There once was a lonely horse in the African Savannah. Although she was the most beautiful yearling in the herd, with her long mane and golden coat that glistened in the sun, she had been alone for so long and desired friends. She had not had companions since she took the long journey ahead of her herd to the Southern Pasture. As she arrived to the pasture she saw, others in the distance, but they were not like her. They were shorter than all the horses she had ever seen. They had black manes that stuck straight up, and their bodies were striped with black bands over their otherwise white fur. As the horse trotted down to them, the zebras began to turn their backs to her. She asked one of the zebras what she had to do to be welcomed.
The zebra told her, “If you want to be one of us, you have to look like us. Go paint stripes on your back and then you may join our herd.”
The horse felt like she was betraying her kind; it was almost like she was leaving one world and entering another. Although she was fearful of this new world, she did as the zebra said, and when she saw herself in the stream she whinnied excitedly, “They will have to accept me now! I look just like them.” When the horse returned to the herd of zebras, they began to walk away from her, and she was confused.
She asked another zebra, “Why are you going away. I did as you said, and now look like you.”
The zebra replied, “You still are different. You need to cut your mane. Then you will truly be welcome.” The horse, though she wanted to be accepted, was very sad and afraid to cut her mane.
“Why must I change for them? Aren’t I good enough as just me?” She sighed and gulped hard, feeling a pang of pain rise in her chest. A horse’s mane was their pride and honor. As her cream colored hair fell from her long neck to the ground, she gasped and blinked back her tears. Her mane was now only a few inches long. She returned to the meadow where she had met the zebras. As she approached them, they began to laugh at her.
She asked the first zebra, “Why are you still not excepting me. I have done everything you asked. I painted stripes on my body and cut my mane so I would be one of you.”
The zebra snickered, “You could never be one of us. You cannot change your coat color, shrink to our size, or make your mane stand. Go away. We don’t want you here.”
The horse galloped away as fast as she could. She was humiliated and could not understand why she was not good enough. She fled to the forest and tried to turn white and make her mane stand, but she did not succeed. When she came back to try once more to join the zebras’ herd, they refused her. Just when she had lost all hope of ever being welcome, another majestic horse trotted into the field. This horse was familiar. He was from her herd, and had been born only a few days before her in the Eastern Meadow.
He asked her, “Why have you cut your mane and paint on stripes? Are you not proud of being a horse?”
“I am, but the zebras told me to be welcome I had to change, but they still won’t befriend me” the other horse replied with sorrow.
“You used to be the most beautiful and magnificent mare in the herd. Now you have cut your mane and dulled your coat. You were great before; don’t ever change yourself for others. You are perfect the way you are.”
The horse trotted off to wash her fur and returned herself glimmering coat and all. Her mane grew but would never be as long as if she had not cut it. This served as remembrance of her promise to herself that she would never try to change who she was for anyone, as she had the zebras, ever again. The other horses loved her for who she was, and she knew that if someone asked her to change, they were not true friends.