Written by Janey McGill
Rules were meant to broken growing up. There was no room for fear. An emotion rejected by my parents, more so, my late Dad. Far from vanilla, there was constant excitement, uncertainty, stimulation and change within my family.
In the latter years however, confusion reigned. Bought up in an alpha male environment I absorbed many of those behaviors, and sometimes, chauvinist ‘traditional’ beliefs. Yet, all the time, housed in a women’s body, expected to fulfil a female role; 9-5, marriage, children.
In my late twenties I began to question these expectations, these beliefs. They didn’t work for me and I rebelled against them.
Studying to be a lawyer, the idea of life in an office petrified me. I found the Army at a recruitment talk. It was not only a calling but an escape. A lifestyle which would offer me belonging and duty. Joining the reserves proved that point for me. I loved serving, either rolling in the mud or on ceremonial duties in the City of London, it fulfilled me to be part of something bigger than myself.
Working in an office for two years, despite my green training, challenged me. The monotony suffocated me. Deeply seeking excitement, I requested permission from the commanding office to represent the Regiment in the Royal Artillery Gold Cup at Sandown Park. No soldier or officer had ridden in the Regimental silks. Going for glory, I began training on Epsom Downs.
Freedom in the early mornings from the grind. I was hooked. Racehorses a drug to me.
One morning Dad accompanied me to the gallops. He always told me if I ride a horse that isn’t my own, I’d get hurt. I ignored him. He grew to be enthusiastic about the idea of racing. That morning of August 17, 2010 his old point was proved. Pinning me to the ground, blood pouring from my mouth, gurgling from my lungs; he thought his little girl was going to die.
Shattering my plans and five vertebrae I then travelled an interesting path. All I was working towards was gone. My career in the military, my hobby and passion. In hindsight rebuilding and overcoming that grief took the best part of a decade.
Refusing to work in an office I established a travelling art gallery with a friend. We converted a 7.5 tonne lorry into a chic fine art gallery. Life on the road in the summer months. Living hand to mouth, getting creative with little money and exploring the art of smoke and mirrors kept me on my toes.
Five years later the gallery was evolving in a way that no longer served me and I went my own way. A relationship finished that turned my views on childhood and marriage upside down. Not wanting either. What would my legacy be? I considered my legacy could be in life modelling, I could remain within art. Motionless in contorted positions took me to magical places, meeting fascinating people. An alternative endurance than I’d experienced in the Army.
The wheels came off for me at this point. Not knowing where I belonged, not having a sense of purpose. A misfit. I went searching. The gaps from not serving whilst friends were fighting in Afghanistan took its toll. Feeling huge guilt, I undertook the South West Coast Path, planting sunflower seeds for the severely wounded soldiers from the Campaign. Hoping for an epiphany that never came, I felt lost once again.
Leaving London, I headed for the sanctuary of a friend’s farm in mid Devon. The time had come to go back to basics experimenting. Working in bars, clubs, cabinet makers, spending time in the countryside, learning to play jazz piano. I spent a huge amount of time alone and reflecting, planning and trying to understand what the hell was going on.
I met a chap when I was in Devon and considered he might be the answer. I followed him back to London. He encouraged me to get a ‘normal’ job to attempt a rewire and to regulate myself. I worked in an estate agent and hated it. Ultimately, I got the sack and so did the boyfriend. The boss knew my heart was not in the work. It was during that nine-month period that I decided to walk the largest sand desert in the World, the Empty Quarter, in the Middle East. I locked myself away and built a personal website, I needed a shop front.
I had been taken to Oman a couple of years prior by the chap that turned my views on children and marriage around in 2012. He was an officer in the SAS, he had served in the Middle East. I had always been fascinated by the mystery of the region, so different to what I know. Reported in the press so negatively with so much conflict and oppression. I asked myself, ‘is it really like what they say it is in the papers?’ I wanted to see for my own eyes and not rely on hearsay from others.
I was scared but going with this officer seemed like a pretty safe bet. I fell in love with the country and the people. Increasingly I wanted to explore human relationships, conflict, culture, religion and gender. In hindsight I wanted to explore my own past, beliefs and conditioning.
The desert felt to me like the perfect platform to do that. Stripped bare of any creature comforts, of any societal norms. We would be making our own routine. A team of people, my own mini army, coming together with a shared goal of delivering the message that we are better together regardless of culture, gender and identity differences. I wanted to make a film documenting the achievements and the conversations of my team of Omani women who would walk the 800kms through the desert supported by an Omani and British man.
I planned for approximately two years to reach the desert. For most of that planning I escaped to rural SW France to care for a blind dog and eight horses for a private family. The plans were very much an evolution of chance meetings and knocking on doors. Some of which opened and some that did not. Land Rover MENA very much believed in the concept and agreed to sponsor the expedition with two Land Rover Discoveries, and I would provide footage for a short film (later released on International Women’s Day 2020).
I kept the expedition from my Dad, knowing that he would steer me away from my path, for the fear that he would likely hold for his daughter to disappear into an unknown hostile land. A couple of months before I departed when plans were as in place as they could be, I told him. He was in the latter stages of cancer at the time. When I left in November 2018 I did not know if I would see him again. It was a tough decision to make but I had to go for myself and my longing for purpose and where I might fit and want to say to the World.
The physical aspect of the journey was not the challenge for me. It was the people, it was my weaknesses, which I was well aware of: people pleasing, a lack of belief in myself and my need for approval from men (or really my father). I had been working on these issues, but they came to the surface with vengeance and I was completely exposed. Members of my team triggered uncomfortable truths in me. With time I was able to understand the lessons that I learnt from the relationships I had with my teammates.
We did achieve our goal and it certainly was not without struggle. Returning from the Middle East my Dad went into a hospice for three months and never left. The emotions experienced were not dissimilar to what I had felt in the desert. I was joining him on his final adventure and mine was only just beginning to take shape.
There was a freedom in his death. Freedom from expectation. That was difficult to come to terms with when you love someone so much. He was a profoundly influential character in my life and one of my most challenging relationships that I continue to learn from.
The last eighteen months have been spent reflecting deeply on my upbringing both familial and societal and on the events that occurred in the desert and what that meant to me moving forwards. It was a steep learning curve and one for which I am incredibly grateful for. I certainly feel stronger mentally as a result and have a greater understanding of myself and others.
Currently I am in a new phase and thrilled to be part of someone else’s vision. Eighty-One Racing Heroes, a racing team which gives injured veterans a future in motorsport. It is evolving all the time and we are now looking to level the playing field in motorsport with rising young talent, men, women, disabled and able-bodied drivers. I’m helping to establish the team and the infrastructure, but I will also shortly be embarking on a racing career myself within the team, swapping horses for cars.
We keep moving forwards. #bettertogether
Janey McGill was serving in the British Army reserves and studying to be a lawyer when she wrestled with a racehorse and fractured five vertebrae, cutting her military career short. This took her down an eclectic path in search for purpose & belonging. This year sees her join forces with Eighty-One Racing Heroes.