A Rolling Stone

Refrence photo by Kaitlin Llewellyn @forest.land

Cowgirl: Ann Duce
@kusler_silver_design, @cross_iron_ranch_horses

I used to refuse to use the term cowgirl. To me, it implied pink and ribbons, and somehow that felt less respectable. I wanted to be a cowboy. My family were respected cattle ranchers, but they were not considered horsemen. A little girl wanting to be a cowboy was not exactly welcomed in the area. It seemed you had to be born into it; it was not something you could become. You could marry a cowboy, but you could not become one. That is what I was told growing up.

Fortunately, I had an advantage. I was the son my father never had. It is remarkable what they will teach you, and expect of you, when you are the only option. There were a few strong-willed women in the area who understood that homesteads were not built by men alone and that the world needed more cowgirls. I remember my first rope came from one of those women. I will always be grateful that she placed a rope in my hands and told me we needed more women in the branding pen. To my knowledge, she did not rope and would not have been considered a hand, but she remains one of my favorite cowgirls.

Around that same time, I was instructed to sit in the truck because women should not be in the branding pen. There have been many lessons between that little girl and the woman I am today. Do I consider myself a hand? No. Do I still put on a cowboy hat and wonder whether I have earned that badge of honor? Yes. Can I confidently do any job that needs to be done on the ranch I now own and operate? Absolutely.

I am still often the only woman on the crew, but I have seen more and more women step into their rightful place as capable hands, able to do whatever is required. It makes me proud to call many of them friends. To me, cowgirls are capable women in every part of life—tough, resilient, and deeply loyal. They are among the strongest women I know, and they have always shown kindness to anyone willing to try.