Legend has it women born in the year of the Fire Horse are a bit much. The Fire Horse I’m referring to isn’t just any horse. Don’t mistake Fire Horse with air, water, wood, metal and earth horses. Those elements refer to the sexagenary cycle. This Fire Horse is far more complicated.

The Fire Horse, hinoe-uma in Japanese, is one of the twelve Chinese/Japanese zodiac signs. It is the only sign in the Chinese/Japanese zodiac that gets special recognition: The year of the special fire horse Hinoe-uma is celebrated every 60 years. Yes, all zodiac signs have a twelve-year cycle, and yes, they all eventually end up in a 60-year cycle. The horse sign is the only one that receives the honor of celebration and recognition every 60 years. All other signs get no special attention. Fire Horses are special. Children born in the year of the hinoe-uma are special. Containing their fire is an impossibility. Fire Horses personify strength and strong-willed characters. Sounds great? It is. Unless you’re a girl.

2026 is the most recent year of this special Fire Horse. 1966 was the year of the last Fire Horse. Japan’s birth rate dropped in 1966 because a girl born in 1966 was bad luck. I was born in 1966. (Of course I was.)

As a Fire Horse born and raised in Japan, I was made keenly aware of my status. As a Fire Horse girl, I was a problem; I would surely grow up to become even more of a problem. Strong-willed, opinionated, stubborn, full of fire, I am a Ferrari. As a child, I was keenly aware it would surely be very difficult for me to marry. I was too much of everything bad. In 1960s and 1970s Japan, strong-willed girls were not meant to be successful business executives, diplomats, activists. Marry early, have kids, serve husband—that was expected of us.

Why would girls born in the hinoe-uma year be a problem? We are strong (too strong), stubborn at levels defying understanding (annoyingly so), head-strong (we have our own opinions, and we’re not afraid to share), and feisty (a handful).

The Fire Horse is often symbolized with its front two hooves on the ground, the rear two kicking up in the air. Someone decided this image meant Fire Horse girls would grow into women who would kick their husbands out of their homes. Someone else decided it personified these same girls killing their husbands. Either way, girls born in the Year of the Fire Horse are difficult to handle. My my.

 

Oddly, but not really, living among the people so genetically homogenous, as a white gaijin girl, I did not blend in. Every time I left the house, I was made keenly aware of my otherness. Surely, I could add Fire Horse to my list of otherness traits, yes? Why not?

In second grade, my friend from Japanese elementary school Megumi confided in me that she was actually born in January 1966, and not December 1965 as her birth certificate suggested. “My grandmother told my father to register my birth in the previous year.”

The seven-year-old me did not understand this. I went home that night and asked my parents what it meant. My father, laughing, said, “It’s to avoid any complications when it came time to marry.” My mother glared at him.

“What does that mean?” I asked. My mother, still glaring at my father with a look screaming “don’t-you-dare-tell-our-daughter-she’s-a-handful-because-of-the-year-she-was-born” took over the explaining.

“When you were about 10 months old, we were living in the little two-room house in our landlord’s garden—you don’t remember this—our landlord’s family loved you so much. You were fussed over all the time. Anyway, you were scooting around our tiny home in your donut-shaped walker…”

“You were a speed demon already!” My father interrupted.

“…when your walker with you in it, crashed onto the concrete floor of our genkan, our tiny front entrance. Your father picked you up while you screamed holy terror and we both noticed you had a long scrape down your nose. It was a scrape and not a gash. That’s important.”

“Fire Horse baby!” My father chided, as if that explained anything to me.

“That Sunday when we took you to church, the older ladies who thought you were the cutest, stood around you aghast.”

The women said, “Her nose is damaged! She will not be able to marry!”

Mom continued. “There were gasps and hands flew to mouths covering the shock and horror of the damaged baby you were. They fussed and fussed and I was disgusted. It was a scrape, not a wound that would leave a scar. Besides, you weren’t even twelve-months old. By the time you would marry, there’d be no sign of it.”

“You didn’t like being fussed over,” my father added. “You would bury your head into my neck so they couldn’t touch you. On this particular day, you and your banged up nose the topic of serious concern, and I said something I probably shouldn’t have.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“I said you were a hinoe-uma.”

I said to the women, “She’s already prone to being strong-willed and…” but before I could finish, the women gasped louder in shock.

“Oh, NO!”

 “She will definitely have a hard time marrying!”

“A girl born in the year of Fire Horse will be bad luck. She’s sure to be challenging.”

Dad repeated what the women had said on that Sunday in varying Japanese female voices.

“It was not funny,” my mother said.

“It was,” my father replied. “Sort of. C’mon. You’ve got to admit those women were over the top.”

Megumi’s birth year was changed intentionally from 1966 to 1965 so she could avoid the fate of being “too much” and “unmarry-able”. Later, another friend, Yukari, would tell me her birthday of December 3, 1966, was turned into January 3, 1967, for the same reason.

 

Japan celebrated the new year on January 1^st, and China celebrated it on February 17^th in 2026. Social media is rife with messages of what this year holds in store for us. The social media message is clear and consistent: The year of the Fire Horse is going to kick-start something big. Okay. I don’t mind that. What the predictions get wrong is noteworthy. 2026 will be a unique year not because Saturn is transitioning to Aries, a cosmic cleansing is underway, or because we are shedding our skin from the year of the snake from 2025. The hinoe-uma is special because of the recognition it gets at its 60-year cycle.

For the women born in 1966 who grew up being told we were too much of everything, at 60, we can now revel in the glory of our uniqueness and unusual strengths. Fire Horse women born in 1966 have paved the way for Fire Horse girls born in 2026. To the girls born in 2026, may no one tell you that you will be difficult to marry off. May no one tell you to sit down and be quiet. May people refer to you as a Ferrari with no brakes and limited steering (like me; it’s fun). You are a Fire Horse after all. We are fated to be outspoken and opinionated.

Run wild, little girls. Run wild like the horse you are.