Every year, a group of Indigenous teens takes part in a three-month program in Beaverton, Oregon, run by social worker and horse therapy counselor John Spence.

Documentary photographer Josué Rivas (Otomí/Mexica) chronicled their experience.

Dr. John Spence (Gros Ventre/Sioux), known to many as Uncle John, is an 83-year-old Fort Belknap Elder who’s had a long career in social work.

He now advocates for horse therapy in tribal communities and he credits his relationship with horses for his own decades-long sobriety.

At Forward Stride, a nonprofit horse ranch near Beaverton, Oregon, Uncle John has worked with Indigenous youth for more than 12 years.

On a July morning, a group of six boys in the equine psychotherapy program starts the day studying horses from behind a fence. Many are in foster care and have struggled with drugs or alcohol. Today’s group ranges from 10 to 16 years old.

Forward Stride instructor Shannon Tabbal Haider explains to participants how to recognize horse hide markings.

The covers protect the horses’ eyes from flies.

“His legs are hella skinny,” a young man named Rocky points out.

The kids follow Shannon to the stables, where they’ll greet their therapy partners, the horses.

A 10-year-old boy studies instructions on how to handle an equine emergency after his horse, Rune, became tired from the heat and humidity.

The boy later said a prayer for the horses and added, “Rune and his girlfriend, they’re my best friends.”

Each horse has a personalized feed bucket. Today, the boys will ride Spirit, Snickers, Oso and Rune.

The Native American Rehabilitation Association of the Northwest — NARA — funds Forward Stride’s treatment sessions and chauffeurs teens to and from the ranch.

While some youth ride in the arena, Uncle John tells his stories to the others.

“Our ancestors developed a relationship with horses,” he says. “Riding a horse, they say you’re a herd of two.”

“They hear your story and they want to be around you,” Uncle John says.

“I tell them, ‘I’m from the Fort Belknap Reservation. I rodeoed for 14 years. I’m sober for 40 years.’ If they just hear that little bit, a lot of these guys, right away they want to kind of hang out with you.”

With a hood featuring the Indigenous emblem of the sacred Four Directions, a teen looks into the eyes of Oso, a horse he’s thinking of partnering with for today’s therapy session.

But the boy ends up not riding this day. Uncle John assures his students that it’s ok not to ride, and to take things at their own pace.

Rocky says hello to Oso with a light touch.

Checking in with Oso before the “herd of two” enter the arena.

Helmet on and ready to ride.

Steadying nerves before mounting.

Rocky is in the saddle at last.

The handler releases the training lead.

Confidently riding on his own, Rocky asks bystanders, “Do you want my autograph?”

“Culture is prevention and culture is treatment,” says Uncle John. “And we tell people that and we practice that.”

On a scale of one to 10, the day has been “a 637 out of 12,” Rocky says.

“One thing I liked about today — I liked being in existence.”

Josué Rivas (Otomí and Mexica) is an Indigenous Futurist, creative director, visual storyteller and entrepreneur working at the intersection of art, technology, journalism and decolonization.

His work aims to challenge the mainstream narrative about Indigenous peoples, co-create with the community, and serve as a vehicle for transformation and collective healing.