Much of the discourse on people with disabilities focuses on accessibility, inclusion and exclusion. However, for those who participate in para-sport this discussion remains largely focused on the sports themselves rather than the associated struggles and triumphs.
To this day, para-equestrian and even able-bodied equestrian is not given the attention it deserves for its inclusive sporting and therapeutic environment.
Every four years the Paralympics roles around and the faces of Dylan Alcott and Kurt Furnley flash against our screens. Two strong, athletic, intelligent and charismatic men who indeed deserve much of the praise they have received.
Occasionally these talented men are given platforms for advocacy by the media.
However there is little known about other para-sports, particularly the only sport, para or able-bodied in which men and women compete against each other. Riders compete against people with differing disabilities, rather than being restricted to one particular ability prism.
Para riders are separated into grades I-V according to varying levels of physical functionality associated with their disability. However riders of all different disabilities are included within these grades.
People with disabilities are often excluded from mainstream sport, and even accessing para-sport is a turbulent journey.
For some, gaining para qualification is a relatively simple road, their disabilities representing a ‘black and white’ view of ability and disability. For others, that line is far fainter and the quest to compete in para leaves individuals feeling overwhelmed and often sidelined from para qualification altogether.
These individuals, whilst having real, life-altering disabilities are excluded from reaching the likes of Alcott or Furnley, or para-equestrians Emma Booth or Noella Angel.
I have low vision and mobility issues impacting my balance. I also ride in para and para-dressage. At present I am attempting to gain para qualification.
As para-riders our stories may be different but our struggles and passion remain united.
#WeRide
Noella Angel began riding as a toddler on her pony Echo, however when diagnosed with a congenital Vascular Malformation impacting her right leg at the age of five, Angel hung up her helmet for 7 years.
Noella walks towards me, half crutches on either side of her, awkward yet also certain. She is tall, her long, blond hair giving off that distinct country feel (that tousled, I live with my horses look). She talks with a distinctly Australian accent, and offers to buy us both coffee. She is strong-looking, built like nothing could get in her way.
She has an intimidating yet kind face, although I am unsure if this observation is because of her kickass personality or having recently watched her compete at the National Para-Equestrian Championships. We talked for hours, the struggles and triumphs of para-equestrian empowering me with every word. She is confident and animated in her answers to questions, getting worked up on issues of particular importance or frustration.
Jessie Smith too began riding as a young child. In 2013 she was diagnosed with Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy in her right leg, later spreading in 2014 to her spine, hip, right wrist and leg. She continued to ride able-bodied 6 months post diagnosis, however the onset of this disease led her to retrain to para.
Jessie wheels up to the lounge I am seated at, her long, red hair flying past her as her wheelchair moves along the floor. She is petite and looks younger than I remembered seeing her in photos. Her smile is infectious, the type that has glistening white teeth. She has freckles dotting the pale canvas of her oval face and pointy chin. When she speaks there is a slight British accent, the result I’m told, of English parents who immigrated some years ago. She is quietly spoken, and does not provide extended answers to questions, each one succinct and measured.
Like Noella and Jessie my disability is unusual.
I was not born with low vision, however I was born with aqueduct stenosis, causing hydrocephalus requiring the use of a VP shunt to drain cerebral spinal fluid from my brain into my peritoneal cavity.
At the age of six this shunt blocked severely, causing a traumatic brain injury, permanently destroying brain cells within the visual cortex. The result of this was a left homonymous hemianopia, leaving me with no vision in the left half of both eyes and partial blindness in the right half., mobility and short-term memory issues.
I started riding at the age of nine.
However it was not until recently that I have perceived para as a means to further my equestrian dreams.
The divide between how someone with a disability functions on and off a horse is a perplexing and wonderful demonstration of how equestrian evens the playing field. The horse has the ability to compensate for a riders physical limitations.
When Noella returned to riding she went into para thinking she “wasn’t disabled enough”, a sentiment that unfortunately due to the bureaucratic tape associated with gaining classification, is the case for many would-be para-equestrians.
Jessie continued to ride able-bodied for six months post-diagnosis. Now as a result of the degeneration of her condition, she has shifted to competing with exemptions. The complexity of her condition means she is unable to gain para-classification.
The systemic issues with gaining para-classification is indicative of the broader social issues surrounding how people without lived experience of disability dictate the experiences of those who do.
Smith says that “The world is not accessible”, and the challenges associated with gaining classification as a para-rider often leave riders feeling as though their abilities matter less purely because of their disabilities.
A part of this lack of accessibility is tied to how society views people with disabilities as less capable and less deserving.
Even when utilising the everyday aids to navigate the world, people with disabilities are often made to feel that doing so is defeatist. The ableist belief that accepting mobility aids means you are no longer striving to be more can be overwhelming.
Angel says she fought the need to use a wheelchair, feeling she was “giving into” her disability. She also uses a robotic vacuum cleaner and lawn mower.
This year will also mark another shift in her disability, as she prepares for the amputation of her leg.
For Smith, she says that in accepting that she required the use of a wheelchair, she learned to ‘want’ it as well. Those around her thought she “was going to resign” to her illness.
But as many people with disabilities are aware, resignation just isn’t an option in a world where it is expected of you.
When Smith was diagnosed at 14, she remembers her parents trying to shield her from its severity. What she remembers being told was her condition would mean she would “end up in a wheelchair” and treatment options were limited.
Despite losing my vision at 6, I did not accept that I needed a white cane until I was 14. I used to walk into people or fall over, not realising that it was due to my visual and mobility issues. I did not go out alone and always held onto my Mother when somewhere unknown. Prior to this I too felt like I was not “disabled enough” and that having fought to be considered equal to my peers I was as Angel says “giving into” my disability. This kind of judgement is well known amongst people with visible disabilities.
We have to be twice as good, otherwise we meet your expectation of mediocracy. And that isn’t an option.
Angel says she has “had to work five times harder” to get to where she is, a sentiment echoed by Smith who has lamented that “life isn’t fair”.
We know it often isn’t a conscious attitude by people without disabilities, but we know it exists.
For para-equestrians, and para-athletes alike, individuals have reiterated how being ‘pushed into the deep end’ during the early stages of our disabilities has meant that “we’re a lot stronger”.
But it’s the feeling of a horse between the rider and the sky, the feeling of the horse taking on a para rider’s lost senses that makes the most difference.
My vision loss means I use a long cane when I walk around. I can’t see anything out of the left half of both eyes, some missing also on the right.
When I am on a horse, the horse is my eyes and I am no longer nervous when moving.
But unlike other para sports like wheelchair basketball, tennis or swimming, Angel notes that for equestrians and para-equestrians in particular, “It’s the only sport where if our equipment (which is our horse) is out, we’re out”. It is complex to train a horse to be quiet and responsive enough for para. As a result of this the quest of ‘finding the right horse’ is significantly harder for para than non-para riders.
A para-equestrian’s horse, unlike a wheelchair, cane or mobility assistance used by para-athletes is not something that can be easily replaced. There is a saying in equestrian that when you find the perfect horse they are a unicorn. For para riders finding this unicorn is even harder and important.
Para-equestrian is a symbiotic existence where rider and horse become almost inseparable. The horse becomes the riders legs, their eyes, their chariot, their confidant, their therapist.
Where in political and public discourse about disability, particularly the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS), access to mobility aids has been a serious issue. Some find it more complex than others to gain the assistance they need.
For Jessie, she says the scheme “doesn’t want to touch” her, despite the ongoing and regressive nature of her disability.
However, for Noella, who has managed to gain access to the scheme, the NDIS, has had a largely positive impact on her life including allowing her to financially reimburse grooms who assist with handling her horse. Particularly, the ability to reimburse grooms has meant she no longer has to feel guilty for taking up their time.
Despite the successes many para-equestrians have in the saddle, many still require aids to assist them from mounting up, to balance, movement and control. Whilst once on the horse a para-rider may often appear to ride much like an able-bodied rider there are many aids and alternative riding methods that go into leveling this playing field.
Jessie and her coach have trained her horses to respond to the use of two whips placed on either side of her legs to replicate the motions her legs would create. Due to her limited lower body function, her stirrups are attached to her girth and her foot is then attached to the stirrups. She uses velcro straps to secure herself into the saddle along with knee and thigh blocks in the saddle to keep her secure. These aids are common for para riders with mobility issues, something even I as a rider with low vision have come to use to improve my balance in the saddle. The feeling of security in the saddle is even more important for para riders than able-bodied riders as it is not only safer but also provides a more harmonious physical relationship between rider and horse.
Despite her disability, Jessie has been unable to be classified to ride in para-equestrian. She instead is permitted exemptions to use two whips and her leg straps.
When riding, Noella uses a customised adaptable saddle. The saddle includes knee pads, velcro straps and knee blocks to keep her in place. The velcro straps are placed around the knee blocks and the underneath of the saddle and around the riders thighs. She rides using two whips on either side, each enacting the light pressure that her legs would have. However when competing she is only permitted one whip. It took her four years to be approved by Equestrian Australia to ride with elastic and leather stirrups to keep her feet in place. But for Noella, it really is her horse that is the biggest help to her emotionally and physically. She says “they can complete a whole human”, something echoed by para rides across the world, including myself.
Noella has risen to compete at a national level, classified as a Grade V recently completing her freestyle at the National Para-Equestrian Championships at Boneo, Mornington Peninsula. Riding her horse Jackabite, she scored 65.9%, an excellent score whether it be para or able-bodied equestrian. Grade V is the highest ability classification for para with riders permitted to use walk, trot and canter transitions.
For people with disabilities who ride, equestrian isn’t simply a hobby, nor is it merely a sport (let us not forget that equestrian sports for able-bodied riders are renowned for being ‘the sport of kings’). But that is not to say that the love of the sport or the horses is greater for those who ride para. But it is indeed a different relationship experience. The equestrian world is a tight knit community, however for para riders, when the horse is a rider’s legs, eyes, etc. the symbiotic nature of the horse-rider relationship is one of the most powerful you can know. So, the next time you watch the paralympics or any para-sport or sportsperson for that matter, ask why are they being included and ask who is yet to gain a seat at the mainstream table.