How It Began

It was November 5th, 2024, the day of the first presidential election I was able to vote in, and roughly 3 months after I realized I wanted to pursue medical transition. I waited with bated breath to see if the people of the United States were that determined to erase my existence.

And then I mourned for about a week. And I considered that irreversible ending, only to remember that I was too weak-willed to do it on my own. And I determined that I would want to go out fighting.

After that week, I found solace in the idea of spreading awareness. I'd heard so many people around me spitting vitriol about my kind, my own coworkers shouting about it mere feet away from me, none the wiser that one of those dirty transgenders was one of their most reliable coworkers. I thought about the way that hatred was normalized, especially in small communities, and how that made being a small-town queer feel so lonely. I figured there should be a symbol, something that could be made into a sticker big enough to be seen from the street but small enough to be easily placed.

All this time, one song kept popping up in my song queues: "Pink Pony Club" by Chappell Roan. The first third kept echoing in my mind:

I'm not sure where the idea of the Pink Pony being a plush horse specifically came from. I know I wanted something cute and playful, something that would make anyone starting fuss about it seem absolutely irrational, that could create plausible deniability ("I don't see what all the fuss is about, it's just a toy horse"). But as more horses popped up and people began to notice the colors, the majority would begin to understand what the downtrodden saw all along. They would see these tiny cartoon horses popping up in small conservative towns after the election of a man who boasted about eradicating the freaks, and they would see the message clear as day:

Next, I sought out a local printer and weighed my options when it came to the final print-friendly design. The silhouette of the Pink Pony was very important to me, especially considering its quick-glance visibility. I also realized that the rainbow saddle blanket would lead to a more costly product, and while I wanted it to be a symbol of queer solidarity, this was something I also had to fund on my own. Instead, I replaced it with a giant white spot, a type of marking which is, funny enough, also called a blanket.

My design was finalized and printed on tens of vinyl stickers, which later tests confirmed were clearly seen from street-side distance, easy to remove and replace, and basically waterproof. Unfortunately, I was also a college student with a job, it took me forever to actually get them out there. At first, I didn't want to get my friends (or anyone else) implicated in this movement until it gained media traction, lest they not be sneaky enough or the small-town cops or wannabe heroes decide to be especially vindictive. But so far, nobody seems to have taken notice, and with I and everyone else I know being too busy during the most opportune times, I've relaxed my stance.

Nowadays, as I pursue my career and work towards moving out, the future of this project is as uncertain as my own.That's why I decided to start this webpage, explaining the goal of the Pink Pony and giving more people the chance to get their hands on them. I hope this will at least help get the word out and inspire more people to keep on dancing.