The Equestrian Family That Never Cleans Up

​In the wonderful world of equestrian sports, the word "family" is the strongest adhesive we have. It is a magical term. It is as universally applicable as duct tape: it holds stall doors together, it masks a horse’s suffering, and - most importantly - it ensures that no one gets an idea what is really going on in this family.

​A Nest of Harmony and Bunions

​In our "family," a climate of absolute security prevails. The mother of the family loves her little sheep so much that she views any form of criticism as an act of treason against the bloodline. "One does not wash one's dirty laundry in public," they say, while tucking the carpet over the mountain of problems in the corner of the stable. The great thing about a family is: you don’t have to clean up. When someone in a professional company misuses inventory or manipulates employees, it’s called a "compliance violation." In the family, we call it "character building." 

Here, the unofficial law of the clan applies: those in the inner circle enjoy protection. There is lying, there is white-washing the truth, and there is looking the other way when one of the "family members" steps out of line simply because you stick together. It is a parallel world where "we" takes precedence over "right." You don’t cheat out of greed, but out of a twisted loyalty that automatically turns anyone outside the clan into an enemy or a "nest-fouler."

​The horse occupies a very specific role in this family structure: it is the unloved stepchild that must function. If the "result" isn't right, there is no error analysis, just a simple "tightening of the training." More pressure, sharper equipment. The correction is always made at the end of the leash, never at the beginning.

​The Industry’s "Broom Phobia"

​It is truly astonishing: we have people in this scene who clean their stables with an accuracy that rivals operating theaters. Everything shines, every straw lies in a geometrically perfect line. But as soon as it comes to moral hygiene, the broom is suddenly nowhere to be found. No one sweeps through when it comes to the emotional climate. No one cleans out the stable when, behind the veil of hairspray and glitter polish, the vitality of the horses is systematically stifled.

"It’s just love!" cry the uncles and aunts, sipping on their champagne. "We just want you to be successful! We love our horses."

Or perhaps we are simply blind. Blinded by a twisted, unhealthy love for the horse, our stepchild.

​Success is the Only Family Member That Counts

​In this family, success is the only child that is truly loved. And this child is quite demanding. It enjoys devouring integrity, a bit of dignity, and every now and then, the entire backbone. The silence in the stables is not a sign of peace. It is the sound of people who have learned that the broom you could use to clean up is too dangerous, because you might hit someone who pays for the next trophy.

​An Appeal to the Relatives

​Currently, the equestrian world feels like a quarreling extended family. Everyone knows something, no one says anything, and hardly anyone talks to each other. People argue, curse, everyone has a different opinion, and everyone thinks they know better. To their faces, you smile at the secretly hated relatives; behind their backs, you badmouth them for all you’re worth. The victims are the children—the horses. And they have no say. 

If we define "child welfare" in this context, it doesn't just mean physical care, but above all, psychological and physical integrity. Yet in our "family," the well-being of the child is systematically subordinated to the success of the parents. If a child in a private family would be treated the way we treat our horses - with harsher sanctions for mistakes, performance pressure, manipulation and emotional isolation - the social services would have been at the door long ago. In our scene, however, we call it "training" and look the other way so that the facade of the perfect family is maintained.

​Perhaps it is time for us as a "family" to do some spring cleaning. And we don't mean the kind where you just remove the cobwebs from the ceiling. We mean the kind where you break down the doors, turn on the lights, and finally take out the trash that has accumulated behind the high-gloss facades for decades. But as usual in some families, no one feels responsible.

​But you have to be able to endure the question: If we actually dared to do this cleaning - if we radically removed the dust of manipulation, the filth of performance pressure, and the garbage of silent loyalty - what would even be left of this "family"?

​But don't worry: if that gets too exhausting, we can always do what we do best: post a pretty statement on Instagram. With a photo or video of a horse that “looks” happy (even if, according to the protocol, it shouldn't be). Because in a family like ours, the motto still applies: as long as the ribbons shine and the money comes in, the dirt underneath is just decoration anyway.

​And who is taking the trash out now...?

​Editor's Note 1:  Should you feel personally attacked by this text, we would like to assure you: that was a coincidence. Any similarities to living persons, actual stables, or randomly existing moral deficiencies are unintentional. We were merely writing about "the family" and since you surely do not belong to that sort of family, this does not concern you anyway.

​Editor's Note 2: The editorial team expressly distances itself from any attempt to damage the harmonious facade of equestrian sports by demanding integrity, decency, transparency or equestrian welfare. We apologize to everyone whose worldview has been shaken by the mention of…reality. Next time, we will report on glittery equipment and Instagram-ready training videos again, so that appearances can be maintained tomorrow as well.