I was called “very brave,” but not for the right reasons - or by the right person.

I quit a grooming job last week. On a Thursday of a show week. At 7:30 am.

I really needed the job.

And the money.

There were red flags I ignored, even before I started. Warnings from friends.  “It’s just gossip,” I told myself.  “People with high standards intimidate people. I’m not afraid of high standards.”

From the first day, there was whispered private encouragement and advice to me how to handle the toxic moods, foul language, instructions that were ever-changing and anger anger anger.

The weirdness about phones, which I realized probably wasn’t about productivity, but seemed more and more every day to be about paranoia about recording devices.

The multiple chuckled declarations “you won’t like working for me” and bragging that a previous employee “tried to SafeSport me last year.” Said with laughter, but landed like threats, not jokes.

I needed the job. I told myself, as I sobbed in the horse show washroom, twice in 24 hours. Those stupid tile bathrooms that amplify every crying hiccup.

I told myself that I would take the verbal abuse to pay my bills. Like many grooms, I know I am excellent at my job. I would stick it out. I needed the job and the horses needed loving care.

I was afraid to eat. I was afraid to use the washroom. Once, when I tried to eat, I was told there were too many things to do.

The morning I quit, I witnessed blatant horse abuse. Not discipline. Reactive, angry, senseless abuse.

I waited until I was alone at the stalls, grabbed my bag, sent a text I dreaded, including that I would not be invoicing for the previous 2 days I was owed.

I will never take a nickel from someone who abuses animals.

As I drove away, shaking, I understood how it is terrifying for people to leave abusive partners, not knowing how they would react and expecting vicious texts or calls.

The text came two days later, when someone told them I was on the showgrounds: That I was “very brave” to be there and to stay away from their stalls and horses. A bizarre threat coming from someone who shouldn’t be allowed guardianship over any animal.

Just know, if you ever abuse a horse in front of me, I don’t care if you are a big R, little r, or have a big name. For me, you are the absolute rock bottom of what this industry has to offer the world.  

I don’t care how many decades of sycophants surround you or how many viral articles you write. I know who you truly are when your words aren’t filtered through a magazine editor.

I don’t care how many championships hang from your horse’s bridle, I have seen that animal’s face express terror when you rush in the stall in anger. And I have seen that horse’s face when it recieves abuse at your hand.

I don’t care about the opinions of those who know I left and judge me for being unprofessional.  I did worry that morning. But now I judge you for looking the other way.

One of the biggest problems for humans and animals in the sport is when people believe they NEED the abusive trainers.

We don’t.

We need them gone.

I shouldn’t have left the showgrounds. They should.