10/24/2026
It does matter to be visibly and vocally affirming.
“I don’t see why it matters. Nobody cares about that.”
This response, and so many others like it, floods equestrian spaces every time someone posts looking for an LGBTQIA+ friendly barn, trainer, farrier, vet, or other professional.
Someone discloses something vulnerable about themselves because they’re trying to find safety and community, and instead of simply answering the question, they’re met with dismissal.
“We just love horses. Leave that other stuff out of it.”
I hate to break it to you, but this attitude is exactly why people are asking the question in the first place. And frankly, it may be part of why people don’t feel comfortable at your barn—or around you.
People love to say that someone’s identity or orientation “doesn’t matter,” as though acknowledging it somehow distracts from the horses. But more often than not, what they actually mean is, “I don’t want to hear about it.”
It reminds me a lot of the “I don’t see color” argument. Of course you do. Recognizing that someone has an identity and experiences different from your own isn’t the problem. Pretending those differences don’t exist so you never have to think about how they affect that person isn’t acceptance.
Being trans is part of my identity and a huge part of my story. If I removed it from conversation because it supposedly “doesn’t matter,” there would be a giant chunk of my life I simply couldn’t talk about. I transitioned at 24. Am I supposed to pretend the first 24 years of my life didn’t happen? Or never mention the experiences that shaped literally everything that came afterward?
And “LGBTQIA+ friendly” doesn’t mean we need the barn covered in rainbow flags or every conversation to revolve around identity. It means a q***r person can casually mention their spouse or partner the same way a straight person can. It means someone can correct a pronoun without becoming the barn problem. It means q***r kids can talk about their lives the same way straight kids do. It means jokes, slurs, harassment, and intentional disrespect aren’t brushed off because someone “didn’t mean anything by it.”
Most importantly, it means the people running the facility have created a culture where we know we are safe.
Because for trans people especially, safety is not hypothetical. Trans people experience disproportionately high rates of harassment and violence. So when someone asks whether a barn is LGBTQIA+ friendly, they may quite literally be trying to figure out whether it is safe to put themselves in a relatively isolated environment with people they don’t know.
You might know that you would never hurt them. Great. They don’t know that.
And beyond that, what kind of culture do you allow around you? If someone makes a transphobic joke in the tack room, what happens? If a client repeatedly misgenders someone intentionally, does anyone step in? If another boarder starts making comments about someone’s marriage, body, transition, or healthcare, is that person expected to “ignore it and focus on the horses”?
A barn can be unsafe without the owner ever personally threatening anyone. Sometimes all it takes is leadership making it very clear that they’d rather avoid an uncomfortable conversation than protect the person being targeted.
And this is exactly why the culture we’re building at our barn matters so much to me.
We’re building a space where people don’t have to leave pieces of themselves in the car before they walk into the barn. Where being welcoming isn't just saying, “We don’t care what you are.” It’s actively creating an environment where people know disrespect won’t be tolerated and that the people in charge will actually stand behind them.
I’ve had people reach out wanting to come to our barn specifically because of this. Not because we have the fanciest facility, the biggest program, or the most impressive amenities. They reached out because they knew who I was, what I stood for, and what kind of environment I was trying to create—and that made them feel like this might be a place where they could finally exhale a little.
That matters to me enormously.
Because horses are supposed to be the thing that brings us together. People shouldn’t have to wonder whether pursuing something they love means putting themselves somewhere they aren’t respected or safe.
So, horse people, the next time someone posts in a group looking specifically for an LGBTQIA+ friendly barn, trainer, vet, farrier, or community, use your brain a little more before commenting, “Why does that matter?”
They already know why it matters.
They’re asking because they need to know whether you do.
