Cayla and I were discussing the horses in New York. People were protesting the horse-drawn carriages that carry people around Central Park; they said that it was unethical for the horses to be confined to the sidewalk-laden environment. That the horses should be freed. I said it was stupid for people to be protesting the use of horse-drawn carriages. I said that “horses are tools for humans to use.” I argued that they should, of course, be ethically treated. They should be fed; they shouldn’t be overworked, but ultimately, horses have been utilities for humans to wield for centuries. In my mind, horses are like cattle. They’re to be used for human benefit. Cayla, aghast, quietly whispered, “But they’re horsies.” This struck me as absolutely hilarious. It reminded me of the horse girls that I encountered in elementary school. While her response was comical, it made me think of the disconnect I felt with the animals I was discussing.
Cayla went on to add that they only get to be on sidewalks instead of out in the wild. “They live with these blinders on, so they can only see directly in front of them, so they don’t freak out.” I think the part about the blinders is what got me. Being a city horse and being exposed to city life is unnatural for horses. It’s probably overstimulating for the horses to be so exposed to city life. Having to be limited in sight so you don’t freak out feels wrong. Do horses deserve happiness when they’re bred for utility? Honestly, it would be cruel to say that nothing living deserves happiness. But is there no middle ground where horses can be happy and be useful to humans? Must humans free the horses so they can be happy?
Cayla said that if she were a horse, she would want to be free, and she continued to say that maybe if I were a horse, maybe I would want to be a productive member of horse society (horseity we called it), but that’s not a life she would want to live. After following Cayla around New York, I’ve decided that I would like to free the horses. The city parts around her like it knows her. She navigates swiftly and with purpose in her stride through the storms of tourists. Each step she takes feels like a declaration of her love for her lifestyle. Getting to see her in New York makes me understand why the people want the horses to be freed. There is something unnerving about robbing someone of a place they’re supposed to be. When we’re at school, Cayla often expresses how much she misses home. I can see it in her countenance that she means this in more than just a homesick way. It’s beautiful how she misses New York. It’s her home. It’s so much a part of her that it feels uncanny that she is able to travel anywhere else. She brings New York with her, though. With her walk, the way she speaks, her undeniable uniqueness, and her care for people.
Seeing Cayla in New York gives me hope for what the future can be for me. I want to live in a place that feels natural to me. That makes me feel at home. So maybe I’m a New York horse at the moment, plagued with the constant feeling that I’m in the wrong place. I’ve gotten used to that feeling. But imagine how freeing it would be to leave that behind and finally belong somewhere.
