05/11/2025
I would pull some quotes from this post but too much of it is just completely accurate that it's futile to try and pull out the most important lines. They're all important. And some of it might resonate differently for different people. So be sure to read it all. I don't need to tour a racetrack to know that most of the staff truly love the horses and believe with their whole being that the horses are well cared for. Because there's a gap in almost every child's education on equine body language and what it means. I was that child, I worked with those racehorses and I loved the f**k out of them. There's still old posts of me defending racing with my whole chest and I'm not deleting them. It happened, that's how I felt a decade ago. Now I know better. I respect everyone who can learn new information and change their opinion on something, because it's not easy to realise a belief you held so strongly wasn't correct. Let horse racing be one of those somethings.
I was recently invited to the racetrack and offered a tour. I went because I didnât want to just be angry from a distance. I wanted to understand. I didnât want to dismiss something without seeing it for myself.
What I saw was complicated.
Many of the people there truly believe theyâre doing whatâs best for their horses. But good intentions donât erase harm. You can love a horse and still be part of something that hurts them. Thatâs what makes this so difficult to confront, and so important to name.
I also saw stress, fatigue, fear and behaviours that told a very different story from the one people handling them believed.
Many genuinely saw tension or restlessness as excitement.
They didnât recognize the signs of discomfort, not because they didnât care, but because no one ever taught them to see it differently.
You walk through the racing spaces and see walls covered in photos, horses mid-stride, nostrils flared, eyes wide. And once you know what to look for, you canât unsee it. You can match almost every image to a pain ethogram, and they would score.
When pain expressions are framed and celebrated as proof of achievement, it shows how deeply this culture has learned to see discomfort as success.
A system that hangs discomfort on the wall as a trophy is a system that cannot recognize harm even when itâs right in front of it. And weâre asking the people inside that system to open their eyes to something theyâve been taught to look away from for generations.
Thatâs why asking for change feels almost impossible.
Thereâs nothing ethical about breeding thousands of horses each year when so many already stand in kill pens and auction lines. Thereâs nothing ethical about glamorizing an industry where catastrophic injuries are treated as inevitable.
Because this isnât just about the horses. Itâs about people, people who have built their lives, livelihood, their identities, their sense of worth around this world. Admitting harm means questioning everything theyâve ever known.
The sport itself, the way it exists today, is built on the suffering of horses.
And it cannot be saved when the people inside it canât see the damage being done. When suggestions for change are dismissed as outsider opinions, nothing moves forward. Itâs impossible to heal a system when everyone within it believes itâs fine.
Cognitive dissonance keeps it alive.
Itâs easier to defend cruelty than to admit youâve been complicit in it.
And thatâs why change is so hard. Because it asks people to unlearn everything theyâve been rewarded for believing. But this is exactly why naming harm matters and why recognizing stress behaviours and pain expressions matters.
Why we have to keep showing and discussig what others refuse to see.
Because every time someone learns to spot a pain face, or notices tension for what it really is,
a crack forms in the wall of denial that keeps this system standing. And cracks spread.
SO WE KEEP NAMING IT.
We keep pointing to it, even when it seems to fall on deaf ears, because it only takes one person willing to look in the mirror to start change from within.
We keep having these conversations with hope that people begin to see what we see. Because once you do, you canât unsee it.