Jessica Simpson - Take the Lead: An Essay

Text copyright 2021 Jessica Simpson

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eISBN: 9781542031868

Cover photo by Kristin Burns

Cover design by Zoe Norvell

T hese days I wake with the sense that something is about to happen. Have you felt it too? A readiness. A hopeful refocusing. Ive been journaling in the morning, while the house is still. If I start right away, I feel like my subconscious mind is open to saying something that might surprise me. Today it was, Are we all ready to make a change, like weve been saying we are? Or are we expecting life to do it for us?

I stared at the words for a momentfrom the large A to the swoop of the last question marktrying to figure out if this message was for you or for me. Lately I have been collecting moments of reflection, because I knew Id be writing to you. Little threads we might share in common. I think these questions are for both of us, because part of that collective readiness Ive been feeling is a hope for change. Yet, I know that a lot of people expect something will change for them. Theyre stuck there waiting, instead of going toward something better. Looking back at when I have been stagnant in my life, it was my fear that kept me at a standstill. Its not that I couldnt see where I needed to go. If a friend wanted to get to a place of living up to her potential, I was able to not only give her directions but also help her pick an outfit for the journey and throw the You Did It! afterparty. But I was often afraid to step into that better life myself.

So, this year I am focusing on letting go of my fearsbig and small, one by oneto get where I need to go. If I want to lead myself into something greater than yesterday, I have to surrender the things that scare me and hold me back.

That journey is what led me to invite a visitor to my home this week. Or should I say, my yard. My eight-year-old daughter, Maxwell, who was way more excited about the visit than I was, was already outside our house, calling my name. Mom, she yelled, stretching it out into two syllables, which roughly translates from kid language to hurry up.

We were set to do a photo shoot in our yard for the family business, the Jessica Simpson Collection, after the remote school day had ended. Mom, I heard again, the word now stretched to the end of an eight-year-olds patience. My daughter knows I mosey. I definitely take my time getting from one place to the other, especially when that other place is one Im nervous about. Which I was. I stalled, taking one last look in the mirror to adjust the Western-style cowgirl belt on my light-blue spring dress.

Finally, I stepped outside. And there was Maxwell, standing beside our guest for the day, a huge chocolate-brown Quarter-horse named Jesse.

Maxwell, like anyone who loves me, knows that I have spent most of my life deathly afraid of horses. Back in Texas, when I was fifteen, my cousin Sarah was killed in an accident involving a horse running onto a road. Two years older than me, Sarah was more like my best friend or big sister than a cousin, and while I dont dislike horses, Ive spent decades avoiding interacting with them. You would be surprised how many times a photographer or music video director has suggested I start a shoot or video on horseback.

Thats one idea, I would say politely.

In my yard, I observed how my body froze just seeing the horse next to Maxwell. Instead of closing my eyes and making a joke of turning around, I took a breath and looked at what was in front of me. It was late afternoon, and the light had just started to soften over the mountains behind the house. Maxwell stood, racing toward the age of ninegrowing so fast she was almost taller than me. We could already share shoes, and she was wearing the cowboy boots I wore as Daisy Duke in my first film, The Dukes of Hazzard .

Jesse is a horse that Maxwell rides every weekend, and he has become one of her best friends. We live in a semirural area of Los Angeles that has a slight feel reminiscent of old Westerns. When you enter our neighborhood, you see a sign saying, SLOW DOWN, RELAX. CHILDREN & HORSES AT PLAY. There are plenty of horse trails around the hill we live upon, and Maxwell expressed an interest in riding a horse as soon as she saw one.

We took her for a kiddie ride at a nearby stable when she was three years old. Im a cowgirl, Mommy, she said that first time in the riding ring. I smiled and white-knuckled a fence. Maxwell never wanted to ride in competitions, where she worried there would be pressure on the horse to win for her. She just wanted to ride Western styleto simply connect with the horse on the weekends in the neighborhood, without having to train them or do anything that might jeopardize their happiness. Away from me, she and Jesse have formed a bond I can only describe as friendship. They are buds.

Even though that time with Jesse was precious to her, I stayed away. I know now I was subconsciously trying to imprint my own fear onto her.

She rejected that fear. Mom, youre from Texas , she would say, assuming all Lone Star girls are born cowgirls.

Max, geography does not matter in this case.

But this was the day to confront that fear, so I could take hold of it. I walked up cautiously, still keeping my distance.

Mom, I just want you to know that a horse can feel your fear, Maxwell said.

I smiled at this girl weve raised to speak her mind. And look him in the eyes, Mommy, she continued, using the soothing voice she probably used to calm Jesse. Just tell the horse that you love him and that youre not afraid.

Im not afraid, I said, bluffing as I moved beside them. Jesse shied away for a second, and Maxwell held the leather strap hanging from his bridle. It occurred to me that I had allowed my daughter to take the lead. I was proud of her.

She looked at me, then glanced down the hill that swoops sharp and steep behind our house. You have to throw your fear over the mountain.

By now my husband, Eric, was out with our other kids, Ace and Birdie. At seven, our son, Ace, goes everywhere Eric goes. They are best friends, and I know why, since Eric is already my best friend. They are both natural athletesEric is still the stuff of Yale football legend, and Ace can hit thirty homers in forty pitches from his dadbut they also have a kindness as innate as their physical abilities.

Ace smiled at me, here for the show. He is our dreamer and shares my tendency to hang back to quietly do a character study on everybody in the room. He caught my eye, and I made a funny scared face to make him laugh. Birdie guffawed too from Erics arms, our in-house comedian at twenty-two months.

I turned to the camera, me and Maxwell on each side of the horse. But Jesse kept turning his head to look me in the eye.

Mom, the horse is wanting to talk to you, Maxwell said, insistent. He still feels youre afraid. I recognized the tone I used to guide her when she was younger, and I felt I had all the answers ready.

Okay, okay. I turned to look Jesse in his black-coffee eyes. Im not afraid, I said quickly, in the singsongy way you might recite a half-believed affirmation in the mirror. Then, softer, as I relaxed my shoulders: Im not afraid. I love you for loving my daughter and making her happy. Im sorry you and I havent met, but I love her so much. Im really proud of her.