Dianne Lucas Luppi, 68, from Malanda, Queensland, shares her story:
My heart was racing as I ran as fast as my little legs could.
I’d been picking mushrooms with my older brother and sister in a paddock in Mount Gambier, SA, when a horned beast charged towards us.
At three years old, I had no chance of outrunning a bull, but my brother and sister pulled me under a barbed-wire fence to safety.
One day, I’m not going to be afraid of you, I thought, staring back at the bull.
This memory came back to me when I spotted the bulls at a rodeo years later.
I was 12 and about to compete in my first poddy calf ride, where the goal was to hold on for eight seconds while the calf being ridden thrashed about – a feat no kid had managed. I’d always loved riding horses but knew this would really get my blood pumping.
I felt no fear sitting on the calf as it threw me back and forth, just an immense sense of freedom.
Dianne would go on to ride bulls (Image: supplied)
After eight long seconds, the siren sounded.
I’d won!
The marshall who presented my trophy asked for my name.
“Oh, I thought you were a boy,” he replied once I told him.
My short hair often led people to make this mistake.
He was reluctant to hand over the trophy once he realised I was a girl until a couple of cowboys convinced him.
“Give it to her,” one said. “She rode the best.”
I was hooked.
But the Australian Rough Riders Association didn’t allow women in bull riding competitions.
At a rodeo (Image: supplied)
At 16, I was tall, flat-chested and had a fairly deep voice so I was still often mistaken for a boy.
So I decided to join the association in Perth, WA, as a male.
“My name’s Deat,” I told officials.
Sitting on a wild steer was an incredible adrenaline rush and I loved the challenge. I rode in a few rodeos around WA and managed to stay on more often than not.
Then one day, at an event, I faced a dilemma – I needed to use the loo.
I couldn’t go to the women’s toilets as Deat and using the men’s would be too risky.
So I snuck just outside the grounds and squatted behind a truck.
Seconds later, a stock contractor caught me.
“You’re a girl!” he exclaimed.
Dianne campdrafting (Image: supplied)
He told the officials, who disqualified me from the competition.
I was disappointed but undeterred.
Although I couldn’t compete, I could do exhibition bull rides, which weren’t scored.
At 19, I got married and had my son, Colin.
The marriage only lasted a year, as we weren’t compatible.
A couple of years later, I met my second husband and had my daughter, Natalie.
I was desperately unhappy in that marriage.
“Mum, why don’t we just leave?” Colin, five, asked one day.
“I can’t,” I explained. “I’ve got no money.”
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I’ll get a job and look after you.”
Natalie and Colin (Image: supplied)
His sweet words broke my heart.
After four-and-a-half years, enough was enough.
I sold my beautiful horse to buy plane tickets for the kids and me to start a new life in Queensland.
We settled in Innisfail, Qld, and a kind neighbour looked after Colin and Natalie while I worked as a barmaid.
The next year, the Mount Garnet Rodeo was on.
By now, in 1984, a different association had taken over the bull riding events.
They accepted my nomination and I became the first woman to compete against men in Open Bull Riding at the rodeo.
I could feel all eyes on me as I mounted the most temperamental bull in the pack.
Four-and-a-half seconds later, I hit the ground, determined to do better next time.
Dianne was finally allowed to compete (Image: supplied)
For the next four years, I competed in any bull riding events I could, with Colin and Natalie cheering me on.
“Good on ya, Mum!” they’d yell.
During a rodeo in 1988, my leg got caught on the gate and I was dragged off the bull.
I asked to go again and lasted 7.5 seconds before hitting the ground so hard it winded me.
I’d decided, at 34, this would be my last bull ride.
It’d cause too much damage to my body if I continued.
From there, I focused my attention on horses instead and competed in showjumping and campdrafting events.
I also met my husband, Peter, 75, a wonderful man who’s always supported me.
I’ve faced many challenges through my life.
In 1999, Colin was diagnosed with leukaemia.
He died seven years later at the age of 32.
Trying to fathom that I’d never see my son again was unbearable.
Dianne faced health struggles (Image: supplied)
In 2016, I had spinal fusion surgery and ended up in the ICU after doctors discovered I had a perforated bowel.
I got septicaemia, was put in an induced coma and on life support for 73 days.
I’ve been battling kidney failure ever since and have regular dialysis treatments.
Recently, I got a call from an author named Frances Dall’Alba.
“I’d like to write a story based on your life,” she said.
A lot of my experiences as a bull rider became the inspiration for her fictional book, Eight Seconds.
Dianne’s life inspired a book by Frances Dall’Alba
Despite my hardships there have also been many happy times.
Today, my daughter Natalie, step-daughter Kerryn, grandchildren Sunny, 16, and Jada, 12, and step-grand-daughter Bryony, 16, are the light of my life.
My grandchildren are proud to hear about their grandma’s bull riding achievements.
“That’s so cool, Ma!” Jada said when she heard I was featured in the Women’s Museum of Australia’s HerStory Archive for pioneer women and in the Australian Stockman’s Hall of Fame.
My positive attitude has helped me through the hardest times.
I’m a firm believer that it’s up to you to make the best of your life and never let fear or silly sexist rules stop you from following your dreams.
Dianne’s daughter Natalie, and her kids Jada and Sunny (Image: supplied)
