laughter, about that one time a wild turkey charged their group. I see my horse-loving friends, in the midst of their career development during their 20s and 30s, work hard every day, just to drive into the barn at 7 p.m. to ride. I watch the next generation of riders put their phones away and spend hours chatting with friends while sweeping the barn before lessons, learning how to polo wrap correctly, and stating their opinions on the latest competition results.
In a time when women’s rights and advancements are being threatened, I am grateful for this community. In a time when men are encouraged to have fun, time-consuming hobbies and women are still expected to partake only in hobbies that benefit others, I am grateful for the women who show up at the barn. In a time when it can be hard to be a woman, I am grateful for my fellow female equestrians.
And I am proud to have Horse Girl Energy.
Stacey Wells has been riding for 20 years, primarily in hunter/jumper and equitation, and has recently transitioned to eventing. She resides in Maryland and is currently leasing an off-track Thoroughbred.
