I was thirty-one when I plucked up the courage to walk into a yoga class studio to take a class. Because I was nervous I went early. As soon as I walked into the room I regretted that decision.
My grandmother threw open the curtains, letting the morning light flood into the room. “Good morning world,” she’d call, her voice a singsong. This is how every morning would start when we spent the night at my grandmother’s house. My sister and I, still in our pajamas, would sit on the baby blue carpet eager to follow her instructions.
I did my first downward dog poses on that blue carpet. We giggled our way through sun salutations. At the time, yoga was that funny exercise my grandmother did and that we did too when we spent nights at her house during summer vacation. When I became a teenager morning yoga with my grandmother stopped. She couldn’t wake me up in the morning anymore when I went to see her in the summer. I’d slink from beneath the sheets in the late early afternoon hours and run off to the beach with my cousins.
The practice didn’t call to me again until I was in my early twenties and happened upon a woman teaching yoga on television. The first time I saw her I sat on the sofa and watched the class. The rail-thin woman with long blonde hair moved fluidly through a sequence of poses. There was something fascinating about her movements. I remembered those mornings with my grandmother and decided it was time to try practicing yoga again.
In those days the instruction I received for my practice was limited to books and DVDs from the library and any programs I might be able to catch on the exercise station on TV.
I was thirty-one when I plucked up the courage to walk into a yoga class studio to take a class. Because I was nervous I went early. As soon as I walked into the room I regretted that decision. Everyone else had shown up early, and I was the only brown face among them.
I found a place for my mat and anxiously waited for the class to start. As I did I watched the people around me. Immediately one thing became very apparent to me that I didn’t have the right clothes or the right body to do yoga in a yoga studio. I felt drab in my faded leggings and tank top. I wasn’t fancy enough or thin enough.
I enjoyed doing the yoga class itself, but I didn’t enjoy it any more than I did at home. So, I decided that live-in-person yoga classes weren’t for me.
Since then I’ve been to in-person yoga classes maybe three times. Each time I’ve felt equally uncomfortable. Honestly, I don’t know when or if I will ever go to an in-person yoga class again. Frankly, at this point in my life, I don’t much feel like I need to. I found my yoga home online.
The Benefits of Online Yoga Classes
Practicing yoga online gives me access to a more diverse group of yoga teachers that I would have never even heard of if it weren’t for the internet.
There are many different types of yoga and sometimes it’s hard to find a class that fits your needs, especially if you’re a yoga beginner. Online classes offer a variety of teachers and styles so you can find the perfect one for you. They’re an excellent solution for people who live in rural areas or who don’t have time to go to a studio.
Practicing yoga online allows you to go at your own pace. If you’re not comfortable doing a headstand in class, you don’t have to feel pressure to do one. You can take your time and work up to the more challenging poses. Yoga is all about self-acceptance and there’s no need to feel embarrassed if you can’t do a pose yet.
Online yoga classes are affordable. Plus, you get unlimited access to all the classes so you can switch things up if you get bored.
I’ve been practicing yoga for a long time now. The diversity of teachers and styles keeps things interesting, and the affordability is great. If you’re looking for a way to start your yoga journey, or if you just can’t find the right class for you, I recommend giving online yoga a try. You won’t be disappointed!
Lovelyn Bettison has been everything from a massage therapist to a life coach, but her life didn’t start falling into place until she decided to put all other pursuits aside and follow her childhood dream of being a writer. When she’s not doing copywriting for companies like Omstars, she writes scary stories about things that go bump in the dark. She also runs a pretty popular newsletter about all things spooky and supernatural. If you like that sort of thing, go to her website to download a free copy of her novella “A Haunting at Cabin Lake.”
“Broadly, code-switching involves adjusting one’s style of speech, appearance, behavior, and expression in ways that will optimize the comfort of others in exchange for fair treatment, quality service, and employment opportunities.” Harvard Business Review
Before I start, I must state that being Black is not a monolith. While code switching is common in the Black community, there are people for whom this does not apply.
My first memory of code switching is when I was 4 years old. My mother was going to pick up a check from a local business. Before we went inside, my mother taught me how to behave around White people. I was to smile, be polite and not speak unless spoken to. When we went inside, I hardly recognized my mother. She looked the same of course but her mannerisms, tone of voice, pitch, and use of language were totally different. Her voice was a few octaves higher. She was smiling…a lot…more than normal. She constantly said “Yes ma’am and no ma’am.” She somehow shrunk her almost 6-foot frame to fit her diminutive mannerisms. She laughed a lot…but not in a joyful way. The way she used words was different. The musicality of the African diaspora was missing. It was a strange scene to behold.
I was too young to understand exactly what was happening at the time but going to elementary school taught me what it was all about. From K-12, I only had two Black teachers. I quickly learned that when I acted like, well myself, I was treated differently than when I code switched or took on mannerisms that made White people feel comfortable. When I smiled a lot, made my voice higher, switched out of the vernacular used by my Black family and friends, and dressed more like the White students, White teachers lit up. They treated me better. I was seen as smart. I was recommended for “advanced” programs.
Code switching is a trauma response called fawning. Fawning is when we put aside our own feelings, emotions, wants, and needs to make someone else comfortable because we feel our safety depends on it. Safety is not just a fear of harm to the body. Being safe means that we have the power to control our lives. In the United States, colonization, slavery, Jim Crow, redlining, and many other events, resulted in White people holding power and having access to resources that Black people need to feel safe. This 400-year head start , not only gave White people the seat of power, it also gave them the ability to center American culture around themselves.
White culture is centered as normal culture. For instance, when White people say that someone is “tall, dark and handsome”, it is immediately understood that they are not referring to skin but hair and eye color. Think about the books you have read. If there is no mention of skin color, the default is White. Nude, by default, is a tan color. Movies & shows with primarily White actors are well…just movies/shows. If there is a predominantly Black cast, it is marketed as a Black movie and primarily to Black People. If a book has primarily Black characters, it is African American fiction/nonfiction, etc. Books with mainly White characters are well…books. History, that centers White people, is well…history. When it centers Black people, it is African American or Black history.
White people also have the seat of power. Just do an internet search for companies, lawmakers, leaders, communities, elected officials, etc that are major movers and shakers in the world and you will most likely see White cisgendered males. It is not for a lack of available Black people. The most educated group in the United States is Black women. If you need another number to prove how much power and access White people have in America, the median wealth held by White families is $171,000. The median wealth held by Black families is $17,000.Let that sink in.
Code switching, technically is not just a Black thing. It happens whenever someone, who does not have power, needs to make those with power feel comfortable in exchange for opportunities, fair treatment, and safety. I am going to present another code switching situation that may help you understand what happens when some Black people code switch.
A situation, in which many people code switch, is in corporate jobs. Let’s juxtapose this against code switching in the Black community.
Code Switching Behaviors
Changing vernacular and other components of speech: Many memes and movies have been made about “corporate speak” or the language that people use in corporate meetings, presentations, and dealing with customers that they would never use in their normal life. For example, “Let’s take this offline and circle back so we can pivot and possibly move assets to increase our bandwidth and be more agile in the fiscal year 2022.” Softening language is also very common in corporate America.
“If it would be okay with you”
“If you would like”
“Have you thought about”
Question marks and exclamation marks in emails are also quite common. Making the voice deeper, louder or higher, depending on the situation, is also normal.
These same behaviors happen when Black people code switch around White people. Many Black people have a certain cadence to our walk and words, use slang, and have cultural practices that are unique to our communities. These are often seen as “ghetto”, “uneducated”, “uncultured” or unprofessional. Our cultural mannerisms, when paired with a hoodie after dark, can and has gotten us killed by White people who were uncomfortable with it.
Not Being Open or Honest About Feelings: In corporate America, you are suspected to be in a good mood and ready to work. Your personal life is supposed to have no effect on what happens at work. If you are tired, depressed, anxious or anything that can be viewed as detrimental to your job performance, you have to keep it to yourself. There is an exception to this rule…lunch or after-work events. At happy hour, you are expected to be open but not too open. If you don’t commiserate or share in just the right amount, people start to think that something is wrong with you, you are not to be trusted, or not really part of the team. You are hiding something. And heaven forbid you don’t really like these events and don’t come at all. People really start to get uncomfortable.
For Black people who code switch, this means that talking about our feelings about the latest killing of an unarmed Black man by White police or Critical Race Theory being taught in schools is way too much. Instead, we essentially share extremely surface-level parts of our lives and take out any cultural nuance that we would have to explain too much. In the world of code switching, comfortable White people means safety, opportunities, and open doors.
Changing the way you dress, do your hair, wear your makeup or express yourself through appearance: In corporate America, there is an accepted way to dress that often has nothing to do with the job being performed. Construction workers need hard hats to be safe. You do not need to wear a suit to answer a phone or make a spreadsheet. While some people feel like a suit makes them feel more confident, I am sure you can find just as many people who just feel itchy. It is a cultural thing. A long time ago someone decided it was the standard for business culture and we all have to suffer for it. Other standards of corporate dress are neutral makeup, hair in natural colors, and no piercings. For Black people, it goes even further. Often our hair, which for many of us, grows out of our head in an afro, is not seen as professional. It has to be straightened, curled, and made to look more White.
What happens at most corporate jobs when you don’t fit in with the culture and you violate the rules above? You risk losing your job and not having the money that you need for you and your family to have a safe place to live, food to eat, heat and water, and a place in society. You may gain a reputation of being uncooperative, not a team player, militant, disruptive, a trouble maker, hard to work with, and unprofessional. This reputation may follow you and result in a loss of opportunities, closed doors, and burned bridges.
Before we leave this corporate analogy, being someone else 40+ hours a week is exhausting. When I worked in corporate America, I never had a problem with my job duties. It was always the drama surrounding the culture that burned me out. Whenever I had to go to work, I always felt like I could do the same job at home in my pajamas in half the time. However, I had to go into work where everything was complicated by culture, procedures, and people that ultimately slowed me down. How about you? We will come back to this in a moment.
Omstars is a yoga platform so you may be asking, what does code switching have to do with yoga? Most yoga classes in the United States are predominantly White. It means that White people still hold the power in these spaces and that the culture still centers on norms associated with being White. It means that after spending the whole day being someone else to be safe, which is exhausting, many Black people have to walk into yoga spaces and code switch yet again. Yoga is about connecting with our true selves. How can someone do that if they cannot let their guard down and be themselves?
You might be saying, “Yes, my studio is predominantly White but we are very welcoming.” That may be true but trauma responses become automatic. After trauma, a part of the brain is stuck and will immediately go into fawn mode in any situation that resembles the past trauma. Bessel Van Der Kolk, world-renowned trauma researcher and author of The Body Keeps the Score, says, “Niceness does not rewire neural pathways.”
This is why some people teach BIPOC only classes. It is not because they want to bring back segregation or be divisive. It is to give Black Indigenous People of Color, who don’t feel safe in predominantly White yoga spaces, the ability to access the full power of yoga that goes beyond asana. In these environments, traumatized BIPOC folk can let go, be themselves, feel safe and access the connection with the Self that yoga provides. Once this connection is firmly established, new neural pathways are created. In yoga, we call this, creating positive samskaras. It will take a long time to close the gap of power and wealth that exists between White and Black people. It is my hope that one day, the power differential will change and everyone will feel safe and we can break the code. That day is not today. Ahmaud Arbery was recently murdered by White men for exercising. Tamir Rice was playing. Elijah McClain was killed for “looking suspicious. I could write a whole other blog post on the unarmed Black people who have been murdered because armed White people felt uncomfortable or scared. No, that day is not today.
Please consider donating to my non-profit, YFR Foundation. YFR provides yoga resources, teaching, training, and immersions for those recovering from trauma and addiction. We help provide safe environments for BIPOC folks to learn about and do yoga and training for BIPOC folks who want to bring yoga to their communities. The fundraiser ends December 24 2021 but you can also donate at YFRFoundation.org.
Shanna Smallis a writer and Yoga teacher who speaks to the intersectionality of Yoga and social justice. She has practiced Ashtanga Yoga and studied the Yoga Sutras since 2001. She has studied in Ashtanga in Mysore with Sharath Jois. Shanna studied Sanskrit, the Yoga Sutras and the Hatha Yoga Pradipika with Laksmish in Mysore, India. Shanna’s finds joy in making the Ashtanga practice accessible for all. She studied with Amber Karnes and Dianne Bondy and is Yoga For All certified. She is a regular contributor for Yoga International, OmStars and the Ashtanga Dispatch. She teaches diversity and inclusivity, Yoga Sutras as well as accessibility trainings and workshops. She is a founding member of Yoga For Recovery Foundation, a non-profit that helps those recovering from addiction, trauma and systemic oppression. Shanna is also certified in the Trauma Conscious Yoga Method.
Shanna is a graduate of Georgia State University and holds a bachelor’s in business with a concentration in marketing. Before becoming a full time yoga teacher, Shanna was a recruiter and ad account executive.
For information on workshops, please e-mail email@example.com.
But, coming out of the closet was just the first step. It would take nearly two decades for me to get to a place where I could deal with the pain of the childhood rejection I experienced. Yoga would be a conduit for that healing.
Where I grew up, men were expected to act like men and little boys were expected to act like little boys. During the 80’s and 90’s, statistically, most young black men would be involved in some kind of street violence and would also spend some part of their lives incarcerated. So, many black fathers, grandfathers and uncles who had connections to young boys had to have it in their minds to groom young men that could not only survive the violent streets of Washington D.C., but that could also survive jail.
I was also a light-skinned kid. So, there was even more reason for concern because light-skinned high yellow boys were seen as weaker. And the men I knew weren’t having any soft-acting, high-yellow black boys coming out of my neighborhood if they could help it. They had to make sure that I would be strong. “You got to be all boy! You got to be the All-American Black Boy!” was what a substitute gym teacher in my elementary school would say to us male youth often, his eyes focused mostly on me, it seemed.
As we lined up and filed out of the school gym, a classmate’s grandfather that volunteered with the physical education program whispered to me as I walked by him, “Every soldier, every hero finds his own glory, young, man. You’ll find your own glory!”
He seemed to be speaking directly to my wounded heart. I guess he saw the insecurity on my face. It’s like he was telling me that despite what the substitute gym teacher had just said, that it was all right to be different from the other boys. Like many elder black men in our community, he’d proudly served as a Lieutenant in World War II. Having led so many different kinds of men with so many different temperaments into battle, perhaps he had first-hand knowledge that surviving a war depended upon much more than physical prowess. I felt like this elder was letting me know that he saw my uncertainty and that I was going to be okay. Even though I didn’t fit the image being projected onto all of us, better days were coming for kids like me.
The All-American black Boy rode mopeds and dirt bikes. The All-American Black boy could handle himself with his fists if someone disrespected him. The All-American Black Boy played sports, knew his way up and down a basketball court and knew how to catch a football. The All-American Black Boy was a champion. The All-American Black Boy was source of pride for the men in his community.
I never really took a liking to any of those things.
By my last year in elementary school, I knew that I was gay. I also knew that I couldn’t tell anyone.
I played with the girls. I jumped double-dutch. I read books.
I was jumping rope with a group of girls in an alley behind my house one summer day when the words, “That boy ain’t gonna be shit! He’s gonna be gay.” directed to me from the mouth of a loud intoxicated man out of a car widow hit me like a brick.
Even though there were always slivers of inspiration that would bolster my hope for better days in the future, like the grandfather in my gym class whispering to me, for the most part, the words coming from the mouths of men I looked up to devastated my young spirit and my confidence. I would go through my days and nights with those words echoing through my head. I’d look at other boys my age and wish I could be more like them and less like me.
Many young boys’ reaction to the pressure to be manlier would have been to become overly masculine to win the approval of others they looked up to. But, that wasn’t my nature.
I was a gentle spirit. I had a poetic soul.
By the time I reached my teen years, I felt rejected and alone.
There were no LGBTQ clubs at D.C. area high schools. There were no gay pride parades happening in Washington. D.C that I knew of. There were no same sex couples raising children that were visible. They were not preaching inclusivity in the church that I went to.
If you were a gay kid growing up in Washington, D.C. in the eighties and early nineties, you were on your own.
There were many days when I just didn’t want to live anymore.
Once I hit puberty, I began to pull away from friendships with males and females.
I didn’t go out partying like other teens did. I just focused on academics.
I’d check out a book each week from the library to read during the long bus rides out of my neighborhood to attend magnet schools that I’d been accepted to in Downtown, Washington, D.C.. I’d become what people may consider a ‘gifted child’ and that got me into schools away from my neighborhood. Away from anyone who really knew me, I spent time on the bus with my head buried in books communing with some of the most inspirational minds to ever live. And that’s exactly what a young gay kid like me needed: inspiration.
James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Richard Wright, Langston Hughes, the voice of Malcolm X through Alex Haley’s book, Alice Walker, these folks became my allies. These were black writers who wrote mostly about their experiences with racial discrimination in America. But they also wrote very candidly about their experiences as children coming of age and how painful experiences shaped them into activists and advocates for the underdogs of this world. I could relate to them.
They weren’t talking about being gay, but they were talking about being black and being different and oppressed. They were talking about how black people deserved better; how difference deserved to be celebrated; how difference deserved a voice. Since they were poets and writers, they did all not fit the stereotypes of what men should be or women should be for that matter, but they were successful and powerful.
Their books taught me that I could pour everything that I was going through as a teen into the arts. I could convert my pain into creativity; into creative projects. And that’s exactly what I did.
I joined drama clubs, signed up for speech competitions, went away for summers to study in academic programs and I began to shine in those areas. So much so, that I began to win the approval of many people in my community.
As a teen, my love for the arts and books took me all over the country and eventually away from the streets of my hometown to college. It was in Boston while in college that I was able to find the space to allow my true identity to begin to come out.
But, coming out of the closet was just the first step; It would take nearly two decades for me to get to a place where I could deal with the pain of the childhood rejection I experienced. Yoga would be a conduit for that healing.
“You are enough” that’s what yoga says. “Your life matters. You are special. You are a hero on your own journey. Come as you are. Accept yourself for who you are!”
No one had ever said that to me quite the way yoga teachers had.
Yoga brings me to a place where I can watch my thoughts and separate out the voices in my head. I can distinguish between the abusive voices—the ones put there by society and some of the men I grew up around that oppress LGBTQ people—and the voices that are for my greatest good and that uplift me.
Yoga helps me to constantly assess the damage that life has done to me and creates the space for me to be able to heal that damage.
Yoga invites me to be my own hero.
NOTE: This post is part of a collaborative media series organized and curated by Omstars and the Yoga & Body Image Coalition intended as a deep dive into yoga & body image.
LA based singer, Dorian Baucum won yoga studios over with his Dorian’s Live Neosoul & Yoga – a fusion of his conscious, live, feel good neosoul music you can groove to with yoga classes to create a concert-style yoga experience.
He guest-starred on CSI: Las Vegas with country music group The Rascal Flatts and the hit TV show ER. He’s a registered pharmacist with a Certification in Integrative Pharmacy, Reiki Master, Certified in Bodywork by the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health, served in the Music for Healing Program at Cedars Sinai Hospital in Beverly Hills, holds an MFA in Acting from the University of California, San Diego and a B.S. in Pharmacy from Massachusetts College of Pharmacy. He’s just completed his 200HR Social Justice Based Yoga Teacher Training at The Tree SOUTHLA Yoga Cooperative.
Dorian has released two albums: EVERYDAY WARRIOR: Acoustic-Neosoul for Your Soul and Turn It Into Gold!
Social Media: INSTAGRAM @dorianwarrior
Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu. May all beings be happy and free and may the thoughts, words, and action of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and freedom for all. – Be here and Love.
It is time to live in the reality that Yoga and Intersectionality are intertwined. Find the spiritual
crossroads of the life you so desire on our mats, and apply them in your everyday lives
Yoga in itself is a life built on intersections. We know this, we live our lives moving through the
paces; we struggle and grow through the day to day to find meaningful purpose. We do this
daily work to combine our physical bodies, spiritual bodies, and mental bodies. We know there
are crossroads between our celestial and metaphysical channels. And the goal is to find the
bridges between the things that make you, you, and connect that to the energetic points that
Intersectionality is the crossroads between Gender Identity, Socioeconomic Status, Race,
Sexual Orientation, Religious Beliefs, Lived Experiences (including trauma), Political
Orientation. Yoga is the crossroads between physical, mental, and spiritual practices including
but not limited to breath control, meditation, and bodily postures.
Once we know one, we know the other. The work on the mat teaches us our ability to navigate.
To understand one side of the spectrum, whilst being engaged in another. It is important for you
to realize that you are already familiar with this work. You now must adjust the tools in your
beautifully built tool box-sphere to be applied to the dismantling of white supremacy. Your anti
racism work is an everyday practice. Schedule time in your day to build the foundations of this
work! It must first start at home, it must start with you!
Take into account the culture of yoga is not just the individual, but the community. We ascend
ourselves into the astral plane, leaving the constructs of the breathing body, to traverse to an
energetic plane to connect ourselves to the universe.
Adjust your thinking. The time of who is worthy of the gifts of enlightenment, has passed. To
ascend you must be as connected with yourself as you are with everyone else. If there is
suffering in the world, a part of you is also suffering. You can not be connected to your practice
as you continue to ignore the micro and macro pains and sufferings of all.
White culture thrives on who is deserving. The feeling that ‘I am the one that is deserving of this
space’ is your racist systematic programmed mind. There is no ‘I am worthy if someone else is
unworthy’. This is the place to start your work. The answer is that we are ALL deserving.
Recognizing this hostility is so familiar that it may have become second nature -so innate that
you don’t see it for what it is. Know when you come from this space you are already lesser than,
and the journey will be unnecessarily longer. Then ask yourself why you are ok with that? I
encourage you to observe yourself.
Yemie Sonuga has spent the last half decade expressing her love through yoga. She is a 200-hour RYT yoga teacher, and a forever student. Yemie teachings are based in Vinyasa, Meditation, Dharma Yoga, and Visualization. Her approach to teaching is one of encouragement. Empowering you to believe in yourself, allowing the dismantling of fear, and the re-imagination of your true self. She has taught yoga across Canada and the US. Yemie offers a weekly Zoom class, as well as group Visualization sessions. She holds a Masters Degree from the Royal Scottish Conservatoire. Follow her on Instagram
Yoga studios in general have an open door policy. Anyone, of any size, background, ethnicity and sexual orientation is welcomed. Yet, the majority of students and teachers continue to be White. Surprisingly, these statistics don’t shift much with demographic. Even in the most diverse neighborhoods, yoga studios are filled with White bodies. The open door policy is not working.
Why not and what can we do about it?
Uncovering your own Implicit Bias:
The first step to diversifying your clientele as a teacher and studio owner is to be mindful of your own implicit bias. The Perception Institute states that “thoughts and feelings are ‘implicit’ if we are unaware of them or mistaken about their nature. We have a bias when, rather than being neutral, we have a preference for (or aversion to) a person or group of people”. As yoga teachers we know that most of our daily actions are played out without our conscious input. It is imperative to take these biases into account when we interact with BIPOC in our wellness space. Implicit racial bias shows up when we encourage and support certain types of students to attend a teacher training over others. It shows up in who and how we mentor and how we build relationships with our students. It even shows up in deciding which business platforms and organizations to partner with.
As a yoga practitioner it is easy to to lean into the simplicity of escapism and spiritual bypassing. We say things like, ‘all humans are equal, everything happens for a reason’ or even ‘I don’t see color’. Although these statements might make us feel better in that moment, the only thing they actually do is validate our own inaction. These statements feed into our own ego, and allow us to comfortably rest in complicity. They do nothing to promote and nurture diversity in yoga spaces and classes. The practice of karma yoga asks us to take action. In order to shift the current white washed landscape of yoga, we have to take intentional and actionable steps to uncover our own implicit bias. Even if we are not racist, and we ‘wish’ our classes would be more diverse, if we are not intentionally stepping outside of our comfort zone to implement lasting change in our environment, we are actively contributing to the white supremacy and racial divide in yoga.
Financial Barriers to Diversity:
Income inequality is a direct effect of systemic racism and oppression.Inequality.org states that the median White family has 41 times more wealth than the median the Black family and studies have shown that this racial wealth divide only continues to grow. These inequalities directly affect the level of diversity in yoga spaces. Many studios have both strategically and sometimes inadvertently placed themselves in the luxury wellness sector. Studios charge $20+ a class, and yet believe their classes are financially accessible to the public. Clients mostly pay for yoga classes and memberships with disposable income; income that was allotted to them by the intentional oppression of others. Thus, BIPOC have a very different relationship with their money. Further so, self-care, healing and spirituality are often portrayed as a luxury rather than a right.
Too often the environment that yoga studios cultivate only reinforce this belief system. It is important that we prioritize the well-being of our community as a whole (including Black people) over potential profit margins. In this climate as many yoga studios struggle to keep the doors open it might seem difficult to envision a way to manipulate the current pricing structure. However, even with current business models, an overwhelming amount of yoga classes remain partially empty. Creating inclusion and diversity in wellness spaces is not only our duty as practitioners, it is also good business. Instead of ignoring an entire demographic of people, what would it look like to remove the financial barriers, and foster an economically sustainable relationship?
Creating a safe space for Black People:
The reason many Black people do not feel comfortable in yoga spaces is because they are predominantly occupied by white bodies. Historically, Black people have not been safe nor allowed in spaces occupied by Whites. One might argue that the past is the past, however racial segregation was only abolished in 1964. To put this into perspective, that was 56 years ago as of 2020. Now, if we believe that trauma and PTSD can be generational, it is no surprise that certain fears and safety mechanisms are ingrained into the Black community. The trauma is passed down and only validated by the daily racial micro and macro aggressions from White counterparts. To this day, Black people can’t walk into certain establishments without being scared for their life, can’t run through certain neighborhoods without being killed, and can’t even be in their own homes without being viewed as criminals. So why do yogis think that an all white yoga studio would seem like a safe space for Black people who are majorly suffering from conscious and subconscious trauma.
Creating a safe space doesn’t start with a diverse clientele, but a diverse teaching, management, and desk staff. If potential clients look at your website do they see diversity? When BIPOC enter your studio, do they see themselves represented? As teachers and studio owners it is not enough to just open the doors and hope that diversity will inevitably occur. It is your duty to take actionable steps to define yourself as a diverse culture. This means not being passive and naive, but intentional and aware of the barriers black people encounter when entering any wellness space. It is not enough to claim inclusivity, you must actively challenge white supremacy. Dismantling the status quo and fighting for social justice has to be a daily practice.
As yogis it is our job to pull apart our own patterns, to evaluate the why behind our actions and to hopefully progress and step into a new way of life. Can we evolve in our opinions and our actions the same way we evolve in our teachings? Through dedication, hard work and the desire to be and do better. Can we as teachers lean into the discomfort of change the way we lean into our practice? Through patience, action and breath. Now is the time to take your practice off of the mat. This, is the Yoga!
Patricia is a NYC based Yoga teacher, founder of Yoga While Black and lifelong student. Her teachings aim to cultivate mental, physical and emotional well being through yoga, meditation, and reiki. In a society where healing and spirituality have become a trend, her offerings are rooted in digging deep, finding vulnerability, and doing the work. With a belief that healing has no shape, color or gender, Patricia works to bring awareness around the lack of diversity, specifically Black representation, in the wellness industry.
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It doesn't matter if you succeed at the pose, but it does matter that you try. The effort of trying will teach you valuable lessons that can transform every aspect of your life.