Among the dust plumes, dancing ropes and stomping hooves of the charrería—Mexico’s equestrian national sport—is a lesser-known event, exclusively for women, called escaramuza, where cowgirls blend equestrian mastery with choreography, poise and pageantry. In 2024, photographer and filmmaker Adam Prieto began documenting Arquetzalli Plata, an escaramuza team based in California. Here, Prieto tells writer Gem Fletcher how, as he established a deeper connection with the team of women, he uncovered a story of strength, empowerment and togetherness that reconnected him to his roots.
We’re so divided right now in the United States, watching rodeo culture unite people feels particularly rare.
“La Luna Escondida” (The Hidden Moon), Adam Prieto’s documentation of the escaramuza, stemmed from one goal: reconnecting with his Mexican-American heritage. After attending his first rodeo in Montana and being struck by how the event connected different types of people, he began researching the history of rodeo culture. It didn’t take long before Prieto uncovered the charrería, Mexico’s national sport.
“We’re so divided right now in the United States, watching rodeo culture unite people feels particularly rare,” says the San Francisco-based photographer and filmmaker. “My second rodeo was a charrería in California, and it’s hard to articulate how profound the experience was. I became incredibly emotional while I watched the charros (cowboys) and listened to Spanish being spoken all around me against a backdrop of mariachi music and stomping horses. It all felt familiar despite it being my first time at a charrería. This culture was in my blood, and I wanted to reclaim this part of myself.”
Prieto grew up in a very traditional Mexican family in Hollister, California, and from a young age was always experimenting with the family camcorder, making movies with friends and capturing his local environment. During his teenage years he began to develop significant insecurities about being Mexican, a direct result of experiencing marginalization and profiling both out in the world and in high school. His coping mechanism was rebellion, pushing his heritage as a first-generation Mexican-American to one side. This resistance continued into his early twenties until he began feeling a strong pull to reconcile his relationship with his identity and reconnect with his roots.
Prieto became captivated by the escaramuza, a lesser-known rodeo event in which an ensemble of eight women ride side-saddle in a complex choreographed performance blending synchronization, speed and pageantry. Adorned in elaborate Adelita dresses—honoring the female soldiers who fought during the Mexican Revolution—teams compete across the United States and Mexico, hoping to make it to the National Charro Championship, a raucous month-long rodeo in Zacatecas.
Prieto has spent the last year documenting Arquetzalli Plata, a team of escaramuza based outside Stockton, California. He attended practices, competitions and family gatherings, immersing himself in the sport’s rich heritage and capturing the discipline, passion, love and commitment that the sport demands. The team trains three times a week for three hours, often attending a weekend-long boot camp if there’s a competition. Being an escaramuza is not for the faint of heart; it requires a careful balance of endurance, power and grace from both horse and rider to perform the routine with pace and precision.
“You feel the adrenaline kick in when you’re about to compete,” explains Zayra Valentina Heredia, who started training as an escaramuza when she was 13 and was previously the captain of Arquetzalli Plata. “I just can’t explain the feeling. When we ride out, I can’t hear the announcements or the crowd; I’m laser-focused on the eight of us. You have to be if you want to win,” says Heredia, who has seen the team successfully reach the nationals in Mexico. “We are more than a team. We’re a family. We support each other in all areas of our lives.”
At first glance, Prieto’s images portray a regal vision of the escaramuza. Bright embroidery, sharp sombreros and intricate hand-tied bows illustrate the beauty of their pageantry and poise. As you move through the series, quiet moments are replaced with an energetic rush. Layers of crinoline and plumes of dust fill the frame as the team gallops around the arena at speed. Prieto makes poetry out of these opposing forces, teasing out both the ordinary and fantastical aspects of the sport.
The tradition of escaramuza—and charrería culture at large—is a tradition passed down between generations. “My father was a charro, and I’ve watched him ride since I was a little girl and always wanted to be part of that,” says Marisol Tovar de Esparza, who is a member of Arquetzalli Plata and had the opportunity to become an escaramuza at 19. “When I was invited to join a team, I took it very seriously because I finally felt like I found out who I was. At that time, I was in school and working two jobs while commuting to practice multiple times a week. It was a big sacrifice, but being an escaramuza was a huge part of my life.”
When Esparza met her husband, a charro, she took a break from the sport to start a family, but the calling to be an escaramuza never went away. “Part of me was missing during my time having children, but the team never gave up on me and supported me in riding again.
There was an instant connection when my husband bought me a new horse, Poppies. I knew I could trust her. She’s like my best friend and has made me feel like myself again after so many years. Being an escaramuza is a home away from home.”
While the project’s title, “La Luna Escondida,” goes some way to capture the majesty of this lesser-known sport and sisterhood, it also reflects Prieto’s journey, uncovering deep emotions as he reconnects with his roots. Together, they tell a story about tradition and passion, proudly announcing to the world who they are and where they came from despite living in an era of division and uncertainty.
Director of Photography: J.P. Emodi