It’s back!! All through the month of July, we are running our annual Dressage For Every Body campaign on YourDressage, and we’re teaming up with our friends at SmartPak again to offer some incredible prizes for our readers and writers!
Each year that we’ve run this campaign, we’ve used it to highlight size inclusivity in dressage, and to give a voice to those who have felt like they don’t fit the stereotypical image of a rider. We’ve featured stories of resilience, courage, kindness, and confidence, and we want to continue encouraging and inspiring riders of all sizes, because #EveryBodyIsADressageBody.
We recently asked riders who consider themselves plus-size or were plus-size at one time to share their stories and be featured in our Dressage For Every Body galleries, with a chance to win some awesome prizes!
Here, a plus-size and nonbinary rider tells us about their riding journey and partnership with a draft-cross, who shares the struggle of finding off-the-rack tack.
By Rowan Larson
Ramsey is an approximately eight-year-old, 1700-pound, 17.1-hand Amish Warmblood. That is to say, he’s a grade Shire/Friesian cross who came into my life three years ago, as a (probably) five-year-old from CM Farms in Gap, Pennsylvania, in 2022.
As an adult amateur entering my fourth decade, I was looking for a horse with a good temperament and brain to be the first horse of my very own. I know I don’t bounce the same way I did when I was regularly flung off of off-track Thoroughbreds in my teens and early 20s, so I wanted a horse who looked like he might have talent for dressage and the ability to keep his brain in his body at all times. Ramsey checked both of those boxes when I met him, and I fell in love immediately.
When I say “might have talent,” I mean that it was a best guess at the time—he couldn’t quite canter, and he trotted like a carriage horse; the former because he was still growing, didn’t know where all his legs were, and couldn’t organize them for anything less than a hand gallop; the latter because he was also broke to drive.
Our greatest accomplishment is building a strong enough partnership that when I tell Ramsey something is okay, or possible for him to do, he believes me. A former trainer of mine, back in Massachusetts, used to tell me that the best thing I can do as a rider is always tell the truth to my horse, so I try my hardest to always be honest with Ramsey.
When we moved to Montana in early 2024, Ramsey was done growing and started to really learn where his legs were and how to use his body. The progress we’ve made in the last year and a half is pretty incredible—we went from cementing our Training Level basics, to now schooling all of Second Level and the beginnings of Third.
In my life out of the saddle, I’m an Episcopal priest, and Ramsey is a huge part of why I’m able to do my job. He’s a patient therapist who knows when I’m overwhelmed and anxious, and takes care of me. As long as there are some carrots in it for him, he’ll let me hug his neck and fuss over him for as long as I like. Knowing that there’s a creature in this world who doesn’t want anything from me (except, perhaps, a cookie) is so important to me.
I’m not your average dressage rider in a few ways. Besides being a tall, plus-sized rider, I’m non-binary and trans. Finding boots that fit my calves has been a trial for years, as there doesn’t seem to be anything off the shelf that will fit, but finding a show coat that fits my body after top surgery is even harder. While I’d love to buy custom boots and coats, we only have two recognized shows a year here in Montana, and priesthood is not known for being a career that one goes into for wealth. It makes me feel a bit better that Ramsey is too large for a lot of off-the-shelf tack and accessories as well—there is a single ear bonnet on the market that fits him.
On the plus side, Montana has a pretty inclusive dressage scene. There are many breeds represented in the discipline here, not just the warmbloods of the East Coast, who we always stood out from, and a good number of riders who don’t fit the mold, just as I don’t.
I would love to see SafeSport expanded to include bullying based on weight, sexuality, and gender. I often hear or read comments that say, “I’m just here for the horses; keep your politics out of dressage.” I think that’s a kind of bullying. It’s saying that I, as a person, am not welcome. My weight, my gender, and my sexuality are part of who I am as a person and as an equestrian, not something I am just to somehow spite people or make them uncomfortable.
I’m grateful for the way that the USDF is shining a light on riders who break the mold in fabulous ways and helping others who feel like they don’t fit in, know that they are not alone.
