Monthly Archives: June 2013

EG: How Horses Made Me Red Pill

I’ve been kicking around the idea of writing this post for quite some time, since I’ve been seeing parallels between instructions on how to be Alpha and how I handle the horses when I came here. So, after some very gentle urging from NSR and some further thinking I’ve decided to give it a go. Some of these things are me discovering and accepting more of my feminine side, other parts of it are about me being able to understand the male perspective a bit more.

Horses taught me what it is like to be shit-tested.

I didn’t ride on Sunday, but I did ride today. I don’t normally skip Sundays and Maya was displeased by my skipping out. So, today was a shit-test day. Now, I’ve been riding Maya for six years now, our relationship dynamic is well-established,  so when she does test me it’s nothing major. However, she still tests me. Today when I was riding, she did what she often does when I ask her for more speed. She sticks her nose up in the air, loses rhythm and attempts to speed up. She’s testing to see if I’ll make her do it right or not. I correct her each time she does it and after a few times she doesn’t do it anymore. Which brings me to another point.

I know what it’s like to be consistently given the wrong advice, and screamed at when it doesn’t work.

 That thing Maya does that I was just describing? Maya’s old owner consistently gave me the wrong advice for how to deal with that. If I did what she told me, it made it worse. If I did what I do now, which works, she would yell at me and tell me I was causing the issue. She wasn’t trying to give me bad advice, she was trying to give me sound advice. So there I was, rife with frustration because I was effectively being attacked from both sides. The problem was Maya’s old owner was caught up on a non-existent issue and didn’t understand cause and effect.

Horses taught me about agape love.

Last year, Maya injured her leg. From April until December I went out to the barn every single day. For the first few months I just hosed her leg with cold water, iced her leg, applied medication, wrapped her leg in cotton padding and polo wraps. Then I did all that, then starting with a 5 minute walk and slowly working her up to 60 minutes of continuous walking over the course of several months. I didn’t think anything about the sacrifices of time and money I was making. I love her, so I did it without a second thought. My friends were flabbergasted, especially since I did not own her at the time. I distinctly remember one day, when I stuck my fingers into the gelatinous medication and paused for just a moment. I realized that I must love her, because I wouldn’t be handling this stuff for any other reason. I did not ride Maya for 8 months. While I did enjoy spending the time with her, it wasn’t riding. It was really rough on me and I hated it but, I didn’t want to ride another horse. I wanted to ride Maya.

Horses taught me about how I bond.

Even before Maya was injured I wasn’t fond of the idea of riding other horses. I liked riding just her and I didn’t like anyone else riding her. It didn’t take me much brainpower to figure out that if I had sex with someone that I would be forever attached to that person. This was one of the many reasons I decided not to engage in sexual activity.

Horses taught me what it is to be the dominant partner, and that it isn’t my proper place in a relationship.

You can’t negotiate with horses. You have to draw a line and you can’t back down from it or you will have a dangerous horse on your hands before you can blink. Maya in particular requires a firm and consistent hand. She was neurotic and fearful when I first started riding her, but through patience and consistency I turned her into a fine horse. While it has been rewarding, I have no desire to do anything remotely like that in a relationship with a man. I’m more than happy to surrender leadership to NSR because being the leader is unnatural and exhausting for me.

I know what it is to deal with a non-rational, emotional being.

Maya’s instincts and emotions control her, so I have to control them. It can be a deeply frustrating process, especially since it leaves me no room to get stressed myself. I have to keep an even keel and have the patience of a stone. However, it pays off because she learned that she could trust my leadership. So these days she would walk through Hell for me, as long as Hell contains no running diesel engines.

Caring for horses taught me to appreciate the natural feminine role.

Nothing makes you appreciate staying in the kitchen making breakfast more than waking up at 6am and going out to care for livestock in 22 degree weather. I used to fantasize about dragging a particularly obnoxious feminist I knew out of bed and dragging her to work with me. Tell her, “You want to do men’s work? Here you go”. I particularly relished the possibility of making her handle the haybales and the water, then getting after her for doing it wrong. Or, better yet, hearing her complain even once and suggesting that she could go back to my house and prepare breakfast for me. I will never begrudge a man getting angry at his wife for not having food prepared after he comes home from work. Because the single worst part of all that, was coming home and having to make breakfast or wait for it to be made.

By this same token, I learned the satisfaction of caring for something else and working hard. Horses can’t say thank you, but hearing them munch quietly on their hay was enough. I don’t just take care of Maya when I go out to the barn, I will attend to basic needs of the other horses as well. Empty water bucket? I’ll fill it. Being eaten alive by flies? I’ll take a minute to spritz them with some flyspray and apply it to their nose and ears with a rag. Nurturing and caring comes naturally to me.

I understand what it is to be in the provider role.

I provide Maya with everything she needs, I make sure she is safe and happy. What does she have to do to earn my commitment?

  1. Let me ride her.
  2. Be pretty.
  3. Be pleasant and easy to work with.
  4. Do what I ask of her.
  5. Produce babies*.

Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar at all. [Hi Deti]

So basically, the Red Pill made sense to me when I encountered it.

What’s the takeaway from all this for the average person? Honestly I am not convinced that this is a good route for most women to become Red Pill. However, I would encourage men to learn to ride or at least handle horses if at all possible. Why?

  • It forces you to become more Alpha.
  • It will make you more physically fit.
  • Girls like horses. Think of it as an extension of Danny’s doggy game.
  • It will teach you how to handle an emotional creature.
  • It’s a skill, and can be a useful skill even.

You don’t even have to buy one, you can find a horse rescue to volunteer at or invest in lessons if you are so inclined. If you can’t do that I’d check out the documentary Buck, check out how he acts, not so much with his wife, but with everyone else.

Not to oversell horses here, but horses can change you for the better. You can see proof of that in Buck and in this documentary, Wild Horse Redemption.

*Her old owners decided not to breed her due to her temperament. I’m not breeding her for lack of money, time, and the fact that veterinary medicine hasn’t progressed much past “dry the foal off after it drops, pull it out if it gets stuck”.


EG: The Effect of Fatherlessness

I’m afraid this is just another quick link and run, but I found this:

So just in case you need a reference for why Fatherlessness is such a big issue, there you are.

One of the many money quotes on the page:

While the law allows women to turn casual sex into cash flow sex, Penelope Leach, in her book Children First, poses an essential question: “Why is it socially reprehensible for a man to leave a baby fatherless, but courageous, even admirable, for a woman to have a baby whom she knows will be so?”

EG: Don’t Lie to Your Daughters

One of my friends on facebook has a tendency to use her account for the purpose of reposting things. I mostly ignore this stuff, but then she posted this:

If I ever have a daughter...

This is awful.

I stared in horror, completely flabbergasted by how someone could possibly think that lying to a child like this will spare them any grief.

Let me tell you a quick story. My art teacher and father figure, R, teaches classes for children ages 6 to 18. He sees a lot of kids from a lot of different backgrounds. This particular child was an only child. His entire family loved him and praised everything he did, particularly his art. So he came into the class with a pretty confident opinion of his art. He was around 12. Now, he was not up to his age level when it came to art skills. He was still drawing suns with rays coming from them and such. R has the class do projects, so everyone is working on the same thing, with their own take on it. So, the kid is drawing and one of the younger children, who is about 6, comes up to him. He looks at the older kid’s drawing and says, “You need some shading right here”. The older kid was absolutely shattered. Existential crisis. His parents pulled him from the class shortly afterwards. The parents had done that kid a massive disservice. I have no idea what happened to him and neither does R. What do you bet he never trusted his parents very much after that though?

Lying to your children and sheltering them from the world is not love. It is selfish and cruel. You are not helping them in any way. The truth will out and they will hate you and never trust you again. You can’t control what your child feels, you certainly can’t do it forever.

What does the person who created this intend to do? Sure, they can tell their daughter she is gorgeous all day long. But, how are they going to keep their daughters away from scales? I get weighed every time I go to the doctor. We didn’t have a scale in the house for many years, that didn’t make me less curious about what I weighed. I would step on any scale I saw. I learned how to use one of those old-school scales with the metal weights because the chiropractor had one in the bathroom. Not having a scale in your home will not fix anything.

How are they going to keep their daughters from hearing “fat” and “diet” in their normal usage? Diet doesn’t even always refer to a weight loss regime. Koalas eat a diet of eucalyptus leaves.



1 [dahy-it] Show IPA noun, verb, di·et·ed, di·et·ing, adjective



food and drink considered in terms of its qualities, composition, and its effects on health: Milk is a wholesome article of diet.

If you are going to try and control something, control what your child eats so they don’t get fat in the first place. Teach them good eating habits, teach them to adhere to a healthy diet. That will save them far more grief than turning the words “fat” and “diet” into swear words. They won’t have a bad connotation if you don’t let your daughters get fat.

She will feel the same emotions any human feels, unless she is a sociopath. Does this person want their daughter to be a sociopath? I certainly hope not.

All this will do is turn their daughter into a self important, entitled, unhealthy woman who will spend her entire life unable to get a boyfriend or husband and will have no idea why. Even if she wins the genetic lottery and stays thin, she will still have a deeply unattractive attitude. That and she won’t have any real self-esteem, because she will know internally that the praise is empty and unearned.

If you do this to your daughter, you don’t love her. You hate her.