Queendom's Horse

The plow horse and the princess

There once was a queen who was sovereign over a modest but prosperous queendom. On the day her daughter came of age, the Queen took her daughter aside and showed her the source of her prosperity.

In the stables, far from prying eyes, was a broken old horse wearing a worn leather bridle with a rusty iron bit. The horse’s coat was worn thin in places, his mane falling out, his legs trembling from the effort of keeping himself standing.

‘He’s ready for the knackers, my daughter.’ Said the Queen matter-of-factly. ‘And there he shall go in due course.’

‘This is the horse that built the queendom!’ The princess said. ‘Surely he should have some sort of retirement! And a proper funeral.’

‘No, my daughter. You must respect his role; his role is to sacrifice for us, therefore even in death we respect his role by allowing his body to provide a last benefit. It will be the glue factory if he doesn’t live to make it to the slaughterhouse.’

‘Besides, it is not him that is magic. His bridle is the magic, my daughter. When you place it on a plow horse, the plow horse will be so proud to wear it and so proud that you placed it on him that he will work himself to death to fulfill your needs. It is his pride that makes the magic work; and his pride that gives it its strength.’

With that the Queen lifted the bridle from the old horse’s head. The old horse let out a rattling cough and, trembling, knelt. After a moment even kneeling was too much for him; he lay on its side. A few moments more and his last breath shuddered his broken body like a paper doll on a string.

The Queen watched the horse’s death with a cool detachment.

‘That poor horse.’ Said the princess, dabbing at her eyes with a lace kerchief. ‘He was pitiful.’

The Queen stared at her daughter, her demeanor solemn. ‘Controlling your sentiment is the price of leadership my daughter.’ Replied the Queen. ‘Speaking of which, after you place the bridle upon a horse’s head do not let yourself want it; do not take it off him before you are done with him; above all, do not explain its true nature to him. Now, you must select the horse that will wear your bridle.’

The Queen’s daughter took her time selecting just the right plow horse to wear the bridle. In due course she found a strong, handsome draft horse and all the queendom came to celebrate her placing the bridle upon his head in a great festival.

The princess basked in the adoration of her people as she brought out the bridle and made to place it upon the horse’s head. But soon as the bit hit the back of his tongue, the bridle transformed from worn leather into spun gold and silver, embedded with pearls and rubies.

The princess gasped at the sight of it and so did her people. She glanced around herself; now all eyes were no longer on her, they were on the draft horse. Resentment stirred in the princess’s heart.

Sensing her daughter’s discomfort, the Queen interjected. ‘But lets not forget the woman behind the draft horse.’

The gathered nobles agreed with their queen and toasted the princess’s choice.

True to her mother’s words, when the Princess had a need, the draft horse would provide. When she felt the queendom threatened by northern barbarians, the draft horse built a castle to thwart their ambitions and led the charge to repel them.

When the queendom was gripped with a famine and the princess felt the first stirrings of fear for herself, the draft horse pulled the plow faster and harder than any horse could because of the pride he had for his bridle.

But the princess was not happy. She seethed silently to herself. How the plow horse was admired when he wore the bridle! People would stop and stare and remark on how strong he was and how much he had accomplished. They awarded him titles for his great deeds. And each admiring glance and handsome trophy was a dagger in the princess’s heart.

After all it was her needs he lived to fulfill; her benefit he bowed to; her frailties he sacrificed for.

She should have the bridle! And all the attention given him should be rightfully hers! But remembering her mother’s words, ‘don’t let yourself want it; don’t take it off him until you are done with him; and above all don’t explain its true nature to him’ the princess resisted giving in to her jealousy.

One day a passing dignitary from another land happened to mention the beauty and majesty of the castle built by the plow horse. How wonderful it was and how ingenious the plow horse had been to build it. The plow horse preened under the dignitary’s compliments and the princess fumed. It was enough that her own people admired the plow horse; but must she bear a stranger’s admiration for the plow horse as well?

The princess, unable to contain her anger any longer, cried out, ‘He may have built it, but he built it for me!’ And clomped from the dignitary’s presence.

That night she went to the stable and crept to the horse’s stall. Watching him rest with the handsome bridle—surrounded by all his medals and trophies—bile rose in the princess. ‘Give the bridle to me.’

The plow horse woke and used to giving the princess whatever she needed, dutifully allowed her to grab hold of the bridle.

‘Stupid horse, I let you wear this bridle, but it was always mine. I just used it to control you! And look what you did! You were supposed to live for my needs, but you saved the best in this world for yourself!’ She pulled the bridle from the horse’s head. It turned back into crackled leather and rusted iron in her hands.

She stared at it, dumbstruck and so did the horse.

Once the horse saw the bridle for what it was, old, worn—and above all a bridle—his demeanor changed instantly. He reared up, pawing the air with his great hooves. In her haste to get out of the stall and away from him the princess dropped the bridle.

The stallion turned his head to the stable door. The door was open. In her greed for the bridle the princess had forgotten to secure it. The stallion’s nostrils flared, catching the scent of long night runs, open water and wild grasses.

He bolted through the open stable door, trampling the bridle to pieces in his escape.

The horse gone the princess looked at the cracked leather bridle now laying broken on the ground. Off the horse’s head the magic was gone—there was nothing left in the bridle to want—and she felt a dawning horror as she finally understood her mother’s warning. The bridle’s only real worth was its ability to control the plow horse and she had lost its magic forever.

About Alison Tieman (Typhonblue)

Alison Tieman (aka Typhonblue) is a Canadian writer and social observer. She is a Senior Contributor and Editor to A Voice for Men, penning superlative works that analyse gender-related behavior in men and women. She also writes for Genderratic, and is a founder and member of The Honeybadger Brigade.

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  • DruidV

    Absolutely brilliant piece. This will be retold to my son and I know he will enjoy it as much as I did.

    Great work typhonblue, as always!



    True and Well Played.

  • by_the_sword

    A beautiful tale. I still remember the day when my own bridle was trampled into the dirt.

  • AntZ

    Western culture, feminism, and MGTOW all explained in the same moment by a master in her craft. Typhon, you have no equal.

    Book! Book! Book! Book!

  • http://lifespeculiarities.blogspot.com/ Izzey

    Kick-ass-perfect writing.

    Its lesson…priceless.

  • Genyooin

    Absolutely brilliant, I love your narrative.

    Typhonblue, I take my hat off to you – you’re quickly becoming my role-model.

    Thank you.

  • scatmaster

    I saw what you did there and I nodded in silent agreement.
    Well played Madame (NOI)

  • B.R. Merrick

    “And they so did not live happily ever after.”

    With all those social programming books coming out disguised as children’s literature, someone should draw pictures for this one so we can do some de-programming of our own.

  • Rper1959

    An absolute classic, thank you, this story should be spread far and wide! It lends it’s self beautifully to illustration and I would certainly purchase it as an illustrated book, and every child for whom a gift was needed would get a copy ( and heck the adults too!)

  • Tawil

    Great imagery TB, very powerful! Story is something that has sustained civilizations for thousands of years – humans need stories and feed on them much like our bodies feed on solid food.

    On a tangent, I often think of psychotherapy as nothing more than storytelling… a person becomes troubled because the stories they previously used to orient their existence no longer make any sense and do not fit with the facts of life… so the person goes to see a therapist in order to co-write a new fiction to take home. Imagine that, therapist and patient as co-authors drafting a new story that will better fit the person’s life! Some facts get left out of the new story, other neglected facts get included for the first time. The new story gives the patient improved identity and orientation – just like the blue-pill / red-pill stories.

    I’m very excited about this latest trend on AvFM – using metaphor and story to convey deep truths… it shows how sophisticated the leaders of this forum have become. All the world’s religions and great holy figures got their fame by telling parables/stories. Pointing out empirical, intellectual fact, regardless of how true, is never quite as gripping as story – this is the reason why feminism has triumphed for over 30 years; it was based on highly emotive storytelling dressed up as fact and it grabbed at people’s imaginations. Unfortunately feminism’s stories make for a terrible orientation and create massive destruction… It’s time for a new story, children of the world.

    TB, one suggestion- “he lay on its side.” could read better as “lay on his side”.

  • http://www.avoiceformen.com Dr. F

    Hey Typhon, this is great stuff.

    The radio show for kids would do well to have this read out.

  • Atlas Reloaded

    I printed this out. THAT good! And Dr F is bang on, first thing to do in that AVfM kid’s radio is tell stories like this.

  • Atlas Reloaded

    I predict this generation to come will see a great MANY princesses watching their plow horses bolting through the stable doors. 😀

  • Kimski

    Very powerful storytelling there, Typhon.
    I wish I could write like that.

  • http://truthjusticeca.wordpress.com/ Denis

    This is a good story. I’m going to print it out to read to my kids. I’m not sure if they’re going to get the imagery of the magic horse or the princess’ jealousy of the horse’s recognition. Likely, they’re going to think that having a magic horse would be cool and having cool things automatically brings attention to the owner.

    • Kimski

      I think they’ll get it all right, Denis.
      Good storytelling is about creating characters that you identify and empathize with, and TB pulled that off very nicely here. Never underestimate kid’s ability to comprehend what’s going on. They have fought and won wars against adults in the past.

      • http://truthjusticeca.wordpress.com/ Denis

        They’ll get some of it, at least the parts about selfishness. However, I try to think about how they would relate the imagery to their lives. Initially, the horse would be thought of as a pet, which I still have to remind them to empathize with their pets when they are playing with them. Possibly, they’ll understand the metaphor that the horse is actually me or men who built their castles. Either way, I don’t think they would ever consider being jealous.

        For 7 year olds, they’ve already had a lot of feminist junk thrown at them that I’ve had to explain the reality of primitive societies that men and women were faced with real hardships and had to specialize for the benefit of everyone, especially children.

        Just last week, the issue that women and children were the “property of men” came up. Well, I explained that women and children were the “responsibility” of men, just like in Thidwick the Bighearted Moose. I dared not explain that nowadays, men and children are the “property of women”, but they will learn that eventually.

        • Kimski

          You got my upvote on that one, brother. I especially liked the ‘Thidwick the Bighearted Moose’-explanation, and I think that even I would have bought that one, if you used it on me. :)
          -And I concur wholeheartedly with your following statement. -How could they not learn that nowadays?

  • keyster

    Women dying while giving birth was fairly common by today’s standards. That was her risk and sacrifice.

    When the Simpson Forceps (and variants) were invented in 1848 this changed dramatically. The Pill further shifted the “balance of sacrifice”, and then legalized abortion for “after-the-fact” empowerment.

    The medical refinements of safely birthing babies, birth control and abortion rights changed women. Men have not changed. They’re still sacrificing for women, and mothers of their children. The conditions of the DEAL have changed, and men haven’t evolved with it.

  • Lordmep

    Fairy tales and other such simple stories have always been excellent tools for teaching. Short, sweet, and to the point. If we could get enough stories like these out into the mainstream, the new traffic might cause this site to temporarily shut down.

  • Bombay

    Very good!!!!

  • Steve_85

    It’s almost like this story is trying to tell us something. Almost like the bridle is a, whats that word? A metaphor? For something else…

  • Auntie Pheminizm

    Ah, if men but would listen to their “horse sense”…their innate sense of what’s right and wrong.

    Alas, it is socialized out of us starting at about age five, when boys are trained not to show, then feel, their emotions. By the time they are 40, most men can’t tell the difference between chicken shite and chicken salad.

    Worse, the worst men (having acted like douchebags), repent by treating and depicting other men like d-bags, too. Hence, the Promise Keeper and Southern Poverty Law Center…created by failed men who seek to bring other men down.

    From a website dealing with Orwell’s ANIMAL FARM:



    >> “Boxer was an enormous beast, nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary horses put together. A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he was universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous powers of work.”

    >> Boxer represents the indispensable working man without whom the elite would be incapable of surviving in the comfort and manner to which they’ve become accustomed and to which they intend to stay….

    >> “Nothing could have been achieved without Boxer, whose strength seemed equal to that of all the rest of the animals put together. When the boulder began to slip and the animals cried out in despair at finding themselves dragged down the hill, it was always Boxer who strained himself against the rope and brought the boulder to a stop. To see him toiling up the slope inch by inch, his breath coming fast, the tips of his hoofs clawing at the ground, and his great sides matted with sweat, filled everyone with admiration. Clover warned him sometimes to be careful not to overstrain himself, but Boxer would never listen to her. His two slogans, ‘I will work harder’ and ‘Napoleon is always right’, seemed to him a sufficient answer to all problems.”


    Me: Boxer sensed early on the hype that soon followed the takeover of Animal Farm. Sorta like the takeover of the West by feminism. But he doubted himself and continued to play “their” game until carted off to the glue factory.

    Lesson: Stop buying into fembotulism! We know it’s misandric, prospering at our expense, fueled by the notion that men have “all the power” when the truth is we don’t.

    But what men are willing to stand up and be mocked for admitting they are relatively powerless so long as they buy into the myth?

    Reminds me of a Sunday paper cartoon I might have mentioned before. In it a boy, sweating but smiling, is pulling a wagon with two girls in it. They were saying something like, “Jimmy, you are sooo strong!”

    Now, we don’t get even that compliment. It’s expected that we will keep pulling while called a-holes.

    Time to take red pills, no?

  • Paul Elam

    Typhonblue elevates the discussion throughout the MRM without even appearing to try.

  • Auntie Pheminizm

    I find much comfort on this website.

    I’ve commented on numerous other “gender issues” sites under various noms-de-Cyberia (hundreds on Salon alone), but didn’t truly trust the grit of other posters. AVFM is the one place where I think participants “get it,” are eloquent, and are ready to FTSU.

    I’m a long-time MRA. I’ve been laying sorta low for the past few decades, tired of being hammered and feeling alone. I think I’ve found a “home” here. It bodes well. Might be time to come out swinging again, too, with brothers-and-sisters-in-arms.

    Might be time to enter mass media as well, repping for AVFM. I have time, energy, experience. Just leery of the blow-back if I use my real name. Not bragging or being coy, just Been There. Not fun sometimes, threats and all.

    Still, I think it might be time.

    Plus I might be able to rally other long-term, tried-and-tested, hard-core “army regulars” to this site, too. Some are “big names.”

    Still debating, though.

    I’m putting a bunch of what I’ve done on a website. When the time is right…hopefully soon…I will link Paul to it and let him see if I pass muster. Then we can see what might be done. Surely it’s time to do more than post online.

    Wish me/us luck.

    God bless us, every one!

    • Paul Elam

      My door is open, brother.

    • http://www.manwomanmyth.com Perseus

      Anti, I’ve followed your extraordinary posts for a long time. I identify with them exceptionally, a big fan and am pleased by what you’ve said in this post.

      And god bless you, brother.

  • http://www.youtube.com/user/RockingMrE?feature=mhee Rocking Mr. E

    Beautifully written story Typhon. Very inspiring.

  • UKMan

    Lovely story. I’ll read it with my daughter this evening. Her school play recently featured the Suffragettes as one of the topics – I made sure I mentioned the fact that it’s men’s ultimate sacrifice that protects our rights to vote at all. She seemed to understand.


    ‘Walk a Mile in Her Shoes’ is being covered in the UK’s Daily Mail:


    Air strike required!

  • operationoptout

    Amazing TBlue. Enough said.

  • Dazza

    Amazing story Typhonblue.

    I really feel for the broken old horse. So true that the queen would treat him like crap. Men work till they are old and worn out, while their wives have lived a life of ‘being served’. And the old wives still treat their husbands like total crap. Even today I saw an old wife blame her husband (who is in a wheelchair) for losing her bottle of soft drink. Well it turns out that the bottle of soft drink was in her hand bag the whole time. She couldn’t admit she was wrong. She still blamed him saying ‘you must have put the bottle in my handbag’. He didn’t say a word.

  • http://manamongoaks.com/index.html Ray

    Excellent metaphorical article about a privileged princesses expectations and manipulation.

    Here’s another excellent article pointing out specific deceptions employed by privileged gender feminists.

    False Statistics by Feminist Groups Lead to Hysteria, Misandry http://tinyurl.com/76qlcjv

    It’s very disgusting how men are hypocritically attacked in the newspaper’s comment section as “angry,” and creating divisiveness between the sexes, merely for correcting feminist’s fraudulent claims, while it’s clear to anyone who’s done their homework that it was feminists who purposefully, and hatefully, opened this front (created VAWA) as part of their “War on Men.”

    It appears men are tangibly beginning to throw off the feminist’s manipulative, power and control bridle.

  • Lee

    Really cool idea. :)

  • Roderick1268

    A truly traditional folk/faerie tale.
    Like it should be, not just an entertainment story – with good graphics.
    The Victorian pretty, pretty, the Disneyfied, – and even worse modern stuff is time wasting and hollow.
    Good stories bite!
    Wonderful talented stuff TyphonBlue, from a fan of folklaw, forests and faeries.