The Cowgirl Project-Violet Wilson
Violet Wilson aboard a confident looking pony. I grew up riding a strong willed pony so this photo absolutely sang to me.
Terrebonne, Oregon, United States
@Violetsleatherco
Her dad was a ranch-hand cowboy, and she and her four sisters were right there with him — breaking horses, working cattle, learning by doing. Not as a performance. Not as a hobby. Just as life.
In 2021, she was in a car accident that left her with an incomplete spinal cord injury. The kind of sentence that could easily have rewritten everything and even make a person quit. She had to relearn how to walk, balance, and trust her body in ways most of us never have to think about.
But even in the middle of that, she knew one thing clearly: she was getting back on a horse.
Violet and her girl gang
Four months later she was helping gather and load trucks.
There’s a steadiness in her story that feels familiar to me. A quiet decision that this isn’t where I stop.
She says being a cowgirl means having a never-quit attitude. Tough enough to work right beside the men and gentle enough to raise their babies. She learned from her dad, yes, but also from her grandma and her sister Ruby. We are shaped by the women who stand beside us. We borrow courage from each other. We learn by watching. We carry what they hand down.
Violet still ropes. She still rides. She doesn’t cowboy the way she once did because her injury won’t hold up to it. But she says she feels most like herself on horseback. And what really struck a cord in me was when she said:
Being a cowgirl never leaves you. Especially not the mindset.
The original sketch on canvas in Burnt Sienna of “Head Hauncho”
When I decided to leave my marriage and the farm, I felt my identity shift in ways I wasn’t prepared for. I felt like I was giving up a part of my identity and it caused me to question everything — even my right to tell cowgirl stories. I remember thinking, Who am I to paint this life if mine doesn’t look like it used to? Who am I to claim the title cowgirl if I’m not standing in the same field anymore?
It’s strange how quickly we can feel like imposters in our own skin.
But time has a way of clarifying what’s surface and what’s bone-deep. My circumstances changed. My address changed. The structure of my days changed. But the values that shaped me didn’t. The grit. The loyalty. The willingness to show up even when it’s hard. The instinct to build community instead of tearing it down.
That mindset didn’t leave.
Putting in the final highlights of “Head Hauncho”
That’s why Violet’s story matters so much to me. Because this project has never been about who can rope the fastest or ride the hardest. It’s about honouring women who endure, who adapt, who love this life in whatever form they’re able to hold it . It’s about making sure the stories of women like her — and the women who taught her — aren’t lost between the lines of history .
Violet’s body changed. My life changed. The shape of our days is different than it once was.
But neither of us stopped being who we are.
There’s something powerful about realizing that cowgirl isn’t a role you lose when circumstances shift. It’s a way of moving through the world. It’s resilience. It’s tenderness. It’s getting back in the saddle — literally or metaphorically — because something in you refuses to be finished.
And I think there are more women who need to hear that.
Initial layout for Violet and her girl gang
You don’t have to be actively cowboying to carry the spirit of it. You don’t have to live in the same house or work the same land forever. You don’t have to prove yourself daily to keep the title.
Sometimes being a cowgirl is simply deciding that what shaped you still belongs to you.
Violet reminds me of that.
And maybe she’ll remind you too.