Let me just start by saying: I am not a cowgirl. Not even close. If you know me, you’ll probably laugh at the idea. I’m not particularly drawn to animals, and climbing onto one? That’s never been my go-to idea of a good time. But that’s exactly what makes my song “Cowgirl” so funny — it’s me poking fun at myself, wrapped up in a comical, ironic take on a phase of my life that still makes me shake my head and smile.
Right before my family moved to Paraguay, we lived in Bolivia — and that’s where I caught the infamous “horse bug” that so many teen girls seem to get. My dad found me an old horse. Of course, my dreams of galloping gracefully into the sunset were short-lived... I managed to break my arm while the horse was trotting. Not galloping, not bucking. Just trotting. Let that sink in.
When we finally settled in the Paraguayan Chaco, most of my friends were total nature lovers — the kind of people who ride horses like they were born in the saddle, who thrive in the wild, who think cow-wrangling is a good time. Meanwhile, I was just trying to keep up. Like most teens, I really wanted to fit in. I wanted to be that confident, horseback-riding girl who could keep up with everyone. So I begged my parents to let me go to horseback riding school.
It started out okay — I mean, learning to saddle a horse was kinda fun. But the more I rode, the more I realized something: horses could feel my fear, and I couldn’t hide it. I fell off a few times, been bucked off a few times, held the whole class back, and eventually had to admit it — this just wasn’t for me. The horses knew it. I knew it. And don’t even get me started on cows. I’ve had too many run-ins with protective, aggressive cows to even pretend I’m okay around them. They terrify me.
So when the idea for “Cowgirl” came up, I was actually working on some music theory homework and thinking about the whole identity thing. How I tried to morph into this cowgirl version of myself just to fit in. I didn’t want the song to be heavy or overly serious — just light-hearted and a bit ridiculous. I mean, imagine a city girl changing everything about herself to get the approval of a rugged Chaco cowboy. That was basically the plot I ran with.
But underneath the humor, there's a deeper layer. That teenage pressure to change yourself to be liked or accepted — it’s real. The identity to try to please people instead of ignoring what God has made you to be. And I learned the hard way that forcing yourself to become someone you’re not usually ends up in a broken arm... or at least a bruised ego. It’s okay to try new things, but it’s also okay to admit when something just isn’t your thing.
I still admire the real Chaco cowgirls and cowboys — the ones who work the land, compete in rodeos, lasso cows like pros, and look amazing doing it. They are seriously some of the coolest people I know. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll climb back on a horse. But trust me, I won’t be trying anything fancy.
That’s the story behind “Cowgirl.” I’d love to hear what you think!
Yours,
Talitha Toews.
