And two of those girls are bull riders.
Now, that’s something that would’ve turned heads when I was a kid.
Hell, it still does.
There aren’t many female bull riders in the country. Maybe fifteen or twenty who compete seriously. The sport’s changing though. The PBR’s been pushing hard to create opportunities through the Premier Women’s Rodeo, or PWR, and partnerships with organizations like Elite Lady Bull Riders. More money. More visibility. Bigger stages.
About damn time.
The girls who show up wanting to ride bulls are a different breed entirely. Most boys grow up thinking they’re ten feet tall and bulletproof. The girls have to fight just to get a seat on the bull.
Which means by the time they get here, they’re already tougher than most of the boys. More focused. More disciplined. More coachable.
Don’t get me wrong; bull riding is brutal on anybody. The strength demands alone are insane. That’s why most women who want to compete in events other than barrels naturally dobetter in bronc riding, where technique and timing matter more than brute force.
But every now and then, a girl comes along who refuses to listen when somebody tells her she should ride something else.
Natalia Hernandez is one of those girls—fifteen years old, tiny, determined, and absolutely fearless.
I’m sitting on top of the arena fence while Royce gets her settled on Bram.
Bram is one of our mid-level practice bulls. He’s not mean, dirty, or overly aggressive. But he’s athletic, fast, and explosive—perfect for testing what a rider’s really got.
Natalia adjusts her glove, rolls her shoulder, and nods once.
I grin. “Relax, Nat.”
She looks up. “I am relaxed.”
“Kid, you’re vibrating,” I say.
She glares at me. “I’m not nervous. I’m excited.”
“Well, excited isn’t relaxed. He’s gonna feed off your energy.”
She takes a deep breath and holds it for five seconds before exhaling slowly.
I lean forward against the fence. “Now don’t try to look tough. Forget the audience is here. This is between you and the bull. Just focus on your fundamentals.”
Royce catches my eye. “You ready?” he asks her.
Natalia nods.
I watch her hand. I watch her posture. I watch her balance. She’s got skill. Real potential. But that alone won’t keep you seated when a thousand pounds of muscle decides it doesn’t want you sitting on its back. Heart does.
Royce swings the gate.
The chute flies open.
Bram explodes.
The bull launches into the arena like somebody lit a stick of dynamite under him.
Natalia snaps forward, but then recovers.
Good.
Really good.
