Mia Lasic-Ellis

The Bowdoin Equestrian Team is simply the best space on campus.

And to prove it, a quick primer in all things equine: horses walk, trot, canter, then gallop—so I proceed with the following:

Walking

Who’s this captain of Bowdoin Equestrian? Me! Larah Gutiérrez-Camaño ’26.

So back in first year, I’m clicking through the CampusGroups club page when I spotted Bowdoin Equestrian. I turned to Google, coming face to face with clean-shaven lawns, Italian leather-cut boots and shiny horse coats, an affluence I had never been exposed to and certainly did not look like, feel like or embody.

But the chance to say yes to something so different bulldozed any hesitation.

So I joined.

I’m Latina, part of the THRIVE community and had zero horse experience. Week after week, I signed up for lessons, but it became clear the team had no infrastructure for a beginner like me. Ten weeks in, I still hadn’t ridden. I lead-walked horses through cones, wasn’t introduced to the other members, never left the ground.“What do you even compete in? Hunter/jumpers? Dressage?”

Oh, me? Cone division.

But I loved working with horses, so I kept showing up, stumbling through this unfamiliar equine world.

Trotting

Equestrian is only funded as a fall sport—eight riders, one semester, one lesson a week—so when fall ended, so did my time with the horses, while those who could pay privately kept riding.

By spring, the team remained a quiet, exclusive club. But senior leadership wanted someone younger to take over, and I knew I had one shot. If I didn’t advocate for myself, my time with horses might just … stop.

So I applied for captainship with zero riding experience but a strong cone-navigation résumé and, somehow, got the job.

Suddenly, I was captain of the Bowdoin Equestrian Team. Captain of the Bowdoin Cavalry. Captain of … a sport I still couldn’t ride in.

But leadership meant I could change the team, and it meant I had a place to keep learning.

Cantering

Over the next two years, I worked to transform the team. Today, eight members of diverse backgrounds and skill levels, still only funded for one weekly lesson (while our competitor schools get five), placing top three in our individual classes.

We built community: team dinners, messy carpools, loud cheering.

You’ve just got to see us in competition.

Picture this: UVM, Dartmouth—teams of 20-plus lifelong riders dripping in merch—staring us down. Then … us. Eight riders—half beginners, half experienced—rolling up blasting reggaeton, changing the face of equestrian and giving the big-shot schools real competition.

Two years as captain, and this culture of success and accessibility was at our core.

As we grew, the team embraced the tone I set, and for three years we fought to receive funds for a real beginner program.

Every year, we were denied.

Galloping

When we were denied beginner funding for the third year in a row, and our budget was cut even further—leaving us with barely a lesson a week and only one competition—I sat my team down. Looking back at me was the community I never had my first year. We weren’t going to give up, we asked ourselves: How do we keep our competing members afloat? How do we keep equestrian accessible even without Bowdoin’s support for a beginner program?

And we answered, securing free, no-cost horsemanship workshops for the entire campus, made possible because we teach the workshops ourselves. Weekly, our competition athletes—on top of team dinners, out-of-barn workouts, weekly lessons, academics—carve out their weekends to instruct leadwalking, grooming, tacking and beginner programing. The first of its kind in collegiate equestrian.

Given less than the minimum, we agreed: Bowdoin Equestrian wouldn’t be Bowdoin Equestrian without accessibility at its core. If we couldn’t get more beginners onto horses, we’d get more of Bowdoin into the barn.

Our horsemanship lessons are one of the most beautiful things I’ve built at Bowdoin—hands on, welcoming, designed for people who look like me, come from communities like mine or just want to try something new. We teach everything but riding: how to understand, care for and communicate with horses, removing the financial and cultural barriers that gatekeep equestrian. In doing so, we’ve created a rare campus space where students from vastly different backgrounds find community within one of the most exclusive sports.

It’s the space I wish I had walked into my first year.

And a space I’m proud to leave behind, but not quite yet.

Because, as I said, we’re only a fall semester sport.

Equestrian comprises the eight most badass women I know. Riders, instructors, students, leaders. Bowdoin is lucky to have a group like us representing them—eight riders funded for training once a week, for one semester, changing the space and placing top three while doing so.

We’re united in our commitment to equity and hope to continue our competitions and workshops, but we cannot continue this work without a full year: a chance to qualify for regionals and to finally get beginners off the ground and onto horses.

Because, simply put, Bowdoin Equestrian is the best thing on campus, not because we win without the resources, but because it is now a place where someone like me, someone who started in the cone division, could end up leading the cavalry.

Larah Gutiérrez-Camaño is the captain of Bowdoin Equestrian and a member of the Class of 2026.