BY ANONYMOUS
I’m writing this anonymously because, frankly, this isn’t about me. For those who feel they need a wall of credentials before they’ll listen, I’ll save you some time: I’m not a social media influencer, and I’m not a big-name trainer.
I’m a professional dressage rider—and a perfectly average one at that. Over my thirty years as a dressage rider, I’ve produced some great amateur horses, won some things, and coached a satisfying number of riders to victory laps at Regional Championships, US Finals, and the AECs. In the grand ecosystem of our sport, that makes me pretty underwhelming. But it’s exactly this averageness that gives me a front-row seat to the fracturing of our community.
The Death of Inspiration
Dressage participation is in decline. While we can blame the economy and “ride it out” (pun intended), there is a deeper, more painful issue: the widening chasm between the “Elite” and the rest of us.
When I started at twelve years old, that gap existed, but it was aspirational. We used to host barn parties to watch months-old VHS tapes of European championships. We dreamed of riding like them. Today, that inspiration has curdled into disdain. The “haves” and the “have-nots” are now so far apart that the top tier of the sport, the Wellington and Southern California circuits, feels like a different planet. What used to be a dream now feels entirely unobtainable, even in our imagination.
The “Grassroots” Problem
We need to talk about the term “grassroots.” I kind of hate it. The USDF, our GMOs, and the USEF use it constantly, but consider the imagery. Roots are underground. They are in the dirt, unseen.
This framing suggests that the majority of our riders exist only to be the “underground factor” that supports the flowers at the top. But we aren’t just the dirt beneath the elite; we are the lifeblood of the sport itself. In a world that increasingly values visibility, we need to stop acting like the heart of the industry should be content to stay buried and uncelebrated.
In my inner circle of professionals, we’ve come to a realization: Longevity is a much better measure of success than ribbons or medals. If we want this sport to survive, we have to change our branding. Let’s be real: High Performance is shiny, fun, and f***ing expensive. It has become a billionaire’s game. I have no interest in changing that. Every sport needs its peak, but we are failing because we aren’t promoting any other version of success.
The Youth and Amateur Tax
This hyper-focus on the “Elite Performance Pathway” is toxic for our kids. Look at the Young Rider programs. They are almost exclusively focused on NAYC. We are coaching talented, horse-loving teenagers to seek out sponsors who can afford six-figure mounts just to get a foot in the door.
I was the kid who never made the NAYC team, and I can tell you firsthand—the cost of that ‘failure’ is a crushing mental tax. When we teach youth that talent is only validated by a single championship with massive financial barriers, we set them up to burn out. They don’t just walk away from the ring; they disappear from the industry.
The expansion of Dressage4Kids is more than just a success story; it is a signal. It highlights the critical importance of decoupling talent from wealth and reminds us that a rider’s value isn’t defined by their access to the high-performance pipeline or the depth of the resources behind them.
The same applies to our amateurs. Aside from rider medals, what long-term path is laid out for them? If you don’t have the means to campaign at recognized shows, the industry subtly suggests you should just accept being a “recreational” rider, as if that is somehow a lesser pursuit. It’s oppressive. We’ve created a culture where if you aren’t on the “pathway,” you’re essentially background noise.
The Six-Figure Myth
I was recently told that no Adult Amateur can compete successfully without a six-figure horse. While I disagree entirely, we have to acknowledge that this is the reigning perception. It’s the “pay-to-play” cloud hanging over every warm-up ring.
We often complain that the Europeans beat us, but we ignore their structure. In Europe, the “middle class” of the industry is respected. There is a place and a level of prestige for riding schools, breeders, young horse trainers, and coaches. Not just the Olympians. Not exclusively the big show winners.
In America, we hyper-focus on “High Performance.” Even the name implies it sits above everyone else, when in reality, it should just be one spoke on a wheel. Trust me, those of us with no aspirations for a Wellington CDI feel the judgment. To many, the idea that a professional simply doesn’t care about the international ring is a novel, even offensive, concept. Dressage is not just a sport; it’s an art. But where is the celebration of that?
The Cost of the Chasm
This “Medal-or-Bust” mentality does more than just hurt our egos; it actively drains the talent pool. Riders feel they must seek out a trainer with international success, even if that person has no interest in the slow, methodical development of a “normal” horse or the nuance of teaching an amateur. They bypass the committed middle-class trainers, the ones dedicated to the craft of instruction and the long-term health of the horse, simply because those trainers may lack the “High Performance” label.
Our sport desperately needs more paths to success and benchmarks that exist outside the show ring. As long as the industry defines “Making the Team” as the only true pinnacle of a riding career, we will continue to lose the interest of the very people who keep the industry alive. We cannot change the fact that the international path requires a fortune, and frankly, I don’t care to. What I care about is the fact that we are not offering an equal seat at the table to everyone else.
Being the Change
It is time to stop calling ourselves the “grassroots” and start acknowledging what we really are: The Heart.
Nothing in this industry exists without the average trainer, the dedicated Adult Amateur, and the dreaming youth. The quiet majority of us who are riding those 20m circles, half passes, and half steps every day without any CDI’s on the calendar.
If we want a culture that celebrates the middle class, we cannot wait for a governing body to hand it to us. This is a shift that happens in the barn aisles, in how we choose our trainers, and in how we define our own “victory laps” at home.
Moving the Needle
Let’s get started by looking away from the screen. The irony of telling an online audience to unplug is not lost on me, but we must stop equating “most followers” with “most authority.” Comparison is the thief of joy, and the algorithm is its accomplice. Anyone in the digital world who identifies as a dressage lover is bound to scroll through endless miles of curated perfection: the prestige of Florida showgrounds, perpetual sunshine, and a thousand ads for the expensive tack we’re told we lack. We’ve fallen into a trap where we prioritize the loudest digital presence over the quiet integrity of the training itself.
I chose to write this anonymously because I want the message to stand on its own, free from the bias of who I am, how many high scores I have, or whether or not I’m a brand ambassador. We need to stop waiting for “Big Names” to validate our experiences and start validating each other.
Next, we need to advocate for—and participate in—programs that reward training milestones, horse longevity, and coaching excellence rather than just raw scores in a CDI arena. Real progress starts when we stop funneling all our financial and emotional resources upward and start reinvesting in the community thriving in our own local barns.
We don’t need a national committee to give us permission to celebrate each other; we just need to start showing up with excellence for the sport we actually live every day. The power to change the narrative has always been in our hands. It’s time we stop waiting for permission and start being the change we want to see in the mirror.
