The Mean Girls of the Horse World
I wrote this post in the hopes that it will help anyone who has suffered at the hands of a mean girl. Know this:
1) I am so sorry you are experiencing this. You are worthy of love and friendship, exactly as you are.
2) Don’t try to change yourself for the things they say about you. Own these things. They are what make you uniquely you, and one day, by being truly yourself, you will magnetize the people that you need in your life. There are people in the world who will cherish you for the parts of you that have been told are too much, or not enough.
3) Never appease a bully, it only feeds her since she knows it is working. Tell her directly to stop: “I don’t like when you say I’m a bad rider and point and laugh at me when I am riding. That is mean, and it is not OK. I won’t tolerate this behavior from you. Please stop.”
4) Her bullying is a reflection of her inner sadness, hurt, or anger. It has literally nothing to do with you.
5) You’ve named the behavior and asked her directly to stop, but she’s still bullying you. Get help from a trusted adult, if you have one. Or call a kids help line.
6) Focus your energy on yourself. Boost your self-esteem (affirmations, meditation, journaling, appreciation of the good things you have in your life - these will all help).
7) No one has helped you really and it’s still happening. Change your situation, leave, find a new stable. You’ll be better off in a supportive environment where you can thrive and flourish.
Jodie was my BFF in junior high. She lived on an acreage outside of town, and a few of us boarded our horses there. Her family owned horses and mules - Jodie’s dad hunted elk deep in the backcountry. Jodie’s mom, from the Ktunaxa First Nation, was a born horsewoman. She had found Jodie a cute Quarter Horse who evented, jumped, and barrel raced - all at a high level. Jodie was an exceptionally good rider, tough as nails, and was getting good ribbons in 1.0 metre classes at eleven.
Jodie’s parents gave her everything under the sun, in the hopes of keeping her interested in horses and not in boys (spoiler alert: it didn’t work). They built Jodie her very own riding arena and a bunch of jumps. They had a truck, a horse trailer, and a camper so they could camp at shows. They required Jodie to show at least three times a year. To me, Jodie had the perfect life.
I basically lived at her house. In summer we slept in the hayloft, sweet hay perfuming our slumber. We woke at dawn to do serious riding: we were athletes. In the afternoon, when it was too hot for much of anything, we rode our ponies bareback to Cherry Creek, splashing and playing in the water before racing our ponies down the gravel road back home.
Sound idyllic? It was, until one day Jodie turned on me. She was often moody, with a vicious temper - on a few occasions, she beat her own horse in a fit of rage - but she was also fun, and when she wanted to be, charming in a way that made you feel like the most special person in the room. I accepted her flaws. But more and more, Jodie turned her rage onto me.
It started with mean remarks; comments about how I looked, how I rode, and - the worst - mean comments about my beautiful pony. She was cruel to poor Sparkle and would stroke her on the spot of her flank that Sparkle hated to be touched, while Sparkle pinned her ears back and kicked out. Sparkle hated Jodie so much that she would try to bite her as she passed by. I should have adapted the same attitude.
Unfortunately, the meaner Jodie got, the more I tried to ingratiate myself with her. I was Gretchen, in Mean Girls. I just wanted it to stop, so that we could go back to having fun. But despite my flattery and and invitations to things, Jodie began to exclude me, to invite other friends for activities, and not me. I was the one who introduced everyone to her, I fumed silently.
Eventually, the bullying carried over to school, where she made my life miserable for the entire year of grade eight. When I dissolved into tears, she laughed in delight. Sometimes she would be nice, and we would go back to being friends, but she always started up again. It was so confusing,
I was tormented, wondering what was wrong with me. Surely, I must be the problem. I wasted years of my life believing I was fundamentally unlikeable. My parents had no idea - at that time they were embroiled in their own difficulties, and I was on my own.
Hours spent riding alone in the woods allowed me to cultivate some self-worth and self-love, to heal the wounds caused by Jodie and others. Intuitively, I sought silence and solitude, which allowed me to get past my ego - the thinking mind - to my soul, that deep and unshakeable part that knows you are worthy of respect.
Finally, I stopped trying to get her to like me, and realized she was no friend. I moved my horse to another place, kept being friends with the girls who were kind to me, and stopped being friends with the ones who followed Jodie’s lead.
We didn’t talk much, after that. When we bumped into each other at horse shows or a class, she was civil. She even made some attempt at being friends again, years later, and while we went on a few trail rides together, too much time had passed. The rift was too huge; the resentment still there. I wanted an acknowledgement, some recognition of the hurt and pain she had caused me. She pretended it had never happened.
It was wrong of Jodie to bully me, but the reason she succeeded is that I began to believe the things she said about me.
Now I have learned the way other people behave is a reflection of themselves, and has nothing to do with you. Jodie was a deeply unhappy person, who experienced racism as a half-indigenous person. Jodie suffered from intergenerational trauma, and lashed out at others to try to make herself feel better. Hurt people hurt people. It doesn’t excuse her behaviour, but it helps to understand it.
“Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim. (Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.)”
I wish I had known the problem was 100% with Jodie, and not with me. I wish I had never for a second thought I was too sensitive, too tall, too gawky, too kind, too imaginative, too much of an animal lover, too smart, too much of all the things about me she found so triggering. Instead of trying to hide my insecurities, to make myself smaller, in the hopes that she would like me again, I wish I had owned all my amazing qualities.
But eventually, I did.
fin.
