Dona Lee Davis Department of Anthropology University of South Dakota (E-mail: [email protected]) Anita Maurstad Tromsoe University Museum UiT The Arctic University of Norway Sarah Dean Department of Anthropology University of South Dakota

My Horse Is My Therapist: The Medicalization of Pleasure among Women Equestrians Pink t-shirts that proclaim “My horse is my therapist” are for sale in a wide variety of horse-sport catalogues. Literature on the healing power of human–nonhuman animal encounters and the practice of a variety of animal-assisted therapy programs, such as hippotherapy and equine-facilitated therapy, show dramatic growth over the last 30 years. Less attention is paid to the role that horse–human interactions may play in more popular accountings of well-being and impairment among a sample of everyday riders. Analysis of 50 lifecycle narratives, collected from accomplished but nonprofessional equestriennes, demonstrates the complex and ambiguous ways in which women draw from their experience of human–horse relationships as they challenge and transgress the borderlands between pleasure and impairment. Combining the perspectives of multispecies ethnography and medical anthropology that engages the complexities of well-being, analysis is informed by and contributes to recent controversies concerning the medicalization of normality and pleasure in DSM 5. [CAMs, medicalization of pleasure, animal-assisted therapy, DSM 5] Riding makes me happy. It’s one of the times in my life when I can shut everything out and just ride. I don’t have to think about the fact that I’m behind at work or about what I’m going to do after this—the 8,000 errands I have to run. I just stop thinking about everything else and ride. While riding I am unstressed, very relaxed, and at peace with myself. That’s happy. At the barn I am at now there are some like-minded people like me in that their horse is there for psychotherapy. They don’t go for counseling; they go to their horse. They talk to their horse. They love their horse. They are very connected to their horse. —Lynn

MEDICAL ANTHROPOLOGY QUARTERLY, Vol. 00, Issue 0, pp. 1–18, ISSN 0745-5194, C 2014 by the American Anthropological Association. All rights online ISSN 1548-1387.  reserved. DOI: 10.1111/maq.12162

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Lynn’s commentary raises three issues to be examined in this article. First, riding her horse makes her happy. Second, the horse helps her relax as a way of coping with everyday, common-place stresses. Third, she goes to her horse for psychotherapy. Lynn’s narrative shows how themes of pleasure, recreation, and therapy are interwoven rather than differentiated from or contrasted to each other. Like Lynn, informants’ narratives commonly depict horse–human encounters such as riding, grooming, or simply being around horses as pleasure-giving activities that enhance or maintain the human’s sense of well-being in a variety of ways. As researchers, we had anticipated this type of response. What surprised us was the extent to which informants, like Lynn, interlaced themes of horse as therapist and riding as therapy into their rider experience and identity narratives. Humorous T-shirts advertised in a wide variety of equestrian catalogues proclaim “My horse is my therapist,” “Riding is my therapy,” “Who needs therapy when I have horses,” and “Horseback riding is cheaper than therapy” and satirize this kind of horse–human engagement. Informants, like Lynn, however (who would not wear these shirts), are dead serious. Lynn’s narrative introduces topics of anthropological investigation that have yet to see much integration. These are multispecies ethnography, or the study of human–nonhuman animal relations, the medical anthropology of complementary and alternative medicine (CAM), and the pursuit of pleasure. Multispecies ethnography has recently emerged as a field of study that seeks new ways in which to identify and rethink the diverse and complex kinds of relationships that humans form with nonhuman animals (Haraway 2008; Kirksey and Helmreich 2010; Taylor 2011). With a focus on the horse–human relationship, this article draws on two growing bodies of literature in this new field. The first concerns the healing power of human–nonhuman animal encounters (DeMello 2012; Fine and Beck 2010; Knight and Herzog 2009). Most particularly, in this case, are the practices of hippotherapy and equine-facilitated psychotherapy (EFP). The second area of multispecies ethnography relevant to this study includes research on the cognitive ethologies or hybrid nature/cultures of horse–human communities and horse–human partnerships (Argent 2012; Birke 2011; Game 2001). Here we may ask what it is about the horse or horsiness in general that contributes to well-being of the ill AND the well-being of the well. Although pet therapies date back to the 1960s, medical anthropology has yet to show much engagement with what anthrozoologists call animal-assisted therapies (AATs) as practiced in a modern, Western context. When it comes to horses, hippotherapy (therapeutic horse-riding for people with physical or emotional disabilities) and EFP have been put forth as forms of CAMs in the animal therapy literature (Kruger and Serpell 2010). CAMs, in general, have received a great deal of attention among medical anthropologists (Singer and Baer 2012). Riders’ narratives in this study raise some interesting questions about the definition of CAMs as well as the notion of “popular medicine.” Finally, medical anthropology has recently been criticized for regarding “happiness as banal,” being more interested in the abnormal than the normal, and failing to take into account how people enjoy their lives (Thin 2009:25–26). Lynn’s (and others’) interweaving of the therapeutic functions of being with horses with a discourse on impairment and happiness challenges us, as medical anthropologists, (Mathews and Izquierdo 2009) not only to engage pleasure more seriously but to further explore the borderlands between sickness and health (Frances 2013).

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Methods We collected data from qualitative, open-ended interviews administered in 2011 to a volunteer sample of 52 women and eight men 20–70 years of age. Informants are amateur or recreational (as opposed to professional) riders who are life-long participants and who train for or compete in the lower levels of a variety of equestrian sports and activities. These include endurance riding, dressage, and eventing in the midwestern United States and gaited Icelandic horse riding in Arctic Norway. Dressage riders perform a series of prescribed movements, including gait transitions, in a fenced arena. In this sport, participants and judges highly value the appearance of an effort-free rider with a horse willingly performing the requested movements. In eventing, horse and rider perform with stamina and toughness in three disciplines: dressage, show-jumping, and cross-country, the latter being the segment that defines the sport. Endurance riding is traveling long distance on horseback over diverse terrains, where enduring distance, ground, and weather defines both horse and rider. Gaited riding is a particular sport for Icelandic horses and their riders; in addition ¨ (a four-beat gait like to the walk, trot, and canter, the Icelandic horse also does tolt the walk only much faster) and pace. Like the informants of this study, each of us comes from a diverse riding background, place, and age group. We each have our own histories of riding. Anita Maurstad, in her fifties, rides gaited Icelandic horses in north Norway. Dona Lee Davis and Sarah Dean ride in the midwestern United States—Davis, in her sixties, is a dressage and eventing rider, and Dean, in her twenties, has experimented, more recently, with endurance riding. Because of our backgrounds, we were able to start opportunistically recruiting informants from our own riding groups as well as at competitions, clinics, and local barns. We conducted interviews indoors and outdoors, at homes, libraries, riding facilities, and competition venues. Maurstad translated her interviews from Norwegian to English. Reflecting both the dominance of women in the lower levels of equestrian sports and the lack of therapy discourse among the men in our sample, we focus our article on women’s narratives. Although we previously featured a comparison of Norwegian and U.S. midwestern samples in terms of the environments or terrain they ride in, we have combined the two population samples in the analysis that follows (Davis et al. 2013). To protect her anonymity, each informant gave herself a fictional name. We all asked all informants the same general questions. Why do you ride? Tell me about your life as a rider. How does this relate to the kind of person you are? How does riding relate to other aspects of your life? How is your experience the same or different from others? Although sometimes surprised by the questions, informants’ narratives took on an authoritative, experienced-based tone that introduced us (as researchers) to a variety of unanticipated themes. Once transcribed, interviews ranged from 10 to 28 double-spaced pages. No questions specific to therapy were asked, but the therapeutic aspects of riding emerged as a consistent theme throughout a majority of the interviews. Anticipating that our data would bubble from the ground up and reflect culture in talk, our aim was to elicit discourses that both “enact and produce culture” (Quinn 2005:2). With an eye for pattern, detail, and nuance. we conducted a content and thematic analysis of informants’ therapy and therapy-related discourse. Analysis

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reveals the rider’s narrative to be situated in a number of therapeutic domains that are identified and guide the discussion that follows.

Pleasure, Fun, and Joy Analysis starts with pleasure as a dominant theme that flows through all of the narratives.1 Typical responses across all groups of informants to the question “Why do you ride” include mention of some aspect of riding as a pleasurable activity. Words like fun, joy, happy, enjoyment, and pleasure are mentioned at the very beginning of the interviews and are repeated throughout the rest of the narratives. Barbara rather selflessly gets “pure enjoyment out of feeling the horse is happy.” Pleasurable experiences also spill over into other aspects of life. Henriette says, “I ride because it is fun, for recreation. The horse has given my life a new quality.” According to Sally, “Trail riding gives you your own happy world, where you make it a better place for you and your friends.” Riding give Hester “pleasure,” and her horse makes her “life better because he is in it.” In addition to pleasure, our informants describe riding as a way to “relax” (Nell) or to “blow the cobwebs away” (Ajay). To Halla, riding is “a way to reset my body mentally and physically, to keep me fit.” Others employ the positive aspects of riding to deal with everyday moods or negative emotions like “being grumpy” (Lee). Like Lynn, informants also mention riding for therapy or to maintain well-being. Agnes rides “because it’s fun. I don’t know. It’s therapeutic.” JZ reports: “Riding is my life, long and short of it. It is joy. It is therapy.” Similarly, Bonnie states that just being around horses “is a kind of therapy.” Still others characterize riding more explicitly as a way of preventing illness. Bella rides “because it’s my brand of going to the psychiatrist or psychologist. I was horseless for a few years and life was terrible; I was not a fun person to be around.” Isis relates: “If I had not had the horse, I would probably have had a psychic breakdown.” In a slightly different vein, a handful of informants term their interests in horses and riding in pathological terms as an addiction, obsession, or disease. Niki says, “It’s like I’m an addict and I need my riding fix.” Emma, Edie and Isis describe their horse–human relations as an “obsession” or “obsessive compulsion” and a “bacillus.” Even Karen, who had a bad horse-related accident and has not ridden for years, self-refers as a “recovering equestrian.” This range of quotes raises a number of issues. Informants depict riding, horserelated activities and human–horse relationships in ways that run a gamut from pleasure and fun, to maintaining well-being, to coping with adversity, to being a form of healing or therapy, to being a kind of sickness in itself. As (above) quotes from Lynn, Agnes, and JZ illustrate, the narrators intermingle talk of pleasurable and therapeutic aspects of human–horse relationships without pausing to take a breath or to change gears. These popularly expressed horse-as-therapist narratives raise a number of issues relevant to medical anthropology. The first and least commonly expressed concerns the medicalization of or biomedical modeling of riding and human–horse relations as a kind of CAM. The second, and far more common (as in quotes from Halla, Ajay, and Nell) relates horse– human relationships to the maintenance of well-being and everyday coping strategies. While issues relevant to medicalization and well-being resonate with a variety of

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familiar and legitimate concerns in contemporary medical anthropology and multispecies ethnography, the predominating theme—pleasure—is more problematic. As McEwan (2005) notes, misery is more amenable to analysis than happiness. The sections that follow place riders’ narratives within the analytic frameworks of CAMs as forms of healing, normality, and the maintenance of well-being, and the pursuit of happiness and pleasures.

Equine-related Therapies and CAMS Despite the anthropocentrism of Western biomedical thinking from medieval to modern times (Serpell 2010), the last 30 years has seen a dramatic growth in literature on the healing power of human–nonhuman animal encounters and the practice of a variety of animal-assisted therapy programs (DeMello 2012; Fine and Beck 2010). A variety of fields and practices involving AATs or interventions as formal strategies for treatment of people with emotional or physical disabilities are currently struggling to define themselves, move beyond fringe status, and gain credibility as a form of CAM (Kruger and Serpell 2010:33). In reference to horses, hippotherapy and EFP are well known and widely practiced (Becker 2002; Burgon 2003; Dossey and Deal 1997; McCormick and McCormick 1997). In their assessment of the current state of thought on hippotherapy and EFP as CAMs, Kruger and Serpell (2010) both make and fail to make some conceptual distinctions that place them at odds with the medical anthropology literature on CAMs (Singer and Baer 2013). First, although they initially refer to hippotherapy and EFP as forms of complementary medicine, Kruger and Serpell (2010) then conflate the terms complementary and alternative. Since “complementary” refers to medical practices and systems that function alongside biomedicine and “alternative” refers to medical practices and systems that function as distinct alternatives to biomedicine (Singer and Baer 2010:149), it is important to maintain the distinction. This is because while Kruger and Serpell (2010) place hippotherapy and EFP in the complementary camp, our horse-as-therapist informants evoke an alternative system. According to Kruger and Serpell (2010), equine therapies, as complementary forms of medicine must involve a biomedically licensed health or human service professional who has special expertise and employs a goal-directed strategy for intervention that involves specific criteria, detailed written assessments and outcome measures. In this rendering, hippotherapy is conducted under the supervision of an occupational, physical, or speech therapist who is specially trained to use the movement of the horse to facilitate improvements such as balance, coordination, and fine motor skills in the patient/client. EFP requires a legally credentialed mental health practitioner or therapist and is used for patients/clients who have issues associated with anger control, self-esteem, trust, empathy, and communication. Solidly based in biomedical practice, the fringe or “complementary” status of these fields of practice is held to be largely due to the current lack of valid efficacy studies (DeMello 2012; Kruger and Serpell 2010). A second problematic aspect of Kruger and Serpell’s (2010:34) discussion of horse-related CAMs comes from the rigid distinctions they draw by contrasting activities and benefits realized from professionalized therapy with horses, on the one

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hand, to benefits realized through recreational riding, on the other. They strongly critique what they portray as a tendency in quasi medical fields to weaken or confuse the meaning of the word “therapy” by linking it to an experience (e.g., recreation) that may provide transient relief or pleasure. By drawing these distinctions, however, they overlook more inclusive or open-ended definitions of CAMs as put forth by Singer and Baer (2013), who describe CAMs more generally as folk-healing systems situated within the domain of the common people that resist the hierarchical and bureaucratic patterns of biomedicine. Despite drawing these rigid distinctions between popular/recreational and professional/therapeutic riding, and failing to distinguish between CAMs, Kruger and Serpell (2010) proceed to lump hippotherapy and EFP into the much-broader literatures on animal-assisted activities or (AAAs) to assess how they work or function. In discussing theories of why and how AAAs work, Kruger and Serpell (2010) touch on four categories or types of therapeutic benefits recognized in the animal and equine therapy literature (see also Becker 2002; Burgon 2003; Coren 2010; DeMello 2012; Dossey and Deal 1997; McCormick and McCormick 1997; Wells 2009). These are physical, psychological, social, and developmental. Although these discussions are therapy/therapist/therapeutic-centered, many of the issues raised in the literatures on therapy find resonance with our population of recreational riders, who depict these same benefits in a discourse of pleasure and quality of life rather than in terms of impairment and professionally mediated forms of therapy. In contrast to Kruger and Serpell’s (2010) overdrawn distinctions between therapeutic and recreational riders as well as popular and biomedical healing systems, our informants’ narratives illustrate how complex, subjective, ambiguous, and fluid the boundaries can be between therapy and recreation, normal and abnormal, impairment and well-being, and illness and pleasure. While the equine therapy literature largely deals with clients who are new to or therapeutically introduced to horses and riding, our more horse-savvy sample of lifetime riders are quite ready to deconstruct their entanglements (i.e., multi-species ethnography), with horses in general and their horse partners in particular, to identify and comment on the therapeutic attributes of the horse. Going beyond a generalized, clinical language of therapeutic outcomes, such as improved balance or anger management, the informants articulate just exactly what it is about the horse, a horse, or horsiness in general that contributes to well-being of the ill and well-being of the well.

Benefits, Pleasures, and Therapies Although they emerge as consistent themes in informants’ narratives, in their conversation or popular talk about horses and riding, informants tend to merge or overlap the physical, psychological, social, and developmental benefits of riding and being around horses. Krusty’s quote illustrates this tendency:

Riding is something I love. It keeps me sane. When I ride alone it is a little touch of heaven and earth. It motivates me to connect to an end product that in turn connects me to everything else. I sometimes wonder what the meaning of life is. Riding feeds me; it feeds me. It’s a miraculous relationship

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with the horse that always amazes me. We are entrusted to their care and mental well-being. Krusty refers to the physicality of riding as she sits up and meditates on her core. Psychologically, she mentions her love of riding, how it amazes, motivates and nourishes her and keeps her sane. As a little touch of heaven and earth, riding gives her great pleasure so deeply felt that it is mystical or spiritual. In a developmental sense, she says that it makes her a better and more responsible person. Relationshipwise, Krusty mentions both the relationship she has with her horse as well as how riding connects her to everything else. What is missing from this narrative and what we cannot include (because it identifies Krusty) is how this eloquent statement of the beneficial aspects of horse–human relationships describes her relationship with a particular horse that she has owned for half her life. To parallel the therapeutic benefits literature and underline the commonalities between recreational and therapeutic riders, we dissect narratives to analyze content in terms of four categories of benefits recognized in AAA literatures. Physical Discourses on the therapeutic physical functions of animals draw on themes such as biophilia, biochemistries of well-being, exercise, and skill-building. Kruger and Serpell (2010) cite Wilson’s (1984) notion of biophilia to suggest that humans possess a genetically based propensity to attend, to affiliate with, and be attracted to other living organisms. Some studies suggest that animal related activities may raise the level of the feel-good hormones, like endorphins (Herzog 2010). Grooming and physical touch are considered important and can cause transient decreases in blood pressure and heart rate (Wells 2009). Increases in physical activity or exercise are also therapeutic aspects of owning pets (DeMello 2012) and can contribute to the development of physical skill sets (Kruger and Serpell 2010). Becker’s (2002:124) discussion of hippotherapy emphasizes the stimulating effect of the size and power of the horse on the entire human nervous system. McCormick and McCormick (1997:166) also remark on the size and close presence of a horse as an “attention grabber.” Since hippotherapy as a therapeutic method uses the muscles of the horse to stimulate muscle control and coordination of the rider, riding becomes a kind of fine-tuned intuitive communication that requires hunches and instant feedback (McCormick and McCormick 1997). Similar themes can be found in the discourse of the everyday riders and horsewomen who we interviewed. If not directly mentioning biophilia, Bonnie states, “I’ve been horse crazy ever since I could remember,” and Halla refers to her attraction to horses as inborn: “It’s like some kind of instinct or gene.” Recreational riders refer to the physical benefits of horse–human relationships in terms of balancing physical activities with more intellectual ones, release of endogenous opioids, and stimulus response. Black Bear describes her riding as “nonintellectual and physical.” Since her job is “unphysical and extremely intellectual,” the horse gives her “a sense of balance.” Judy describes her eventing activities as “an adrenalin rush.” HK states: “Riding has taught me to respond to stimuli quickly and assess what I need to do based on those stimuli.” Barbara, Halla, and Urdur also link the feel-good qualities

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with other aspects of the physicality of riding the horse. These include experience of movement and motion and the interspecies connections or communications that they involve. Barbara describes “galloping across prairie is pure joy and freedom. It’s that happy feeling—the speed. It is mobility, movement, living in the moment. It’s the physical, being with the horse, the partnership.” Halla remarks on the physicality of the horse and riding: I like the physical aspect. I like brushing my horse, feeling my horse. I like petting her. Another aspect of the physical part is the rhythm of it—the feel whether it’s trot or canter, the horse breathes rhythmically and it’s all tied together. Rather than go to the chiropractor, I ride my horse. Riding is good for my stiff back. It relaxes the muscles and gets the joints moving. Urdur describes riding by saying: “I give signals and the horse gives signals. It’s purely physical. There is harmony in this, right? By sitting on the horse I can feel its movements, the muscles under me. It feels good. We communicate by direct physical language. It is so fascinating, the power one experiences.” Size and physicality of the horse is mentioned by a number of informants as attention grabbers in both a negative and positive sense. According to Halla: “Horses are big and have quick reactions. They are an animal that can kill you.” Judy relates that “A horse is not a pet. He can kill you so you must be in control.” In a less-threatening vein, Bonnie says, “There’s just something about being around horses. I love the smell of them. I love their coat. I love to touch them.” Bonnie’s statement that she loves to touch horses demonstrates that it is somewhat of an artifice to separate physical from psychological aspects of riding. Certainly, emotions have a physical component as well as a psychological one. For example, in the therapy literature, terms like physiologic response and anxiolytic benefits (Kruger and Serpell 2010:38) refer to both how the generation of physical stimulus can be self-reinforcing as well as to how enjoyable activities can divert attention from anxiety. Similarly, McCormick and McCormick (1997), Halla, and Judy all note how the very presence and size of the horse demands that you confront your emotions. Anyone who works with horses—whether a therapy client or recreational rider—must continually face issues of balance, power, and control. Psychological In the therapeutic literature, Kruger and Serpell (2010) refer to the calming effect of human interactions or engagements with other animals. Animal companions such as dogs and cats are described as “living anti-depressants” (Coren 2010:5), that add to the joy of living (Irvine 2004:71), make us feel good (Dossey and Deal 1997:xxi), induce pleasant sensations, and relieve general stress (Coren 2010). The balance of the horse and the smooth movements of its gaits are said to elicit a relaxing, trancelike state in the rider, a natural, healthy, and a stress-reducing alpha state (McCormick and McCormick 1997:63). According to Dossey and Deal (1997), horses help people overcome fear, curb aggression, and develop an awareness of the effect of one’s behavior on others.

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Recreational riders relate similar psychological aspects of riding horses as a pleasant way of relaxing or coping. Enjoyment of riding is presented as a form of stress relief or calming effect and as a way of dealing with everyday problems and negative emotions such as being grumpy, angry, anxious, or depressed. The following quotes are rather person-centered in that informants say what they, as human individuals, get from their horse experiences. Harriet says: “No matter how low I get, no matter how miserable I am, if I get on my horse I feel better.” Similarly, Edie states, “The silent communication that comes with working with horses gives me solace.” Aurora’s horses teach her “to be calm, kind of droopy, and laid back as opposed to shaky, jittery or hyper.” Like Aurora, informants also speak of what the horse imparts to them or how the relationship that they have with a horse impacts emotions or leads to new kinds of learning or knowledge—or even being. Although their quotes could easily be in the self-development section, they all also deal with handling one’s emotions. Barbara, Nell, Katie, and Edie all remark that horses give them patience and understanding. Barbara claims that she is “probably a lot more laid back now because nothing ever goes as planned with horses.” Riding gives Nell “a lot of patience; you learn if you keep working at it things will get better.” Rigmor admits that horses have made her “more tough and more considerate.” Trust and empathy are also associated with horses. To Halla, “It’s all about trust.” Emma says, “When I’m riding I’m looking through his eyes.” Among therapeutic and recreational riders, the physical and psychological benefits of horse–human relationships is just that—relational. Physical and affective bonds are formed in human-horse relationships, but horses can also become vehicles for expanding social networks and entering into human–human relationships. Social Social functions of bonds or attachments formed with companion animals, which are faithful, dependable, and non-judgmental, can include decreased feelings of loneliness as animals become outlets for social support, nurturing behaviors, nonevaluative empathy, and unconditional regard (Fine and Beck 2010; Wells 2009). Human–nonhuman animal bonds involve relaxation of personal boundaries and willingness to become one with something else (Dossey and Deal 1997). Animals also act as social lubricants or catalysts for social mediation or interaction in that they stimulate conversation by their very presence (DeMello 2012; Wells 2009). When it comes to equine therapy programs, Burgon (2003), Kruger and Serpell (1997), and McCormick and McCormick (1997) all note the role of the horse as a positive stimulus for healthy social interaction. Informants express similar “feel good” benefits of normal horse–human relationships in terms of attachment, partnership, or the social nature of the bond. But horse activities also spark social relations among like-minded equestrians. Stable and sport communities, as well as riding as a family activity, support social relations. Relationships or attachments are described in a variety of ways. Edie describes her horse as her “best friend.” Ajay’s horse is her “soul mate.” Sally’s horse gives her “unconditional love.” To Lee, it is the little things. “Horses are an outlet for nurturing; having someone to care for. The bond you have with your horse gives

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you a very good feeling, like when you go out to get them and they come to you and let you pet them. They don’t run away. It is little things like that.” Barbara’s experience dealing with so many problem horses has made her “be selfcentered inside—confident, assertive and fair in a way that translates into human relationships.” HK and Lee also mention positive aspects of human–horse relationships. HK states that “Horses have taught me a lot about interacting with other people as well as how to function in life. Give and take is important, listening in general, listening to my partner, seeing more than myself as important, and valuing the opinions of others.” Lee says, “Riding fulfills me. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people and horses through riding.” Ajay’s comment is mixed, in that horses stepped in when humans failed to deliver: As a kid, after my father died, mom got me a horse. He became my outlet, my friend, all that. When I came home from school he was always there. He was my rock. The one I went to when I was scared or alone. Horses accept you whether you are fat, homely, they don’t care. They respond to little acts of kindness. He kept me grounded. He kept me sane. Others comment that the barn becomes a kind of hybrid community—a resource for establishing and building new relationships that include not only other riders but also their horse partners. Halla says this about barn communities: I’ve always been in a boarding situation. I view it as my social group, my entertainment group. These are the people I hang out with, even away from the horses. In the barn you discuss other things in your life. It gives you almost an extended family feeling. At the barn too you get to watch the horse in their community, out in the pasture. They have a community, too. Informants like Bonnie, Hester, and Bella describe how horses have solidified family ties. For Bonnie, a common interest in horses links her to her daughter and grandchildren. Hester and Bella grew up in “horse families.” Because they started riding as small children, they can easily track their life stages and development from childhood to old age through the particular horses that have shared their lives. Therapists, however, seem to be more interested in development as self-concept and self-esteem. Developmental Therapeutically, human–nonhuman animal relationships can enhance feelings of autonomy, competence, and self-esteem. In terms of self-concept or self-development, Kruger and Serpell (2010) and Burgon (2003) depict animals acting as therapeutic agents for cognitive and behavioral changes. Changes in self-mastery, self-concept, and self-confidence involve seeing the world in new ways and development of behavioral repertoires that include patience, control/agency, or increased efficacy or new skills, such as caretaker or teacher (Dossey and Deal 1997; McCormick and McCormick 1997). Becker (2002) views horses as a metaphor for personal power. Davis and Davis (2010) describe how, as identical twins during childhood, their

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two respective and very different ponies became an origin point for the embodiment of distinctive lifetime psyches and identities. Horse–human relationship literature stresses riding as a physical and psychological way of extending the boundaries of self. Thompson (2011) portrays riding as a transformative experience, a kind of intercorporeal mutual being and becoming between rider and horse. Similarly, Argent (2012) describes riding as corporeal synchrony, an extra-sensory and transcendent experience where moving together is a pleasurable boundary loss, a feeling of oneness, and something larger than one’s self. Notions of self or character development permeate informants’ narratives. Hester, for example, sees horses as a reward or perk for self, not as a sense of accomplishment but as a reward for accomplishments in other areas of her life. Halla and Judy actually define their selves through horses. Halla remarks that “I can’t imagine the type of person I would be if I hadn’t done horses all my life. Riding gives you a sense of competence, willingness to work and it makes you tough but it is also relaxing. A good ride gives you a sense of accomplishment and well-being.” For Judy, “Riding IS who I am. Riding gives me a sense of feeling good about myself. I’m good at it. It is a source of feeling accomplished. Riding is an integral part of my self. To give up riding would be like giving up air.” Others, like Rebecca and Morgan, describe horses as a source of self-development or problem-solving. To Rebecca, “Horses are a form of self-development” because they “make you better at taking responsibility for the choices you make.” Morgan’s life as a rider “is about relationships and about having fun, about learning different approaches to solving problems.” Horses gave Laura a chance to excel at something: “Riding as a child helped me deal with confidence issues. I was shy and riding helped with that too. No matter if anyone else notices, riding proved for me that I COULD do SOMETHING.” Bella reports that horses make her a totally different person. “With the horse I am a totally different person. In my non-horse life, I am very shy, very quiet. I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I’m always wishy-washy. I’m confident around horses. I know this job. I know what I’m doing. I’m aggressive, I have a plan and I’m going to do it.” Self-development is an important aspect of rider’s narratives. We asked our informants to tell us about their lives as riders or their life with horses. Particular horses or histories of picking up with or dropping out of horse-related activities, anchor and order life-cycle narratives. Although not all informants like Judy or JZ relate horses as self-defining, they do consider horses as intrinsic not only to their well-being but to whom and what they have become as individuals and as persons. Revisiting the Therapeutic Certainly the predominant majority of our popular informants’ narratives express the therapeutic value of horses in a casual and light-hearted language of pleasure and the maintenance of well-being. Yet, a few of the informants report therapeutic benefits of riding that beg the distinctions drawn between recreational and therapeutic riding populations by Kruger and Serpell (2010) in their avocation of equine-related therapies as forms of complementary medicines for those with clinically diagnosed disorders. Laura, Pixie, and Xena depict the therapeutic benefits of riding and horses

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as kind of prophylaxis against serious disorders or deviant behavioral proclivities— as a way for the troubled or ill to stay well. Laura says, “I ride because it is sort of my therapy. It keeps me sane. I could do bad things like drugs or drinking but riding works through the emotions and isn’t bad for you.” Similarly, Pixie describes starting to ride at age 14 as a way of keeping out of trouble: “I was in the wrong crowd and doing some not so good things.” Xena refers to the therapeutic values of her own horse as well as horses in general. She states: “Without horses I think I might be curled up in a fetal position in the corner. My horse tries so hard to please me, she makes my day. All I can do most of the time is just smile.” Having been diagnosed with clinical disorders that they self-treat through riding and horse–human partnerships, Bella and JZ explicitly medicalize their relationship with their horses. Bella suffers from ADHD. and JZ experiences bouts of major depression. Bella, like JZ, reports that her horse gives her a sense of relief that physician prescribed drugs cannot. She says: As a child I was diagnosed with ADHD, and really, my brain goes a hundred miles an hour—every which way all the time. I’m never quiet. I’ve tried medications and stuff but I’m never quiet. But when I ride it totally shuts down and I go from thinking about everything to a quiet mind and my body just reacts to the horse and I think that it is quietness in the brain. That’s why I ride. [It is] that connection with something else where I actually feel part of the animal, reacting to his body and my body. You start craving it. Once you have it you need more. It’s almost an addiction. JZ describes her life of woe as having two phases, before and after horses: Why do I ride? Riding is my life, long and short of it. It is joy. It is therapy. Before horses I was extremely depressed. Before horses I was suicidal. Before horses bad things happened in my life. Horses, I mean, they are always there. I can always go out and cry with them if I need to in the middle of the night. Every time I feel stressed or frustrated or upset I just throw it aside and go ride a horse. There’s the feeling of freedom where nothing else matters. It’s a reality check. It’s humbling. You realize that not all your problems are that big. It’s a huge thing. It has made me more responsible. Lynn also is dealing with life crises that threaten to undermine her emotional health. For Lynn, like JZ, the simple, supportive presence of her horse was a factor in her healing: Probably the time I was emotionally closest to my horse was in the middle of my divorce. I couldn’t ride. When I got up on her I bawled like a baby. But she got it. It’s like she was always right there. She would come up to the fence line and say “Hi mom, what’s shaking?” She got it. She was right there with me. When it was time to get on and get back riding again, she gave me more of a break. . . . I use my riding almost as my therapy, my psychotherapy.

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Of all the informants Laura, Pixie, Xena, Bella, JZ, and Lynn come closest to the clientele profiles described in the EFP literature (Burgon 2003; McCormick and McCormick 1997). Riding and being with horses—whether as a way to avoid deviant proclivities or deal with serious problems or impairments—is therapeutic for these six women. If not already accomplished riders, they would be good candidates for equine therapies. There is, however, an important difference here that goes beyond distinctions between recreational and therapeutic riding and riders. These accomplished horsewomen take on the role of experience-entitled experts and actors rather than defer to the expertise of licensed biomedical practitioners and go directly to their horse for therapy. The horse, as the t-shirts state, is the therapist. It is the horse and the nature/cultures (Argent 2012; Thompson 2011) of human–horse relationships that makes things better. In the narratives of our informants, horse as therapist is not a complimentary form of biomedicine (see Kruger and Serpell 2010) but an alternative, popular one (see Singer and Baer 2012). In particular, narratives from Bella, Lynn, and JZ do not exactly express an opposition or rejection to biomedical types of healing; instead, they refer to horses as working better than biomedically trained human therapists, whether in terms of suppressing or eliminating the symptoms of their disease or distresses, always being available, or making them better people, more able to cope with their problems. It is important to note, however, that whether in reference to informants’ narratives or the equine therapy literature, it is attributes of the horse and the intersubjective relationships that humans form with them whether pleasurable or therapeutic, whether mediated by licensed therapist or directly experienced, that are instrumental in the recovery, promotion, or maintenance of well-being.

Discussion and Conclusion: The Medicalization of Pleasure As a popular form of therapy or strategy for the maintenance of well-being, our data on horse–human relationships raise a number of questions of interest to medical anthropology in addition to definitional issues concerning CAMs. For example, do the horse-as-therapist data represent a form of popular sector, individual, selfdetermined, therapeutic management performed by women themselves within their own horse-based, social, or community networks (see Janzen 1987)? Are we looking at our society’s preoccupation with health and fitness as in the phenomenon of the “worried well” (Frabrega 1997:137)? Or, as DiGiacomo (1995) suggests, can you be ill and well simultaneously? Although all these issues are worthy of further analysis, at this juncture we revisit the pleasurable aspects of riding and horse– human relations and the ways that informants’ narratives interactively reposition therapy and happiness as less oppositional or mutually exclusive phenomena. For the most part, informants’ narratives positively situate human–horse relationships within everyday domains of health, normality, and maintenance of well-being. While those who review the benefits of human interactions with other species hold that they are critical to human happiness (Knight and Herzog 2009), happiness is largely ignored by researchers. The data show that whether you are an equine therapy professional or an accomplished recreational or amateur rider, the therapeutic and pleasurable benefits of horse–human relationships are conceptualized in largely

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the same frameworks—physical, psychological, social, and developmental. Interestingly, Mathews and Izquierdo (2009), in the concluding chapter of their edited book Pursuits of Happiness, advance the case for happiness as a legitimate topic of study by identifying and distinguishing four, similar key dimensions of happiness— physical, psychological, social (interpersonal), and existential (life meanings). As we have shown, recreational riders interweave discourse on pleasure and therapy throughout their narratives, whatever category of benefit they describe. What Mathews and Izquierdo (2009) introduce to the academic discussion of pleasure, that Kruger and Serpell’s (2010) discussion of equine therapies—that have guided the discussion so far—does not, is the dimension of culture. Ironically, although Kruger and Serpell reject anecdotal data as evidence of efficacy, the wide-ranging popular narratives collected in this study resonate with a number of culturally related issues raised in recent controversies over the medicalization of normality in the 5th Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association [DSM 5]. Of particular interest are those controversies concerning the borderlands of sickness and health and the medicalization of pleasure and well-being in biomedicine (Frances 2013). Psychiatrist Allen Frances (2013) has emerged as a vocal critic of DSM 5. In his book, Saving Normal, Frances faults DSM 5 for medicalizing normal life in ways that defy common sense. His critique of DSM 5 involves three central themes. The first concerns shifting responsibility for our mental well-being away from our own natural resilience. The second is the mislabeling of everyday problems such as normal grief, gluttony, distractibility, daily worries, reactions to stress, childhood temper tantrums, old-age forgetfulness, and behavioral addictions as forms of mental illness. And a third is a hyperinflation of diagnoses or illness categories that convert normal people into patients. There are certainly elements of all three of these in our sample of informants. With, through, or on their horses, the informants take common-sense responsibility for their own well-being. Yet, they, as we have shown, may also use a discourse of therapy to discuss the benefits of everyday, normal horse–human relationships. It is Frances’s third point, which also draws from his second, that we will use to conclude this discussion and that we hope will rescue “happiness” from the realm of the banal by returning to Thin’s (2009), challenge to anthropologists to look at how people enjoy their lives. Frances (2013:188–189) critiques the concept of “behavioral addictions,” introduced in DSM 5, as moving from the status of a lame joke to a potentially dead serious problem. Although he does not use the term the “medicalization of pleasure,” Frances warns that psychiatry is in danger of turning our passions, serious interests, and attachments into addictions. He remarks that although “repetitive pleasure seeking” is a normal part of human nature, the medicalization of fun is supplying people with “sick role” excuses for “impulsive hedonism” and self-indulgence. Our data suggest, however, while it is fair game to criticize psychiatry for the medicalization of everyday life, pleasures, and self-indulgence, the horse-as-therapist data show the same thing occurring in a population of recreational horsewomen where horses become therapists and riding or being around them becomes therapeutic. The medicalization of normal or ordinary life is thus taking place from the bottom up as well as from the top down. Culturally, psychiatry is shaped by public opinion as well as molding it. Yet, our informants intersperse their discourse on riding as

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therapy, with talk of riding as producing fun, happiness, and joy. Horse–human relationships confer not only physical, psychological, social, and personal benefits but are also pleasurable. Are our informants who justify their horse–human activities as therapy or therapeutic not also like a psychiatry that medicalizes normal problems and stresses but also pleasure itself? How is culture in these narratives implicated in one’s experience of pleasure and well-being? We introduce one avenue of analysis by way of conclusion. Bella refers to riding as an “addiction.” Bonnie describes herself as “horse crazy” and goes on to say, “My husband says my love of horses is an illness. He’s kidding but that tells you how much I love them.” In the company of other dedicated horsewomen, complaints about how families, husbands, and partners disapprove of the time and money riders dedicate to their horse activities find common expression. In the view of these critiques, play and pleasure are hardly legitimate reasons for riding. When their joy becomes medicalized as an obsession or addiction by their significant others, the riders, in turn, justify the time and money and intimate relationships they form with their horses in the language of therapy and biomedicine. Because society denies them the legitimacy of pleasure, horse-as-therapist discourse becomes a rebellion against, not biomedicine, but the anti-hedonist bias (of not just medical anthropology; see Thin) of Western middle-class culture in general. Pleasure can no longer exist for pleasure’s sake and pleasure, to be legitimated, becomes medicalized. According to Irvine (2004), animals can make us happy and add joy to our lives. When we initially conceptualized this study as an exercise in multi-species ethnography, we anticipated that being with or on horses would be associated with pleasure, happiness, feeling good, enjoyment, and well-being. The happiness gained from horse–human relations expressed by our informants is hardly banal; it is very deeply felt, is both an everyday and long-term phenomenon, comes from a sense of accomplishment, and is strongly implicated in the formation and expression of individual and collective identities. We did not, however, anticipate the extent to which our informants would refer to horses and horse-related activities as therapeutic in ways that mirror the physical, psychological, social, and developmental benefits put forth in the equine therapy literature. Yet, the narratives presented in this article both reify and blur distinctions drawn between therapeutic and recreational riders, between equine-assisted therapies such as CAMs, and between sickness and impairment on the one hand, and happiness and well-being on the other. One explanation for the blurring of these distinctions, we argue, is intrinsic to the nature of the horse, itself, and the nature/cultures of human relationships with horses. Whether we refer to therapeutic or recreational riders, riders with differing levels of accomplishment, different riding sports, or even different national cultures (in this case, the United States and Norway), the very physicality of the horse, the horse’s mind or temperament, and the types of partnerships or relationships that humans form with horses are expressed in a highly uniform discourse. A second avenue of explanation concerns the medicalization of pleasure. Does pleasure have to be medicalized to be engaged seriously? Debates over DSM 5 have certainly pointed us in this direction. Contemporary Western psychiatry is critiqued for its dangerous potential or proclivity to medicalize normal behaviors and the dedicated pursuit of pleasurable activities as diagnosable forms of mental illness—as obsessions or as self-indulgent behavioral addictions. While those, like

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Frances (2013) argue that culturally this will be happening from the top down, the narratives presented in this study demonstrates these proclivities are already extant in the popular culture.

Note 1. Horse–human relationships may also (as one of our reviewers points out) have negative as well as positive aspects. Among these are stress, injury, failure to live life up to expectations, demands on time and finances, and interpersonal politics in the barn or within the sport. Some animal rights advocates focus on what they see as disparities of power in horse–human relationships.

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