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life
nities are concentrated in
cities rather than in
the countryside,’ says
Khadijah. ‘There aren’t
the same opportunities
for horse-riding.’
Khadijah might never
have sat on a horse herself,
were it not for a pioneering
charity in South London.
The Ebony Horse Club was
founded in Brixton to offer
inner-city kids the chance to have
riding lessons — her interest was
sparked by family trips to stables,
where she’d watched young riders.
It could hardly be further from the
Thelwell cartoon image of privileged,
wealthy young gals trotting around
on ponies bought by Daddy.
Khadijah, who had pestered her
parents to let her go riding, but
accepted that travelling to the Kent
countryside for lessons was not
realistic, (and dizzily expensive),
went on a two-year waiting list
before she got a place. As soon as
she started lessons in her early teens
she was smitten.
It still tickles her that people
express surprise that there are riding
lessons available in Brixton, not a
postcode normally associated with
the equine set. ‘Most people see us
out and ask if the horses are police
horses,’ she giggles. ‘Was I police? Do
I look like police?’
No, but she doesn’t look like a
jockey either — and it’s this precon-
ception that is now being challenged.
When the opportunity came for her
to enter the Magnolia Cup, and start
training on a proper racehorse at
Newmarket, under expert instruc-
tion (in the form of Hayley Turner,
British racing’s most successful
female jockey), she leaped at it.
It was only four months ago that
her race training began, and right up
until last week’s race she had
galloped only ‘two or three times’.
‘During training, we only really went
up to 25mph which is a canter,’ she
says. ‘During the race, I was going as
fast as I’ve ever gone, 42mph.’T
HAT doesn’t sound fast in a car,
but sitting astride a powerful
horse, with nothing to keep you
from falling but your skill,
strength and nerve, is another thing
altogether. Yes, she was terrified, she
admits, but exhilarated.
‘If you are going at that speed you
are usually in a car, but on a horse
you have none of the protection
around you so you feel every move-
ment of the horse under you. I’m still
not used to that so there was an
element of panic, but also such a
buzz. The buzz was unreal.’
Thankfully, her hijab didn’t budge.
In training she had found her normal
everyday hijab to be problematic. ‘It
has so many layers that it flapped
under the helmet,’ she admits. A
more streamlined, and less distract-
ing, solution came in the form of a
sports hijab from Nike.
Her horsemanship was certainly
impressive, and the fact that she
beat riders who have been takinglessons since a young age (Olympic
cyclist Victoria Pendleton was among
the 12-strong field, as was Irish
model Vogue Williams) suggests she
has natural ability.
Khadijah’s a little hesitant to put
herself forward as some sort of sport-
ing icon, but does say that she’d be
happy if her own triumph inspired
other girls, especially Muslim girls.S
HE says: ‘If I can be a role
model to even one girl, then
that is great. Although that’s
not how all this began. It just
started because I like horses, and I
wanted to ride.’
Actually, she is an impressive role
model, a shining example of how
excellence in sport doesn’t need to
have anything to do with back-
ground, race or culture.
Perhaps the most positive aspect
of her story is that it doesn’t sound
as if she has had to struggle to gain
recognition. She only had to push
open the doors that others had
unlocked. Hers is a story of how
community initiatives to increase
inclusivity in sport actually work.
Khadijah was born in South
London. Her mother is from Kenya;
her father from Algeria. The pair
moved to London more than 20 years
ago, and had four children. Khadijah
is the second oldest.
She was always sporty, and began
to get involved in community events
at an age where she was too young
even to question whether her chosen
sports were those normally associ-
ated with Muslim girls. She says her
parents were always very accepting
of whatever she, her sister and two
brothers wanted to try.
She loved cricket and was a
member of the all-girl cricket club at
school, and bemoans the fact it had
to be disbanded when too many of
the other girls just lost interest (the
exodus of teenage girls from sport is
a problem across the board, regard-
less of religion or background).
Then she discovered rowing —
which was an eye-opener. The club
was based in nearby affluent
Dulwich, and sessions were not
ethnically inclusive. She immediately
noticed it. ‘You do. You realise there
are not people who look like you.’
Here, her hijab most definitely
stood out — and threatened to get in
the way, quite literally.
‘I was still wearing my every day
hijab which is held together with oneG
ALLOPING to victory in your
very first horse-race, going
faster than you’ve ever
ridden in your life, is a
giddying experience.
That’s exactly what newbie jockey Khadijah
Mellah did when she crossed the line at Good-
wood races last week, to scoop the famous
Magnolia Cup.
But this wasn’t just an important race for
18-year-old Khadijah herself, it was a signifi-
cant one for the racing world, perhaps for the
whole country. Khadijah was the first female
Muslim jockey to take part in such a race wear-
ing a hijab. So all eyes were understandably on
her. All eyes except her father’s, she reveals.
‘We discovered later he got confused between
the silks, and he was following the wrong horse
and rider,’ she admits, with a laugh. ‘He
thought I’d come last and said: “Oh well, never
mind.” Everyone else was saying: “No, no, she’s
won. She’s won.” He said: “No way!” ’
He will never live that down, but one suspects
Mr Mellah, who works as a handyman in
Khadijah’s native Peckham, South London,
will soon be up to speed with exactly how
things work in the horse-racing world.
Khadijah, who will be off to university in
September to study mechanical engineering
(‘exam results permitting,’ she warns) also
hopes to get her amateur racing licence,
putting her on the path, perhaps, to a longer-
term association with horse-racing.
But although the race she competed in last
week was very much in the novice bracket —
the ladies-only Magnolia Cup is a charity
event, fielding amateur riders — it was also a
groundbreaking one. Not that Khadijah knew
any of this when she signed up. She just
wanted to ride horses, like many young girls.
‘There was a bit of media interest and some-
one asked me about being the first Muslim
woman. I wasn’t aware that I was, until it was
mentioned. Then I started looking into it.
There have been other female Muslim jockeys,
but in Qatar and Bahrain. Not in the UK, as
far as we know.’
Why not, you have to ask? Why is the sight ofa jockey in a hijab so unusual? Well, the
reasons are myriad. First, the Muslim
community doesn’t traditionally follow
horse-racing, because of the connec-
tion to gambling.
Nor are Muslim faces necessarily
represented in the wider horsey world.
‘That’s probably got a lot to do with
the fact that British Muslim commu-by Jenny
Johnston
(^) Daily Mail, Wednesday, August 7, 2019
a jockey in a hijab so unusual? Well the
Daily Mail, Wednesday, August 7, 2019
to have
est was
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Triumph: Khadijah celebrates
after her race win (top) and
with her parents (above)
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