We are Delighted to have been Named as a Finalist in The Equestrian Business Awards Diversity Category

Why one horse's response to a veteran prisoner tells the story better than we ever could.

Fly In Johnny

This prestigious award celebrates organisations that are helping make the equestrian industry more inclusive, accessible and welcoming, while creating opportunities for people from all backgrounds to experience the benefits of being in the presence of horses. It recognises those who are taking down barriers, supporting communities and creating positive change.

As we reflected on the news, it struck me that there are a great many beings we need to thank for helping us reach this point – horses and humans alike. The award may have Horserenity's name on it, but every day I witness moments that belong more to the horses more than they do to us. Moments that remind me why this work matters and why creating opportunities for people to spend time with horses is so powerful.

One horse in particular came to mind for his work behind the wire: Fly In Johnny.

Many of you will know Johnny as one of the beautiful souls at Horserenity. A former racehorse, he now lives as part of our herd of boys, enjoying a life very different from the one he once knew. Johnny is one of the most sensitive horses I have ever worked with. He notices everything and feels deeply. Whilst he is incredibly generous with people, he is also honest about his boundaries and clear in his communication. If something doesn't feel right, Johnny will let you know.

Over the years, Johnny has worked alongside many different people. He has met children struggling in education, veterans carrying the visible and invisible injuries of service, and individuals within the criminal justice system taking part in our work behind the wire. Again and again, I have watched him respond not to titles, labels or life stories, but simply to the human being standing in front of him. It is also why the story I am about to tell you has stayed with me.

During one of our prison programmes last year, Johnny was grazing quietly at liberty in the round pen while a military veteran, on the programme, stood a short distance away watching him. Neither moved. Johnny didn't lift his head and walk towards the man, and the man didn't walk towards Johnny. For a minute or so they simply stood together in silence. Then Johnny lifted his head and looked at him.

There were signs, subtle at first, that something deeper was beginning to unfold. Johnny's ears flicked softly forward and back, not searching or wary, but attentive. His breathing slowed, his muzzle softened and the tightness around his eye began to ease. The man's posture changed too. The guarded tension in his shoulders relaxed, his hands steadied and the small automatic movements of someone accustomed to vigilance began to fade. It was the kind of shift you only notice when you're really watching; a settling, a dropping down into presence. The silence between them wasn't empty. It felt charged, full of possibility.

Eventually the man took two slow steps forward and rested a hand on Johnny's side. For many horses that might seem entirely ordinary, but Johnny is known for guarding his belly. If something feels even slightly 'wrong', he makes his feelings clear. Yet this time he didn't move away. His ribcage softened beneath the man's hand, his head lowered slightly and his bottom lip relaxed. He wasn't tolerating the contact. He was accepting it.

The man stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Johnny's middle, resting his head against him. Everything in me became alert. Johnny does not readily invite hugs, yet he stood quietly. He shifted his weight to support the man leaning against him, breathed out slowly through his nose and I noticed his whole body soften. His ears rested in a neutral position and his body language was unmistakable. They remained together for several minutes. When the man finally stepped back, his eyes filled with tears. After a long silence he said, "That's the first hug I've had in forty years. And the first time I've ever asked for forgiveness." He paused before adding quietly, "That's changed my life."

The man was serving a life sentence. People in prison are often among the most marginalised members of our society. Many have experienced trauma, exclusion and disconnection long before they ever enter the criminal justice system. Yet once inside, they can quickly become defined by a label. Prisoner. Offender. Inmate. For many people, that label becomes the whole story.

But that is not what Johnny saw. Johnny saw a human being.

For me, that moment captured the very essence of what this award seeks to recognise. Inclusion is not simply about opening gates. It is about what happens once people walk through them. It is about creating spaces where people feel welcome, valued and able to be themselves, regardless of their background, circumstances or life experience.

At Horserenity CIC we work with children who are struggling in education, young people facing significant challenges, veterans carrying visible and invisible injuries, people living with neurodiversity, families facing difficult times and individuals within the criminal justice system. Many arrive carrying stories about who they are supposed to be. The horses rarely pay much attention to those stories. Instead, they meet the individual standing in front of them.

Again and again, we witness moments that remind us what true inclusion looks like. Not lowering standards or treating people differently, but creating opportunities for connection, belonging and understanding. That is why being named a finalist means so much to us. It is recognition of every participant who has trusted us, every volunteer who has supported us, every member of our team who has believed in the vision and every horse who has chosen, in their own way, to step into relationship with the people who come through our gates.

We are honoured to be finalists and grateful to everyone who has been part of the journey. Most of all, we are grateful to the horses. Every day they remind us that true inclusion begins when we stop seeing labels and start seeing individuals. Perhaps that is the greatest lesson they have to offer us all.

Now to go shopping for some glad rags to wear to the awards in London - the invitation for the daytime reception, at the House of Lords, says come in smart work attire, but I'm not convinced they mean my best jeans and clean wellies!

The story of Johnny is adapted from an excerpt in Sarah Vivian's forthcoming book, "Horse (with a Capital H)", due to be published later this year.