When we were working cows together and things started to go sideways, my Dad would go to cussing everything in sightâthe dogs, the cows, us kids, my Mom, the rocks, the gate, the pick-up and the morning sunrise itself. His favorite turn of phrase was âI have never seen anything like it in my whole life. Worthless sons of guns!â Well, it was kind of like that except unedited and from the volume of a military drill Sergeant, which he was once. No matter what form of unflattering nonsense that came out of him or anyone else in the corral, I could keep working, keep trying. Every time I was called worthless, I tried harder. If I was told I couldnât do it or that I wasnât worth my salt, I would dig a little deeper and find a way to prove them wrong. I was and I am tough, dirty tough, surprisingly tough. At the end of those long days, after everything had gotten done after all, I was complimented for being such a tough kid and hanging in there.
I have leaned into that characteristic a lot in my life. I am calm under pressure and can really take a verbal beating. I will get the job done no matter what is thrown my way from the weather, equipment failures or worthless son of guns. I am tough but until I learned the value of quitting, I was not brave. If I had been brave, I would have cried, admitted I was scared and needed more instructions to be helpful in the corrals when my Dad was swearing at the sun.
Only being tough, without being vulnerable and honest got me into a lot of sticky situations in my life. Relationships that were cruel but tolerable, jobs that were paying less and asking for more, onto the backs of horses that were counterfeit & dangerous all because I was tough enough to handle it and not brave enough to quit it.
I donât mean that I wish I would have given up more often or that I intend to in the future. What I mean is that when I walk with a rock in my boot, I want to stop and take it out before I keep hiking. What I mean is that I want to take on the work of caring for animals, kids and the land with my heart and guts. What I mean is that what I hope for myself is also what I hope for my children and for all of you Women in Ranching. Be tough and soft and bold and methodical and curious and kind and scared. By being brave for ourselves and each other, we wonât always have to be so darn tough.