Escaramuza riding team revives and reclaims the Mexican roots of Idaho cowboy culture
The late summer scene on the outskirts of Caldwell was, in many ways, the quintessential image of the American West.
Riders trained and raced their horses in circles in the looming shadow of the Owyhees, while encouraging friends and family propped boots on the fence and children staged cowboy shootouts on the edges of the dusty corral.
But nearly all instructions and conversations were in Spanish, and the cadre of Latinas riding sidesaddle through carefully choreographed routines in the corral — called a lienzo — were training for a Mexican equestrian sport called escaramuza.
The all-female members of the Caldwell-based Escaramuza Charra Sueño Dorado are part of a charrería tradition that predates much of the Western traditions Idaho holds dear.
“For me, it’s an honor to be an escaramuza,” said Paloma Sanchez, one of the leaders of the team. “It’s something to be proud of. We aren’t in Mexico, but the culture continues here.”
Are escaramuzas just Mexican cowgirls? Not exactly.
Charrería is Mexico’s national sport, filled with events and competitions that many would recognize from American rodeos. But much of the cowboy and rodeo culture of Idaho and the American West has Mexican roots and origins.
Escaramuza is a precision-riding sport requiring a close partnership with the other team members and an even closer relationship with your horses, as they weave in and out of complex routines, often at breakneck speed.
“It’s discipline for both us and the horses,” said 13-year-old Pamela De La Riva, of Melba.
The escaramuza uniforms are precise, too. Teams that make it to Federación Mexicana de Charrería competitions are judged not just on skill, but on presentation.
The escaramuza dresses are deeply rooted in the tradition of the Adelitas, women who rode into battle during the Mexican Revolution in the early 1900s. Like other women of the time period, the Adelitas rode sidesaddle. They’re now immortalized in Mexican corridos, history and escaramuza teams like Sueño Dorado. Everything from the delicately embroidered sombreros strapped to their chins to the full-skirted dresses and puffy-sleeved tops must be perfect. Competition judges deduct points if the escaramuza uniforms don’t follow the federation’s regulations.
Idaho has only two escaramuza teams, and Escaramuza Charra Reinas de Idaho is also based in the Treasure Valley. That may make it easier to eventually qualify for an annual competition in Mexico, as just one team from each Mexican and American state can advance. But it’s also a sign of how tiny the charro community really is in Idaho — and how far they are from coaches and trainers based in Mexico and California. In fact, Sanchez said Sueño Dorado was the very first escaramuza team in Idaho, mostly because many people just don’t know that Idaho has charrería.
An escaramuza team can have up to 16 members, with just eight allowed to compete at a time. Sueño Dorado recruited its eighth escaramuza in October, right as practice slowed for the winter months.
“They have to be dedicated and responsible,” Sanchez said. “Because it takes a lot of time, practice and money. They have to have a lot of passion.”
Family ties drive cultural traditions
The small but dedicated team in Caldwell spent countless Fridays during the summer and fall months practicing routines and training new girls until there was no light left. The women and their families convened on the lienzo from the far stretches of the Treasure Valley, borrowing horses and training gear or trekking their own horse trailers from Marsing, Homedale, Melba, Caldwell and Nampa.
Many of the women on the team, such as 22-year-old captain Lizet Villa, grew up around charrería and ranching culture. Most have been riding horses since they were toddlers. Their fathers, brothers and boyfriends are charros, or cowboys. Their daughters, sisters, mothers — even grandmothers —were and are escaramuzas.
“My dad is a charro, and he competes on the guy’s team, too,” Villa said. “My whole life I’ve watched him. I grew up around all this. It’s just a love you grow up around, with your family and friends.”
De La Riva’s mother, Ana Rosa, competed in an escaramuza team in Southern California for 10 years, racking up several championships. During one August practice, she paced the edge of the lienzo, coordinating with a friend over the phone to find old photos of her team the national federation had asked her for.
De La Riva walked beside her, sidelined with a broken arm — although not from a competition or performance. She had abandoned the stately sidesaddle and tried to hop on her horse bareback at home, she told the Statesman with a sheepish grin, and had quickly fallen.
“Accidents can happen, but I love it that she’s riding,” said Pamela De La Riva’s mother, Ana Rosa. “It makes me so proud that she’s following this tradition. It’s what makes us Mexican, basically.”
The sport can be dangerous, of course — but that doesn’t stop parents from getting charro kids riding before they can even walk. Before practice, Sanchez propped her toddler on the front of her saddle for a quick ride. Her daughter, also named Paloma, and Villa’s little sister Bianca trotted horses around the lienzo while the women changed outfits.
Federico Villa — Villa’s father — said it was important to start kids early. He was also sporting a broken arm, but he still joined the other men who bustled around, helping the women mount their horses in full competition costume and keeping the younger kids safely away from the practice.
During practice, Villa’s boyfriend, Alex Cosio, leaned against the fence, watching carefully and jumping in to assist when needed. Like Villa’s father, Cosio is also a charro, competing in a variety of events. Villa said the family-oriented atmosphere and the partnership between charros and escaramuzas was one of her favorite parts about the culture.
“Being an escaramuza is a blessing,” Villa said. “It’s just being able to do what you love, going to charreadas and watching your dad, your brother, your boyfriend compete. And the escaramuzas, they’re like sisters now.”
Reclaiming the Mexican roots of Western cowboy culture
Escaramuza Charra Sueño Dorado does have a “sueño dorado“ or “golden dream” like their name suggests. They want to compete in Mexico, representing Idaho at the National Charro Championships held every year in Mexico.
To do that, though, they’ll need a lot more practice. In the meantime, Sueño Dorado tackles their other mission: spreading the word about the beautiful sport of escaramuza and keeping the century-old tradition alive in Idaho. The team performed at the Canyon County Fair in Caldwell, opened for a Spanish concert series in New Plymouth, marched in the Wagon Days parade in Ketchum and joined Dia de los Muertos celebration in full uniform.
Many Idahoans aren’t aware that local Latinos even run ranches or ride horses, the women said. They also rarely know that there are such competitive sports that draw from the rich traditions families brought with them from Mexico to Idaho. Performances in the community are a chance to introduce non-Latino Idahoans to a new side of a beloved tradition and offer Mexican-Americans another way to celebrate.
“It’s a way for us to share the culture,” Sanchez said. “Still, many people here don’t know what escaramuzas are ... we want to help people learn about our sport.”
It’s probably too soon to worry about the escaramuza culture dying, though, when there’s still a younger generation anxiously waiting for their turn. Little Paloma Sanchez, 13, and Bianca Villa, 9, spend the family gatherings at the lienzo eyeing the proceedings longingly and wearing the same blue training shirts the team does. They jump on the towering horses the second they’re able, mimicking the older girls, shouting instructions to each other in Spanish and English.
“It makes me proud that my kids and my daughter do it, too,” Sanchez said. “So the tradition isn’t lost.”
This story was originally published November 17, 2019 at 5:00 AM.
