Polo might conjure images of British royalty and aristocratic leisure, but for 62-year-old Qian Qiqi, it became something far deeper — a path to self-discovery, empowerment, and emotional strength. Once a flight attendant with China Airlines and later a full-time mother, Qian didn’t truly find her sense of self until she picked up a mallet and mounted a horse. Now, she proudly calls herself a polo player, a title she wears with more pride than any she held before.
At the California Polo Club, where she trains and competes, Qian’s transformation is on full display. Wearing athletic gear and exuding confidence, she cuts a powerful figure on the sand-covered arena field. “You need full-body strength to play polo,” she says. “That’s why I hit the gym regularly — being strong keeps me safe in the saddle.”
But for Qian, polo is not just a physical sport — it’s a mental and emotional discipline. “If you panic, the horse can sense it,” she explains. “What I’ve learned from polo is to face life with courage and calm, no matter what comes my way.”
From elegant housewife to fearless competitor
Qian’s journey reflects a quiet determination to live with purpose and strength on her own terms. Years ago, she followed her husband on an overseas posting to Shanghai. As a dependent spouse with no work permit, she drifted into a life that felt aimless, surrounded by housekeepers, school volunteer duties, and family obligations.
“I realized that if I continued living only for my sons, my husband, and my helpers, I’d eventually become a burden when the nest emptied,” she says.
Her turning point came when she read Save Me the Waltz, a 1932 novel by Zelda Fitzgerald, wife of The Great Gatsby author F. Scott Fitzgerald. The novel’s protagonist, like Qian, felt stuck in her role as wife and mother — until she took up ballet at 40. Inspired, Qian chose polo at 50.
“I saw myself in that story,” she recalls. “I didn’t want to fade into the background. I wanted to feel strong, relevant, and alive.”
An ancient game with modern meaning
Though often seen as elite, polo is one of the oldest team sports in human history. It flourished during China’s Tang Dynasty (A.D. 618-907), and today in California, it’s enjoyed by everyone from college students to seasoned players like Qian.
The unique challenge of polo lies in its dual coordination — working with human teammates and with one’s equine partner. The game demands balance, strategy, timing, and above all, trust.
At the California Polo Club, legendary coach Domingo Questel — a former USPA Player of the Year and lifelong polo devotee — shares his love for the sport. “Once you start playing, you’ll be hooked,” he laughs. “You feel the thrill, and everything else just fades away.”
Grace, grit, and team spirit over ego
Qian emphasizes that despite the adrenaline and competition, safety and sportsmanship always come first. “Sometimes, you have to give up a chance to shine for the safety of everyone on the field,” she says. “That’s what makes polo a sport of true nobility — not the players’ titles, but their self-control.”
It’s not about glory at all costs. It’s about grace under pressure, and learning to listen — to your horse, to your teammates, and to your inner voice.
And while the sport may seem exclusive, Qian insists it’s more accessible than people think. “Polo lessons here are cheaper than golf, scuba diving, skiing, or even some gym memberships,” she explains. “You don’t need a title — just passion.”
Bringing the spirit of polo home
Qian’s mission now goes beyond her own journey. She dreams of bringing polo to Taiwan, where the sport remains virtually unknown. This October 10th, for Taiwan’s National Day, she’s organizing a demonstration match in Southern California, where the Republic of China flag will be raised on the polo field — a symbolic gesture blending tradition, identity, and empowerment.
Through her story, Qian Qiqi shows that it’s never too late to rewrite your narrative, break free of expected roles, and gallop fearlessly into the life you choose for yourself. Polo may have started as a royal pastime, but for Qian, it became a personal revolution.
Translated article
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