A Transformative Year: Reflecting on 2024 

It was standing-room only, filled with breeders shoulder to shoulder, united in a common cause. The energy in the air was electric, the auctioneer’s voice carrying above the laughter and chatter. This was the Deck the Stalls Shorthorn fundraiser in Louisville—an unforgettable reminder of what community can look like in the cattle industry. That moment stood in stark contrast to many of my experiences in 2024, a year that stretched me in ways I never imagined. It taught me hard lessons about leadership, revealed the beauty of unity, and reminded me why I love cattle—and people.

A Proud Moment – A Legacy of Leadership

One of my proudest moments this year was being elected to the ABBA executive board, a historic milestone as three women were elected to serve together for the first time. Standing alongside these women, I felt immense pride—not just for myself, but for the progress of women in the livestock industry.

When I was elected, I felt a powerful mix of emotions: pride, responsibility, and a deep connection to my family’s legacy in the Brahman breed. My parents were so proud—my mom even had tears in her eyes—and I knew that this moment wasn’t just mine; it was part of a lineage of leadership. Both my dad and grandfather had served as past ABBA presidents, and stepping into this role felt like I was carrying forward a tradition.

But this opportunity wasn’t only about family. It was about serving every ABBA member and advocating for the Brahman breed as a whole. I felt an immense responsibility to ensure my voice represented the collective needs of the association, honoring its past while working toward a stronger future.

My Goals as a Leader

My experience in the Brahman breed has always been unique because of V8 Ranch. As part of one of the largest and most recognized ranches, I’ve had opportunities that many breeders don’t. I don’t take for granted that I have access to bulls like Sloan or 380 to breed to or that I can market my cattle under the V8 name—a luxury that is truly priceless.

But I also know what it’s like to be a small breeder. Personally, I own about 20 registered Brahman cows, and it’s tough to make it work. About 10 to 15 years ago, Luke and I took out an operating note, bought recips, and started rebuilding our Brahman herd. Even with the advantages of being part of V8, it’s been a long road to profitability. Those experiences have given me a deep empathy for small breeders and shaped the perspective I brought to the executive board.

My goal as a leader has always been to honor the realities of breeders of all sizes while making it clear that my journey is my own. My dad and grandfather are my mentors, and I feel incredibly fortunate to learn from their wisdom and experiences. But my path has been different. It’s important to me that people see me as my own person—not just a continuation of their legacies. I’ve always felt a need to carve out my own identity and prove that I bring my own voice to the table.

What I’ve Learned This Year

When I joined the executive board, I was perhaps foolishly optimistic that we could quickly improve the turmoil in the association. But I quickly learned that these issues weren’t going to be solved overnight—or even in one term. Over time, I realized that leadership comes in many forms, and not all styles are equally effective in every situation. Some leaders are confrontational and reactive, while others take a slower, more deliberate approach. Both styles have their place, but the challenge lies in ensuring that these differences don’t create unnecessary division.

I also learned that the loudest person in the room isn’t always the best suited for leadership. Effective leadership requires more than volume or force—it requires thoughtfulness, collaboration, and the ability to guide others toward a shared goal. I found myself talking a lot in these board meetings, and I couldn’t help but think how my dad—knowing this assertive version of me so well from years of working together in our family and business—would be poking me and telling me to zip it. He’s been dealing with my passionate, talkative side for years, and it’s a dynamic we laugh about often.

What’s funny is that while my dad would be urging me to rein it in, my mom would be proud of me for speaking up. It’s a balance I’m still trying to perfect: knowing when to listen and when to lead with my voice.

This year, I’ve gained tremendous respect for the quiet leaders on our board—those who don’t speak often, but when they do, everyone listens. They bring calm, thoughtful perspectives to even the most contentious discussions. Their leadership style is one I deeply admire and hope to incorporate more into my own approach. Passion is important, but so is the ability to pause, reflect, and let your words carry weight when it matters most.

Serving on the ABBA executive board this year taught me a lot about leadership—its challenges and its joys. Sometime this summer, another board member told me, “This isn’t fun.” And they were right—serving on a board in the purebred cattle industry, especially during difficult times, isn’t always fun. Every board member is a volunteer, taking time away from jobs and families to serve. When the atmosphere feels like a wasps’ nest, it can be disheartening.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is how important it is to serve with people who accept the decision of the majority. There were moments when I didn’t agree with the decisions of our board, but I accepted them because I respected the process and the importance of moving forward as a group. Some of our most frustrating moments were spent rehashing decisions already made by the majority, driven by individuals who were on the losing side of the vote. I didn’t expect this type of thing to take up so much of our time, but it did.

Whether in USA politics or breed association politics, it’s important to accept the results of democracy at play. You have a vote, but your vote may not always represent the majority—and that’s okay. Collaborative leadership means respecting the process and working together for the collective good, even when the outcome isn’t what you hoped for.

A Difficult Chapter

One of the harder moments of my year came after I made the recommendation for the media partners for the World Brahman Congress and the National Brahman Show. It wasn’t a decision I made alone, nor did I have a vote, but it was based on my recommendation. I knew it would be controversial. My dad even warned me that it would bring heat, and he was right. At the directors’ meeting that followed, I spent 40 minutes on stage delivering my report while enduring intense criticism. People I’ve known my entire life yelled, tempers flared, and decorum went out the window.

In the moment, as I was under fire, I wish I had thought to ask, “What do I have to gain from this decision?” The answer would have been clear to anyone who paused to consider it: nothing. The decision was made with only one priority in mind—what was best for ABBA.

What struck me most wasn’t the criticism itself but the example it set. In the audience were children—young people brought to observe leadership in action—and what they witnessed was far from inspiring. Moments like these left me reflecting on the message we send to the next generation and the importance of handling conflict constructively.

For those who followed this issue, I am pleased to report that the media plan we implemented was a success by every measure. The positive data and insights for ABBA during these events were extraordinary, with some metrics increasing by as much as 4000%. Not only were our goals exceeded, but the outcomes demonstrated that the decision was made with the best interests of ABBA at heart.

Still, the personal cost of this decision was revealing. Some of my lifelong friends were quick to distance themselves, unfriending me on social media or in real life. It was a reminder of how fragile some of these “friendships” were. It became clear that some people were ready to embrace any reason to dislike me. It took only a feather to knock them off the box. And that’s on me. How can I do better to build true, lasting friendships in this industry? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot this year.

That evening, as I recounted the day’s events with my family, Luke reminded me of something I needed to hear: “All people in leadership positions have made decisions that are criticized, have people who don’t like them, or have bad days.” It was a grounding moment that helped me see this experience in a broader context. Leadership isn’t about being liked by everyone; it’s about doing what you believe is right for the organization you serve, even when it’s hard. At the same time, I discovered a surprising silver lining: the friendships and support I gained through this experience reminded me that, even in the toughest moments, there is room for growth and connection.

The Bigger Picture

This experience made me think more deeply about the broader dynamics in our industry. At the heart of it all, we as breeders love our cattle—but more than that, we should love and support the people who share our passion. And yet, I’ll be the first to admit, there’s a lot of hate in this breed. There are several “wars” going on—between breeders, between families—and in some cases, I don’t expect a cease-fire anytime soon.

Some of these wars are probably justified. It’s not my place to tell people their grievances aren’t valid. But some of these battles lack the facts or proof to merit continuing the fight, and yet they persist. What we all need to remember is that wars always hurt people. There are innocent individuals who don’t want to be caught in the crossfire—people forced to pick sides when they don’t even have a dog in the fight. I’m guilty of this, too—of drawing people into my battles. But recognizing this truth is a step toward change.

After the meeting where I faced intense criticism over the media decision, I took a step back and removed myself from all Brahman Facebook groups. These groups had become a sounding board—not for positive change—but for pot-stirring, often by anonymous posters. This isn’t constructive.

At its peak of conflict (as far as I saw, because I left these groups in September), we were trying to find an executive vice president for ABBA. I couldn’t help but think: what if a really good candidate for this job—someone who could be exactly what we need—stumbled upon one of these Facebook groups? They would likely think, Why in the world would I want to be a part of this group?

The same thought applies to prospective Brahman families or breeders. Imagine someone whose dream is to own Brahman cattle—like my dream was to return to Shorthorns—joining a group they thought was about a shared love for the breed, only to discover it was mostly a group about hate for Brahman breeders. Why would they ever want to join?

If we truly want to grow this breed, we have to consider the bigger picture. The next generation is watching, and the way we handle conflict and build (or destroy) community matters. At the end of the day, we’re not just in the cattle business—we’re in the people business. And people deserve better.

Highlights of Gratitude: The Top Moments of 2024

Even amid the challenges, there were moments this year that reminded me why serving matters. Some of my favorite memories weren’t made in the boardroom but around the dinner table after long meetings. Sitting with other members, we laughed until tears fell, swapping stories and sharing life-changing, delicious queso. We reminisced about older Brahman breeders we remembered from years ago, and those conversations brought me new friendships and deepened my appreciation for the people in this breed.

Another unexpected highlight of the year was the ABBA 100-Year Gala. I had been pretty vocally against the idea during a past board meeting and hadn’t even planned to attend. But when a friend suggested we go and asked to sit at the V8 table, all of a sudden, we were in! Getting dressed up in a formal gown wasn’t something I had on my bingo card at 40 years old, but I had a blast and made plenty of memories. I was wrong about the gala—it ended up being one of my favorite events of the year.

One of the most exciting opportunities I had this year was serving as a judge for the Miss American Angus contest at the Angus Convention in Fort Worth. Judging what many consider the most prestigious royalty competition in the cattle industry was an honor, and I cherished my time with the fellow judges, who quickly became new friends. The event itself was nothing short of impressive: filling the Fort Worth Convention Center with enthusiastic supporters of the Angus breed. What struck me most was the energy and professionalism on display, from the poised and talented youth competing to the hardworking adults dedicating their time and effort to something they all believed in. It was a proud reminder of what our industry can accomplish when we come together.

I would be remiss not to mention another favorite part of this year: watching Knox, our son, experience so many “firsts.” From Shorthorn Junior Nationals to The American Royal and the North American in Louisville, he’s thriving in this new world—one I grew up in and an industry that has served our family so well for generations. Seeing his excitement and growth has been one of the greatest joys of the year.

2024 North American International Livestock Exposition

Finally, my dad’s induction into the livestock Hall of Fame, the Saddle & Sirloin Club, was another unforgettable moment. It was a tremendous event—a room filled with the Who’s Who of the livestock industry, coming together in support of a colleague. People traveled from all over the world to honor him, and it was a powerful reminder of what an impact a lifetime in the livestock industry can bring. I am immensely proud of my dad being part of this prestigious group of legends.

These moments gave me many reminders of what makes the cattle industry special: the shared meals, the camaraderie, and the small, quiet moments that bring people together. They renewed my hope that, with the right focus, our breed can foster a stronger sense of community in the years to come.

Throughout life, there are moments or eras we look back on and think, I’d love to go back and live that again. Experiences we were once a part of but are no longer—eras that hold such joy and nostalgia, yet seem impossible to recreate.

For my dad, I think that era is playing football. I imagine he would love to step back onto the field, but at nearly 70 years old, with old knee injuries, it’s no longer possible. Even if he could, the coaches and teammates who made that time so special aren’t all around anymore.

For Luke, it’s traveling in the livestock judging van, going from contest to contest representing Texas A&M. But even if he could return to the town, the people and the energy of that era are gone. You find yourself longing to relive a time and place that’s impossible to return to.

For me, that era has always been Shorthorn cattle. It’s been a constant pull at my heartstrings over the years, a piece of my life I thought I might never be part of again. But unlike other eras, this one was possible to return to. And I’m thrilled to say, the people are still there.

This idea of returning to Shorthorns is something I’ve explored at length in a previous blog post, which, by the way, was printed in the Shorthorn Country magazine in their November issue. Seeing my story featured in the magazine was a tremendous honor and a testament to how much this return has meant to me.

To my Brahman friends, I know you’re tired of hearing me talk about Shorthorns. But think about it in terms of how we can harness these same feelings and attract people to the Brahman breed. What if someone new to Brahmans felt this same joy, nostalgia, and connection to our breed? What if we created an environment where they were just as excited to join us?

I’m having the time of my life being back with the Shorthorn people, reconnecting with a community that feels like home. It’s a rare gift to step back into a world you loved and find that it still fits perfectly. But my heart will always be with Brahman cattle, too—and my hope is that we can make our breed just as welcoming, inspiring, and full of life for others.

Wrapping it Up: Full Circle

As I reflect on 2024, I see a year of challenges, revelations, and growth. It was a year that stretched me in ways I never imagined, yet also reminded me of the unshakable foundation of this industry: the people and the shared passion that unites us.

That moment at Louisville’s Deck the Stalls—the energy, the camaraderie, the collective purpose—remains a vivid reminder of what’s possible when we come together. It’s that sense of unity that I hope to carry forward into 2025 and beyond, not just for myself but for the entire cattle industry.

Building a future like that won’t happen overnight, and it won’t happen with divisive leaders at the helm. Leaders who thrive on conflict, stirring up division for personal gain, have no place in fostering the kind of collaboration this industry needs. Real leadership requires humility, a focus on the greater good, and a willingness to build bridges instead of walls.

My love for this industry runs deep—it’s woven into the fabric of my identity, my family’s legacy, and the foundation of everything we’ve built at V8 Ranch. But beyond the cattle, it’s the people and the community that give this work its purpose. 

Here’s to the lessons of 2024 and the hope of a brighter, more unified future. Let’s take those steps together.