What a Horse Taught an 11-Year-Old About Bullying
- Mar 5
- 4 min read
Nadine Bell is an equine-assisted professional coach and a pioneer in Argentina and across Latin America, fostering emotional growth and human potential through her two signature programs: Nadine Bell Coaching with Horses, designed for corporate environments, and Horses for Humanity, dedicated to supporting vulnerable populations.
For over two decades, I have advanced equine-assisted learning across Argentina and Latin America, pioneering structured methodologies in 2003. Through guided activities that involve observation, reflection, and real-time feedback from the horse, this approach strengthens emotional intelligence, enhances self-regulation, and reveals the behavioral patterns that shape interpersonal dynamics.
In 2004, I began collaborating with the NGO Creciendo en la Cumbre in La Cumbre, Córdoba, Argentina, which provided after-school programs for vulnerable children in a community facing poverty, limited educational access, violence, and substance abuse.
In a community where aggression and instability shaped many children’s daily experiences, we developed a structured equine-assisted program aimed at breaking cycles of aggression and building emotional awareness.
The anti-bullying intervention
The NGO’s psychologist selected a small group of children struggling with communication difficulties and aggressive behavior patterns. The session began in a large arena with three horses.
The first was Bailarina, a slender chestnut mare with a long mane. I invited the children to observe her and describe what they saw.
“She looks like my aunt.”
“She reminds me of my mom.”
“She’s pretty.”
“She’s gentle.”
“I want to kiss her.”
Their language was soft. Their posture relaxed.
Next, we introduced Lobo, a large dark bay Quarter Horse. Again, I asked them to share their impressions.
“He’s like the police.”
“My older brother.”
“My dad, when he’s angry.”
“My cousins.”
When I asked them to describe him further, the group grew quiet. A few children instinctively stepped back.
The final horse to enter the arena was Batata. Batata was thin, with a patchy brown coat, a disheveled mane, and a slightly uneven lip, far from conventional standards of beauty. My daughter had named him after her favorite sweet potato candy.
I asked the children to sit in a circle around him and remain silent, explaining that this was part of the exercise and that I would be the only one speaking.
Standing before Batata, I began to mock him. I deliberately highlighted his physical imperfections, describing him as ugly and unkempt while mocking his appearance.
As I spoke, I observed the children’s faces shift from curiosity to discomfort. “Come on,” I encouraged them. “Say something. Look at this ugly horse.”
Silence. “Say it. His looks are awkward. Look at him.” My voice became firmer. Suddenly, one of the boys interrupted:
“Stop.” I turned toward him. “Look at him,” he said. “He looks sad. Please stop saying those things.” I paused and sat down with them. After a few moments, Batata lowered his head and resumed grazing.
Then I asked quietly, “Why is it that you can speak to your family and friends the way I just spoke to Batata, but you cannot say those words to a horse?”
There were no immediate answers. Only gestures of affection. Gentle hands on Batata’s neck. A shift in awareness. No lecture followed. No moralizing. The learning had already occurred.
Years later
In 2014, I returned to La Cumbre to visit my mother. While waiting at a bank, a young man approached me.
“Do you remember me?” he asked. I hesitated. “You used to call me Tuco.” Tuco, one of the twins, is known for constant fighting.
His first question surprised me: “Is Batata still alive?”
The clarity with which he remembered that horse moved me. That afternoon, he rode his motorbike to the ranch. Without hesitation, he walked toward Batata, placed a halter on him, and led him to a quiet corner. There, he embraced him and wept.
When he returned, his voice was steady. “Batata saved my life.” I remained silent. After a moment, he added:
“Do you remember the bullying session? That was the day I realized I had been a bully to my brother and my friends.” He was eleven years old at the time.
What horses reveal about bullying
Horses do not respond to language the way humans do. They respond to energy, tone, and intention. When exposed to hostility, their bodies change. Their posture shifts. Their presence contracts.
Children see this immediately. What they often fail to recognize in peers becomes unmistakably visible in an animal.
That day, Batata became a mirror, making visible the emotional consequences of behavior that had previously gone unnoticed. Not through punishment. Not through authority. But through awareness.
Bullying is rarely transformed by fear-based discipline. Research in experiential learning confirms that behavioral change emerges when consequences are experienced rather than explained. In this case, the children witnessed that reality in the horse’s immediate, nonverbal response.
Today, Batata is very old, and Tuco still visits him as a quiet reminder that the lessons learned in that arena endured far beyond childhood.
I remain convinced that education becomes transformative only when individuals experience, in real time, the emotional consequences of their actions.
Read more from Nadine Bell
Nadine Bell, Equine Assisted Professional Coach
Nadine Bell is the CEO of Nadine Bell Coaching with Horses and Horses for Humanity, and a pioneer in Argentina and Latin America as an equine-assisted professional coach applying experiential methods to leadership development and organizational performance. With certifications under NARHA, NAAEPAD, and EAGALA and early horsemanship training influenced by her grandfather, polo player Alec Bell, she combines equine interaction with emotional intelligence and communication effectiveness. She delivers leadership, team cohesion, and well-being programs for corporate groups across Argentina, Colombia, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic, while Horses for Humanity extends her impact through socially inclusive emotional-well-being initiatives.
