Experiencing Peacock’s three-part docuseries, "High Horse: The Black Cowboy," resonated deeply, particularly following a day spent connecting with a new mustang, a humbling encounter that underscored the profound bond between humans and horses. This immersive experience, characterized by a palpable mix of trepidation, exhilaration, and profound respect, mirrored the series’ central themes of authenticity and the often-unseen labor that underpins the cowboy ethos. The quiet curiosity and steady presence of the mare, much like the historical narratives the documentary seeks to uncover, spoke volumes about a history that has long deserved broader recognition. The fundamental lessons in horsemanship—maintaining steady hands, a deep seat, and quiet legs during a brisk loping gait—might appear subtle from the sidelines, yet they are transformative for both rider and steed, revealing that an animal weighing a thousand pounds possesses an unerring sense of one’s true confidence, capable of discerning genuine skill from mere pretense.

The raw honesty and clarity inherent in the human-equine relationship are precisely why "High Horse" landed with such significant impact. The series powerfully asserts that Black hands have been integral to the fabric of the Western United States for generations, actively involved in breaking horses, herding cattle, patrolling fences, participating in races, and training magnificent animals. The issue is not the recent emergence of Black cowboys into the Western narrative; rather, it is the persistent societal surprise at their enduring presence. Executive produced by Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Productions and helmed by independent filmmaker Jason Perez, a protégé of Spike Lee, "High Horse" masterfully interweaves compelling archival footage and photographs with contemporary scenes of Black cowboy life. It traverses the landscapes of film, music, and marketing history to demonstrate how the commonly told story of the West often diverges from its lived reality, suggesting a historical "airbrushing" that has gradually narrowed the definition of who is considered authentically part of this legacy.

"High Horse" emphatically rejects the notion of Black cowboys as a mere footnote in American history, instead tracing a clear and unbroken lineage from the skilled labor of formerly enslaved individuals who managed horses and cattle, through the era of Black jockeys who dominated early horse racing, to the contemporary riders, ranchers, and entrepreneurs shaping the West today. The series adeptly keeps history alive and relevant without resorting to didacticism, focusing instead on the tangible realities of horsemanship. It highlights the rider’s seat, the subtle language of their hands, and the countless hours dedicated to honing their craft. For those familiar with riding, these elements are immediately recognizable, underscoring the horse’s impartial response to consistency and fairness, irrespective of a rider’s personal narrative. This fundamental understanding reveals how often the romanticized cowboy aesthetic is celebrated, while the demanding, hands-on work that defines the craft remains largely overlooked.

The documentary frequently lingers on striking images of Black riders, seated with unwavering poise, surveying expansive landscapes or navigating urban peripheries shaped by shared historical currents. These seemingly simple, quiet frames carry a potent charge, particularly for Black Americans, for whom land represents far more than just scenery. It embodies inheritance and loss, the weight of promises made and subsequently broken, and the critical distinction between being a transient visitor and a dedicated steward.

This profound connection to land and its history personalizes the series’ message for many, myself included. My father, a native Texan, was deeply involved with ranching from his youth and later managed land and livestock in California, experiences that profoundly influenced me and inspired the founding of Outdoor Afro in 2009, initially as a blog and a tribute to his enduring legacy. Similar to "High Horse," Outdoor Afro aimed to rectify the prevailing narrative surrounding Black people’s historical and ongoing connection to the outdoors. This initiative has since blossomed into a national organization, now facilitating annual outdoor excursions for thousands of Black families, fostering a sense of reunion and belonging rather than merely following a trend.

Now, in midlife, I have returned to horsemanship with a renewed and unexpected seriousness. The practice has cultivated within me greater patience and a more profound sense of honesty. It has also encouraged a more nuanced perspective on land, fostering a deeper sense of responsibility for my lifestyle choices and their broader impact on both our communities and the natural world. My current mare, a mustang hailing from the Twin Peaks Herd Management Area in the high desert along the California-Nevada border, is a constant reminder of this connection. I named her True Haven, a testament to the belief that God is a refuge and that peace is an achievable state of being in all aspects of life. Horses, with their innate demand for fairness and consistency, serve as immediate arbiters of trustworthy leadership, readily signaling whether one is a dependable guide or not.

While owning a wild horse does not confer expertise on public lands and wildlife policy, it does foster an intimate understanding of stewardship and deepen my commitment to preserving the nation’s public lands and wild spaces. Abstract slogans lose their potency when one is holding a lead rope, focused entirely on the immediate needs of another living creature for safety and clarity. "High Horse" astutely recognizes that the story of Black cowboys is inextricably linked to the narrative of Black land ownership. This connection extends beyond the romantic allure of open spaces to encompass the complex realities of acreage, access, land titles, taxation, and the pervasive influence of power dynamics in determining who can remain on and steward the land. While the series refrains from delving into policy minutiae, it bravely addresses a truth many in the West tend to avoid: the freedom of the West was never equitably distributed, and the history of the region is indelibly marked by both overt and systemic violence that has shaped its geography.

Despite its weighty subject matter, "High Horse" is fundamentally a celebration of freedom. The series showcases young riders in training and competition, elders imparting invaluable knowledge, and the enduring strength of family traditions. It captures the spirit of community, with people gathering around horses much like they would for church potlucks or family reunions. In a cultural landscape where Black history is too often presented solely through the lens of trauma, this series offers a vital counter-narrative, highlighting excellence, craftsmanship, humor, pride, discipline, and, most importantly, joy.

If the series exhibits a limitation, it lies in its scope; three episodes can effectively raise a banner but cannot encompass every facet of this rich and complex history. There is a palpable desire for more extensive exploration of Black women riders, a deeper dive into the economic realities of horse ownership, and a more thorough acknowledgment of the interwoven histories of Black and Indigenous peoples on Western lands. Furthermore, one might wish for the series to place greater trust in the voices of its working riders. While the inclusion of well-known celebrities and scholars provides valuable reach and context, there’s a risk of overshadowing the very Black cowboys and ranchers whose generational stories of working the land and their horses could resonate powerfully on their own, without extensive interpretation.

Perhaps the most significant achievement of "High Horse" is its unwavering refusal to frame the Black cowboy as an anomaly. The series actively invites viewers to broaden their conception of what it means to be "Western," moving beyond the confines of traditional Hollywood portrayals. For anyone who cherishes the West, this re-evaluation of its historical narrative is both timely and essential.

Watching the series evoked a profound reflection on those initial moments with my mare: her watchful gaze, her patient waiting, and the unspoken questions she seemed to pose about the kind of partnership we would forge, mirroring my own internal inquiry. Just as a horse responds with clarity, consistency, and care, so too should we approach our collective history. If we aspire to inhabit a West that is grounded in honesty and poised for a robust future, we must commit to telling the complete story and safeguarding the very ground upon which it is built.

"High Horse" is not, and should not be, the definitive final word on Black cowboys; however, it represents a significant stride toward a more inclusive vision of the West, one where Black riders are recognized not as visitors, but as fundamental pillars of the region’s identity and crucial contributors to its conservation future.