Chief, a three year old, stud horse, with a yellow mane and tail, with white and tan painted across it’s body, had been led to me; a saddle placed next to him and told to get ready to ride. It was sun-up, me, my father and three other folks were off to assist with tagging the ears of the new calves that were born and move a large herd of cattle through a cattle gap into another pasture, with freshly grown grass.
As we trotted off toward the cow pasture, the saddle and myself began to slip slowly down sideways on the back of the horse. By the time we had made it over to the gate, I was plum turned upside-down to the belly of the horse! My father told another one of the people to help me get my saddle turned around and cinched tighter, while he opened the gates to let everyone through. The adults had successfully gotten the calves tagged, while I just tagged along for the horseback ride. When we started to round up the cattle to drive them all through the gap into the next grassy field, my father asked me to wait under the only tree around, while they did the dangerous work. The tree, was a large cedar, near the center of the field, with many low lying branches. Chief and I waited there and I hung my arm on one of the limbs just above my head. The cows began to come toward the tree and Chief began to get nervous. I was attempting to “whoa” and calm the animal when the branch my arm was on, snapped loudly, hit the beasts’ rear-end! Chief did only what he knew to do which was panic! With a big rear up on his back legs and a sliding motion sent me flying off! After I landed, I quickly scurried up the cedar, the cows were still running straight for the tree, because it was the only shelter! Once the grown ups realized my stead had dumped me and ran off, one of them safely captured his lead and returned the runaway to me. The worst part about the whole ordeal, is I landed in cow poop when he bucked me off! I’m sure having a small child tag along didn’t make the work any easier. However, during the summers, I spent my time accompanying my father to work. My father did a variety of jobs when I was growing up; to include truck driving, pipe-fitting, welding, crop farming, hog farming, and catfish farming. If anyone knows my father, they know he’s a crazy coon-ass, but a hard worker and quite strict. But all the outdoor time, made it very therapeutic. Peanut, my childhood horse, was given to me by our family friend Wally. Peanut and I were inseparable. Learning to care for horses was a large portion of my younger years. In the afternoons, when I would return from school, the first thing I would do would be to change into my “barn clothes” to go out and spend time with Peanut. The two of us would explore the woods, the creeks, the dirt roads and the countryside together. He was probably my favorite friend. I could ride with Peanut leading me around with no reigns. The level of trust between the two of us, was strong. I would lie down on his back in the saddle, let him guide us down the paths we were so accustomed to traveling together. Often a ride would last for hours, until almost dark. Once we had finished our afternoon adventure, Peanut and I would wash up, get a treat and it was time for feeding, for us all. Homework always came last, after I got to unwind from a long day at school, with my best friend, Peanut. With Peanut, I felt free to be me, to express myself without worry of judgement. I could talk with him and he would only be a listening ear. I would never be turned down for a hug. The smell of the sweat, the sound of the hooves clip-clopping on the ground, the feeling of being in a saddle became my comfort and my solace. I could just be me. Growing up in the country allowed me many benefits some children only dream of, however, it left me quite isolated, with time to contemplate life and myself. I knew from a young age, my mind worked more like a male. I would write about it in my journal, talk to my best horse friend and even try to explain it to others. I would say things like “my brain is like the brain of a dude” or “my head works like a guys”. But never really connecting the dots on being transgender. Labelled as a “tom-boy” just didn’t feel all the way right. What did feel right, was being on the back of my horse, pretending I was a cowboy of the wild west, wrangling cattle and driving the masses westward!
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Authors:James and Katherine are a transgender couple raising two kids. They were southerners when coming to understand themselves as trans. Ultimately it lead to a nearly three year road trip to find home. Now they are re-housed and still focused on outreach in the transgender community! Archives
October 2020
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