04/03/2026
I know this has been written about and highlighted already. But this IS the very essence of the book. Surely this time we cannot simply look away.
Charlotte Dujardin footage is back in the press, and however uncomfortable it is, we cannot look away. What makes moments like this difficult is not simply the individual involved; it is what they expose. They force us to pause and consider what we are actually seeing — and perhaps more importantly, what we may have gradually come to accept as normal within equestrian culture.
When we watch a horse showing signs of tension, conflict or confusion and the pressure continues, it can create a quiet sense of unease. That discomfort is important. Not because it tells us immediately who is right or wrong, but because it invites us to examine why we feel unsettled. Instead of dismissing that feeling, or rushing to defend or condemn, we might ask ourselves what the horse is communicating in that moment.
Horses speak constantly through their bodies. Through tightening along the topline. Through a mouth that opens or braces. Through a tail swish that is not decorative but expressive. Through the subtle shift of a nervous system moving from regulation into stress. These signals are not minor details; they are information. And whether at Olympic level, area championships, riding clubs or in a private yard, when those signals are repeatedly overridden, we are no longer in conversation — we are in control.
This is not about condemning a sport. Many of us love equestrian sport and the skill, dedication and partnership it can represent at its best. But it is also true that parts of equestrian culture have normalised pushing beyond what the horse is clearly expressing. When we feel uneasy witnessing that, we should not turn away from the feeling. We should become curious about it. Because horses do not choose medals or rankings, they seek safety, clarity and consistency. When safety is compromised in pursuit of outcome, something essential shifts in the relationship.
For a while now, I have been writing about this tension — about the need to step back to Horse, with a capital H, and giving a voice to the horse. To recognise the horse not as a vehicle for ambition, but as a sentient being whose communication is constant, subtle and honest. Our work at Horserenity CIC, and the book that is growing from it, are rooted in a simple, but often challenging principle: regulation before performance, relationship before result. Skill and excellence matter, but they must be built on a foundation of emotional safety and genuine partnership.
At Kites Farm, our horses live at liberty and have choice in their interactions. If something does not feel right, they step away — and we pay attention. That is not a disruption to the work; it is the work. It is information about how the interaction is being experienced. Welfare is not just about feeding regimes or veterinary checks., it includes emotional experience, the state of the nervous system, and whether the horse feels safe within the relationship.
The headlines this week are uncomfortable, and perhaps they should be. Not so that we can react loudly or divide into camps, but so that we can look more closely at what we are seeing and at the standards we are willing to uphold. The horse has always been communicating. The question is whether we are prepared to remain present long enough — and humble enough — to truly listen.
