Tag Archives: exclusion

Inequality, Manners, and the Gross Yoga Body

Today I want to explore some thoughts about elitism and class privilege in the yoga world, and how this connects to constructions of the yoga body in terms of manners, size, and race (because really, these three tend to be interconnected). There is a great deal of discussion about how yoga is primarily practiced by and accessible to a high-class, highly educated, thin, white, female demographic, and that it is this body that is overwhelmingly featured in (stereotypical) cultural representations of the yoga body. Often, discussions of inequality in yoga focus on race or size (or gender) rather than on social class per se. But in this post I want to center the discussion on class, and see how we can think about inequality/exclusion in yoga in a different way by using class as an underlying lens to focus in on issues of race, size, and even gender. Watch out folks, we’re about to discuss the gross yoga body!

Bodies as Social Signals

In addition to being a very intimate and personal part of our everyday experiences, bodies are also inherently social as they signal others around us, signifying and representing identities to others in ways that allow us to interact more effectively within the world. For example, Goffman’s theory of dramaturgy discusses how bodies can serve as props in the performance of social scripts; what we wear, how we carry ourselves (our body language), and (ultimately) how our bodies are interpreted by others (including race, class, gender, sexuality, and/or size, all of which are embodied to various degrees) provide a framework for us and others to interact in predicable (but unique) ways, what Bourdieu calls “regulated improvisation.” Bodies are a part of our social scripts, and help us interpret and interact with the world as they can help us anticipate what is appropriate behavior in different settings with different people.

We learn to interpret bodies through our personal interactions but also through media (which is a profoundly powerful agent of socialization in today’s world). Bodies, in this sense, are interpreted and framed by cultural processes that ascribe meaning and moral distinction to various individuals depending on what they look like. Because we often develop split second impressions of people based on appearance, bodies shape our experiences in life as they can affect how others treat us, and because of the looking glass self, bodies also come to shape how we think about ourselves as we imagine what others see when they look at our fleshy being and learn to internalize that (as if we see through a looking glass to develop our sense of self).

Class is ultimately an embodied experience and signal. Our social class is written in the body in ways that are often invisible, naturalized, and normalized even as we socially construct them. This happens in numerous ways. For example, poverty contributes to increased rates of diseases and illnesses that can define and shape our bodily experiences in the world. All those in poverty have bodies shaped by less access to quality health care, both medical and dental, across a lifetime. Those who are poor generally live in worse areas that have higher rates of pollution and exposure to dangerous substances (such as lead paint) all of which can impact health in profound and lasting ways. Those who are poor have shorter lifespans as well; the wealth-health connection is strong and lasting, and ultimately a connection that plays out in and on the bodies of real people, in real life. So class is written in the body and signaled through the body in terms of health, illness, disease. Class is also written into the body through the type of work done by different classes (e.g., blue collar vs. white collar) or in the type of fashion worn by different classes.

Manners, Size, and the Gross Body

More importantly to our discussion, class is also embodied in terms of manners. Norbert Elias researched how during the industrial revolution when people began moving to cities en masse, a civilizing process took place where the new experience of living in close quarters with so many people created a system of self-imposed restraint, especially regarding bodily management, or manners. It became necessary to construct a divide between “private life” and “public life” to preserve personal boundaries in new urban environments, and bodily processes that were once relatively open and shared (particularly sex and the processes of elimination) became unacceptable, taboo, inappropriate, controlled through laws (like “no defecating in public spaces” or even “no sleeping in public places”), and relegated to the privacy of the home, preferably kep private even from those you share your home with.

This civilizing process, this private/public divide, wasn’t an accident. Levine and DiMaggio have both researched how elite groups in cities actively worked to impose manners on the lower classes as a means of combating and controlling class tensions. Not to mention the fact that this process was directly related to elite desire to maintain racial differences between elite whites and newly freed black slaves after the end of the civil war in 1965. What did elites do when there was no more legal distinction based on race? Not a problem when they could utilize the adherence of manners to justify the exact same practices and beliefs. So the construction of manners was intimately connected to maintaining class and racial inequality by elite white men, but in a way that seemed “natural” as it took place through bodily controls learned from a very early age, becoming habitual over time.

Farrell discusses in her book Fat Shame (which I can’t recommend enough) how this civilizing process was also connected to body size. Prior to industrialization, fatness was considered a sign of wealth, status, and prestige. But as the civilizing process took place, beliefs about fatness changed. Fatness becomes associated with gluttony and non-white racial identities, particularly the “primitive” or “uncivilized” body. Thin bodies were considered “closer to God,” and thinness became physical evidence of the control/restraint one presumably had to demonstrate to maintain that body (and faith, presumably) (60). “Fat became clearly identified as a physical trait that marked its bearers as people lower on the evolutionary and racial scale— Africans, ‘native’ peoples, immigrants, criminals, and prostitutes. All women were also considered to be more at risk of fatness, another sign of their status lower on the evolutionary scale than men. Thin, in contrast, became identified as a physical trait marking those who were higher on the evolutionary and racial scale—aristocrats, white people, men. Fatness, then, served as yet another attribute demarcating the divide between civilization and primitive cultures, whiteness and blackness, good and bad” (64).

So during this time elite (white, male) groups constructed a cultural divide between the elite, “high” body and the “lower” body. (By the by, interesting side note: the terms “high” and “low” culture derive from racist terms “highbrow” and “lowbrow” which were based on the pseudo-scientific eugenic study of craniometry, which argued that white people were inherently more intelligent because they had “higher brows”, aka skulls, than other groups. This study has since been found to be complete codswallop, the very definition of (pseudo-)scientific racism).

The “high” culture body was well-mannered, a body in control at all times, associated with intellect rather than emotion, and as such associated with the upper half of the body, especially the brain (rather than the lower half that engages in activities like sex, processes of elimination, and for women also menstruation, child birth, and so on). The “high” culture body was as such a male body, a white body, and higher-class. The “low” culture body had no manners, was a body out of control, was presumably subject to the whims of emotion and instinct, and as such was associated with the lower half of the body (e.g., sexual urges). It was (and is) a body associated with women, people of color, and those who are poor (also people of “deviant” sexual identities). Kipnis (in her excellent study of Hustler magazine) discusses how this “body is often a gaseous, fluid-emitting, embarrassing body, one continually defying the strictures of social manners and mores and instead governed by its lower intestinal tract: a body threatening to erupt at any moment… [It] devotes itself to what we might call grossness: an obsessive focus on the lower half of the body, and on the processes (and products) of elimination.” (132)

This bodily distinction took on a moral quality, with “high” cultured bodies considered more moral, “better,” “good,” and “normal.” As Bordo argues, “The moral—and, as we shall see, economic—coding of the fat/slender body in terms of its capacity for self-containment and the control of impulse and desire represents the culmination of a developing historical change in the social symbolism of body weight and size… [Under capitalism,] social power has come to be less dependent on the sheer accumulation of material wealth and more connected to the ability to control and manage the labor and resources of others. At the same time, excess body weight came to be seen as reflecting moral or personal inadequacy, or lack of will “ (Unbearable Weight: 192).

But how laughable all this is when we dig deeper! Because manners, bodily difference, and moralizing this difference is based on a false construction of elite bodies as somehow inherently different than those who are “Othered,” than “lower” bodies. And it is a false distinction! It is an illusion! It is not truth! Because all bodies eat, spit, piss, fart, poop, have sex (here’s hoping, at least!), and are ultimately at a basic level out of our control. Most of our body processes, and even mental processes for that matter, happen outside our conscious awareness. And that’s a good thing, because if we had to remember to breathe all the time we’d be in trouble, folks, let alone if we had to remember to make our hearts beat. All bodies are gross bodies. All bodies are flesh, and blood, and fluids, all bodies are messy–and thank god for that too because otherwise we’d be robots, unable to feel or truly experience anything. Denying the human nature of our bodies, hiding processes that are “undesirable” according to cultural norms just to take on, maintain, or enforce elite status can actually be incredibly damaging, not just in terms of the inequality it helps support and reproduce but also physically and mentally for those who adhere to it.

Class Privilege, Elitism, and Yoga

So let’s bring this back to yoga and class privilege. Of course class privilege in yoga is partially tied to the way the industry developed, the creation of yoga studio systems and teacher training programs, their marketing that primarily targets and caters to middle-class, highly educated white women (and to a lesser degree, men), and their locations, which are often in high end, white neighborhoods. (That’s a whole other post, though.) It’s also in some sense tied to fashion and consumption patterns. But right now I want to draw your attention to the way class privilege in yoga also has to do with the social construction of the yoga body, which is ultimately a classed (and raced, and gendered) body.

The yoga body is constructed as a “high,” elite body. It is a body constructed as completely in control (look at the force of will required to achieve and maintain some of those intense arm balances and inversions!), a body that is thin, “absolutely tight, contained, ‘bolted down,’ firm: in other words, a body that is protected against eruption within, whose internal processes are under control” (Bordo: 192). It is a body that does not burp, fart, or defecate (that we hear about), that is associated with the mind and upper half of the body, a body that is white, a body that is not messy. It is a body that is elegantly photographed, in a way that is associated with high-end, high-class production (think: Playboy, not Hustler). It is the sexualized body, not the body having sex. It is a bodied that is well mannered at all times, not the embarrassing body. And in saying these things, I’m not trying to say these things are bad; they simply are, and I am simply trying to acknowledge the way the yoga body is constructed as a classed body. But this construction is also limiting; at its very essence it is classed in profound ways and tied to forms of oppression and privilege that are inscribed in and read off bodies and their representations. The representations we see of this yoga body are not truth; they are manufactured and present a particular classed reality that is not shared by most people, that hides the underlying, inevitable gross body.

Perhaps more interestingly, the yoga body has not always been constructed in this way. The classical hatha yogic body was originally a gross body, a messy body. As discussed by Singleton, traditional hatha practice bodily practices were often distinct from the use of asanas, and a great deal of traditional hatha yoga practice aimed at purifying the body would today seem incredibly unorthodox, downright alarming, and, well, gross. Singleton summarizes some these practices as follows: “A preliminary stage of the hahta discipline is the six purifications (satkarmas), which are (with some variation between texts) (1) dhauti, or the cleansing of the stomach by means of swallowing a long, narrow strip of cloth; (2) basti, or ‘yoga enema’ effected by sucking water into the colon by means of an abdominal vacuum technique (uddiana bandha); (3) neti, or the cleaning of the nasal passages with water and/or cloth; (4) trataka, or staring at a small mark or candle until the eyes water; (5) nauli or lauliki, in which the abdomen is massaged by forcibly moving the rectus abdominus muscles in a circular motion; and (6) kapalabhati, where air is repeatedly and forcefully expelled via the nose by contraction of the abdominal muscles” (28). One of the many aims of these practices was to stimulate proper digestion (remember, that whole burping, farting, pissing, pooing messy body?), which is essential to good health.

The hatha yoga body was sanitized when it became appropriated by highly educated, upper-class Indians and later by the West, and this sanitizing process has continued today through studio systems where the practice is removed from the fleshy, gross body (god forbid you fart or burp in your class!) even as we are encouraged to “drop in” to our body through asana–but that “dropping in” takes place in classed ways that tie to race, size, and also gender, and seek to construct our bodies, and shape them, according to class boundaries and privilege.

This is a huge problem, because if we are only encouraged to connect to the “high,” elite body we marginalize many groups from practicing yoga who may feel uncomfortable as their bodies may not fit as easily within this construction (recall: people of color and larger bodies as well as a number of other groups are often are associated with the body out of control, the “lower” body, experiencing greater body monitoring by others as a result). Focusing only on the elite, “high” yoga body also means we lose sight of our connection to our own bodies, which are ultimately not classed, and are all gross. All yoga bodies are gross bodies, just as all bodies are gross bodies. Denying this is denying truth. Embracing our gross yoga bodies is pivotal to deepening a better understanding of ourselves and others as well as improving our health and well-being, both physically and mentally. Only by embracing the entirety of ourselves, including our gross bodies, will we be able to learn to love ourselves, improve our health, and reduce inequality.

Embracing the Gross Yoga Body

I think it’s high time we reclaim the gross yoga body, not only as a means of combating class privilege and inequality in yoga, but also because it’s important for our own health and well-being. Reconstructing the yoga body as a real, gross, fleshy, messy body is necessary if we want to change the classed nature of the practice. And this entails changing the practice to encourage and embrace the gross body. By all means, burp and fart in class! Why not? In fact, why wouldn’t you? What does it say about yoga today when we discourage people from expressing natural bodily practices that are a by-product of a deep, real, felt practice? Because honestly, if your yoga practice isn’t encouraging proper digestion, including healthy burps and farts, why are you even practicing in the first place? If we aren’t practicing asana to become healthier, then what are we practicing for?

In fact, it can be bad for your health to suppress a burp or fart. As this excellent post discusses: “burp when your body wants to burp, and pass gas when your body wants to pass gas; both mechanisms are in place to keep you comfortable and healthy, and suppressing these mechanisms can lead to trouble… The bottom line: For less abdominal discomfort and better overall health, chew well, don’t suppress the release of gas from your body, and strive to avoid foods that don’t agree with your digestive tract.” Here’s another post that identifies how “holding in gas leads to bloating, stomach cramps, and even devastatingly serious pain.” So why is something that is actually good for our health actively discouraged? (Oh right; I guess class oppression, because always?)

And if this discussion about bodily processes is making you uncomfortable, maybe you need to be asking yourself: why? Why do bodily processes that are natural and vital for our health and well-being make us ashamed, embarrassed, or uneasy? Who has taught us this is the “proper” reaction? How do feelings of shame and embarrassment control us and help to maintain unequal power systems?

If we want to adequately develop self awareness, we need to become aware not just of our “high,” elite bodies but also the aspects of our bodies that are “low” class. We need to embrace our gross yoga bodies as a path to self-love and healing, both physical and emotional. And we need to encourage a culture where the gross yoga body is not shamed or “Othered” but is considered normal and welcomed, so that everyone can live in a body that burps and farts without fear! Ultimately, we need to become comfortable talking about these things; and hey, a little laughter doesn’t hurt either.

Love, light, and… yoga ❤

poop-infographic-healthworks

Advertisements

Response to: Yoga and Our Bodies

I just saw the article Yoga and Our Bodies: Let’s Cut the Crap and Make Peace with Ourselves published on DoYouYoga, and couldn’t help but write a response. It’s an article that epitomizes a particular type of thinking common in the yoga world, but one that is absolutely incorrect and needs to be turned on it’s head if yoga is going to be a force for social change and empowerment.

I can’t in good conscious recommend people go read the piece because I think it’s that bad, but if you want to check it out follow the link above. The article makes the claim that it was only when yoga became adopted by women in the West that people started to have issues with the type of yoga bodies portrayed. Apparently, according to this article, when men practiced in the past their bodies weren’t scrutinized for being “too thin” or not being representative of yogis as a whole. The author goes on to claim that criticisms of the stereotypical yoga body (thin, female, white, able to do advanced postures) are driven by jealously, that those images should serve as inspiration, and that ultimately the images reflect yogis who have a depth and dedication to the practice that those who critique the images lack.

Hopefully at this point you’re thinking what I’m thinking: Wow! What a load of bull$&^!! Obviously this author is writing from a place of unacknowledged privilege, a misunderstanding of social issues related to yoga and body image, and and oversimplification of yogic history. Let’s unpack some of the problems with this article, talk about why such opinions are so common in the yoga world, and why we need to change our yoga discourse to promote social change.

Problem #1: She completely ignores social and historical circumstance when she talks about yoga history.

I’ve written a great deal about yoga history on my blog, but in general she’s completely ignoring why it was mostly men, and also why they often were thin or practiced in loincloths. At the point in time in yoga history that she’s talking about women were prohibited from practicing because of gender norms prominent at the time. It wasn’t until 1938 that the first woman was accepted as a student at the most prominent yoga school in India and even this early case was exceptional. Indra Devi (previously Eugenie V. Peterson) was a Russian noblewoman, actress, and dancer and became the first woman to learn yoga in India from the prominent yoga guru Krishnamacharya. Devi had traveled to India in 1927, changed her name, and acted in several Indian films. Despite her royal and celebrity status Krishnamacharya still wouldn’t accept her as a student until the Maharaja of Mysore (the man who established and funded his yoga institute) spoke on her behalf. And it wasn’t until decades later that it became acceptable for the average woman to learn the practice; even in America it took the counterculture and feminist movements of the 1960s and 1970s to change gender norms and draw women en masse to yoga.

Yogis prior to the 1900s were often in abject poverty and were usually religious ascetics that underwent a lifestyle characterized by abstinence from worldly pleasures, often for the purpose of pursuing spiritual goals. This meant they often had limited access to food because of poverty or engaged in fasting or other bodily practices that left them quite thin. Such yogis were often stereotyped negatively as dangerous and criminal by the general public both in India and abroad (often with reason, since many yogis were militant and fought against colonialism). So of course individuals weren’t going around wondering, “Where are all the curvy male yogis at? Why are all these yogis so thin? Isn’t this promoting negative body image?”

Making a claim that men weren’t considered in this way in yoga’s past so it doesn’t make sense that women in modern yoga are is anachronistic and doesn’t acknowledge that at the time of history she’s talking about such claims wouldn’t have made sense. And of course she’s also oversimplifying the idea that all yogis were thin men practicing in loincloths, since after the 1900s yoga became tied to physical culture so many male yogis actively worked towards a body common in weight lifting, and numerous prominent yogis of both genders did not have stick-thin body types (including BKS Iyengar’s daughter, Geeta S. Iyengar). Even now, men and women face very different gendered ideal yoga body types, with women facing often unrealistic thinness and minimal muscle definition, while men are faced with the ultra-buff broga stereotype. Both of these gendered ideals are often unattainable for the average practitioner, and are equally problematic for both men and women (I’ll talk about this more in depth in later posts).

c201a585385a837c926bdc09721b5b3e  1cd8a62456365acf140b1d6016fc769c

090eced363cd9327a187c4c56c3cf39c

I think it’s incredibly common in yoga today to promote a variety of myths about the origins of yoga as well as the nature of “authentic,” traditional yoga and yogis. Yoga has been, and still is, polyvocal and multivalent in that it is not any one thing with a set meaning. At all points in the history of yoga there has been immense variation in the practice as well as the people who practice, but we tend to forget or ignore this in modern yoga because to acknowledge it would complicate the origin narrative that is so vital and important to legitimate something as “real” yoga, or someone as a “real” yogi. Ideas of tradition and authenticity are socially created, but they serve as legitimation in modern yoga, delineating between what is real yoga and what is not, or who is a real yogi and who is not. So while most of these ideas of tradition and authenticity are myths, many in the yoga world still give them credence as if they were hard truth. This article is just another example of that mindset. The false assumption is that if men in the past didn’t face denunciations of exclusivity around body image, why should women today? Well, the answer is because it was a different social and historical moment, so it’s not the same thing and we can’t just haphazardly compare the two as if they had the same sociohistorical context. That’s called ethnocentrism, folks.

Problem #2: The assumption that outward appearance of the body or the body’s asana practice reflects the depth of someone’s practice.

I think this is the most problematic and disturbing part of the article. The assumption here is that if you don’t look like a yoga celebrity you aren’t dedicated in your practice, and that being able to do advanced asanas or have a stereotypical “yoga body” means you are more dedicated and committed to yoga than others. There are so many reasons why this is just completely and utterly wrong. First, it’s contradictory with the idea (that the author herself argues!) that yoga is more than just asana. Someone can have a very deep yoga practice without focusing on asana at all, or without being able to do those advanced yoga poses stereotyped in the above images.

Not all bodies will be able to look like that, or do that type of asana practice, and we shouldn’t all equally strive to accomplish that. We need to meet our bodies and our selves where we are at, and love ourselves for what we are capable of doing without injury. Recent discussions in the yoga community on yoga and aging are a great reminder of this. The fact of the matter is, for some people such advanced poses or that body type come more naturally. This doesn’t mean they are more dedicated or have a deeper practice, it means that they have privilege because it’s more accessible and attainable for them. For example, dancers train their bodies from an early age in ways that parallel advanced postural yoga practices, so many times when dancers start doing yoga they are able to enter into advanced postures with more ease despite only practicing for a short time. Does this make them more dedicated? No. Does it mean their practice is deeper? No. It means they have a body that is conditioned to move in a particular way, and that more naturally fits the stereotypical yoga body image. Is it a coincidence that many yoga celebrities were also once dancers or models? (Examples include the controversial Tara Stiles.) I’m pretty sure that it’s not.

In yoga today this assumption that advanced postures or outward appearance reflect the depth, dedication, or authenticity of one’s practice are common. But it’s not true, and creates a system in yoga where people who are naturally able to fit that body type or more easily access those advanced postures get more prestige and status, and are believed to be more authentically “yogic” than many others that might actually be more knowledgeable about yoga or have a more dedicated and deep practice. But because such folks doesn’t “look” like the stereotype or practice advanced postures they aren’t considered “real” yogis. Such a system directly relates to why yoga is dominated by a particular demographic, and why many yogis of alternative body types or identities feel unwelcome and out of place at “traditional” studios. If we want to create more inclusivity in yoga and really live up to ideals that “yoga is welcoming and accessible for everyone” we need to start changing the system, starting with these assumptions that body type or type of practice can be equated with the depth and dedication of one’s practice.

Problem #3: Such imagery is often an illusion anyway.

Many prominent yogis have come out and shared their experiences trying to create such imagery, essentially saying that these images are something of an illusion. Kathryn Budig has given interviews or shared on social media what goes into actually creating such images. The yogis in these images are being photographed every split second, so the images shown usually reflect only a split second of holding these poses, often while they are greased up with oil, under hot lights, and wearing copious amounts of make-up to look good all while doing advanced poses. Sometimes the images are actually Photoshopped to look more amazing than in real life. And really, anyone who has seen this video should understand that the amazing images we see out in the world (including the world of yoga) often don’t reflect the real, everyday practice of yoga celebrities, let alone most yogis.

Problem #4: The article completely disregards and delegitimates the experiences of real practitioners with body image and yoga.

This article also claims to speak for all yogis, and doesn’t acknowledge the voices and experiences of those marginalized in the yoga community. This parallels a problem that was common with the first-wave feminist movement, where white women would claim to speak for all women, regardless of race, ethnicity, or sexual identity. Obviously the experiences of white women in a patriarchal society are very different that the experiences of, for example, black women or queer identified women, and speaking for all of these groups rather than giving each group a voice to share their actual experiences is wrong. The same thing is going on here, where a thinner white woman yogi is speaking for all yogis, regardless of body type, gender, race, or sexual identification, without any real understanding or empathy for the experiences of such yogis.

The article assumes that images of thin women doing advanced poses should only be interpreted as “inspiration,” and claims that people who get upset about such imagery are really secretly jealous. In other words, it tells people what is appropriate for them to think or feel, rather than acknowledging the actual experiences of practioners who have been brave enough to speak out about their interactions with body image and yoga. It assumes all yogis want (or maybe should want?) to look a certain way, and interprets their feelings and desires without actually listening to the real feelings and desires of diverse yogis. This is pretty much a textbook definition of privilege, since it assumes the author’s experience and understanding is the norm, and discounts any experience that might not be shared or understood by the author. Again, the only way we can actually make yoga live up to claims of inclusivity and ideals of being welcoming and accessible to everyone is if we actually listen to everyone, and acknowledge their experiences.

Problem #5: The assumption that regular yoga practice will give someone the stereotypical yoga body.

The article also promotes a common assumption within yoga that “if you practice asana daily, your body will become more toned and lean too,” as if this is a clear cut equation. First, there has been numerous research articles that show that while yoga does help with weight loss, it’s not guaranteed and often has more to do with becoming more mindful of what we eat than that the physical practice itself transforms our bodies. Whether or not yoga will help us become “toned and lean” is completely dependent on the type of practice you have, how often you practice, and ultimately on the type of body you possess and what it is capable of, not to mention your diet. In all likelihood for most people it’s pretty much impossible that they would be able to obtain the stereotypical yoga body, even if they could stop going to work and taking care of their families to do yoga 8 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Some bodies can’t and shouldn’t try to practice more rigorous physical forms of yoga, at least without a great deal of preparation, perhaps lasting decades. For example those dealing with injury, health concerns, or those who are older probably shouldn’t practice in the way that would be required to obtain the stereotypical yoga body. Yet in yoga, despite claims that “yoga is more than asana” this is often completely ignored. Recent discussions of yoga and aging draw attention to the fact that our goals in yoga have to shift depending on the body we have now, and what our bodies and minds are capable of in this moment. Adjusting our goals in this way is the heart of mindfulness and self-love, and should be celebrated not ignored or degraded as a lack of dedication.

Problem #6: Gender essentialism that assumes women are naturally better at yoga than men.

The author of this article is also promoting a very common idea in yoga, gender essentialism, when she is making the claim that “women are naturally more flexible than men.” While it’s true that by the time we are older many women are more flexible than men, this is by no means natural or based in biology. It’s because men aren’t encouraged to move in the same ways women are throughout their young lives, so by the time men are older they have focused so much on building strength (per ideals of masculinity) that they often aren’t as flexible as their female counterparts (who are encouraged to be sexy and flexible as part of ideals of femininity).

Ideas of gender essentialism, that men and women are biologically different and complementary in terms of their bodies and also their desires, interests, and needs, is not true. While there are some biological sex differences between men and women, most gender differences are actually because of different socialization throughout our lives. In other words, gender difference is socially constructed rather than natural or biological. Ideas of gender essentialism abound in yoga, and often result yoga being highly feminized and heterosexualized, both trends that contribute to men (and queer identified individuals) feeling unwelcome or out of place in yoga. If we truly want to make yoga more inclusive, we need to stop believing in gender difference and promote a form of yoga that is accessible and welcome for everyone (for real).

In Conclusion:

I’m not trying to target the author of this article, and I think she made a valiant if failed attempt to talk about an issue that she clearly cares deeply about. But this article illustrates so many misconceptions in the yoga world at large that groups like the Yoga & Body Image Coalition are trying to address and ultimately contributes to the exclusivity and inaccessibility of yoga, as well as various forms of inequality within the yoga world. Not to mention it’s co-opting the body positive movement to promote body hate. Yoga is a practice of mindfulness, and mindfulness requires deep understanding that promotes empathy, something this article is lacking and that honestly is often lacking in the mainstream yoga community. To try and overcome this, how about we start by actually listening to and valuing the experiences of real yogis with body image, no matter how uncomfortable the reality might make some of us who experience privilege in the yoga world feel. Being called out on our privilege is not a pleasant experience, but it is a necessary one, and I think one that will enable yoga to be a force for social change and equality on and off the mat.

Love, light, and… yoga ❤

When Resistance Against Dominant Yoga Culture Fails

quote about what yoga is

I saw the above quote on my facebook feed this afternoon, and had a nagging worry about it that wouldn’t let go until I wrote this post. Here’s the quote in its entirety: “Yoga isn’t about our lifestyles, our beliefs, our weight, our diet, our flexibility, how spiritual or enlightened we are. Yoga is about showing up and doing our dance on our mats.” ~Janne Robinson, Elephant Journal

There are a couple of things that disturb me about this quote. First, historically yoga was about all of these things. Yoga has its roots in Hinduism, a spiritual practice that centered on self-realization, a form of enlightenment and oneness with a higher spiritual power. I realize, and am not arguing, that many people who practice yoga today no longer due so for religious practice. But ultimately, we have to ask the question, does yoga still serve this same spiritual purpose in our lives?

Narratives of salvation abound in yoga and among yogis. While today yoga may be disconnected from some higher power, the idea of yoga as a source of salvation and spirituality in a spiritually bereft modern urban world lingers on in the ways in which we utilize and interpret yoga in our daily lives. So in many ways, yoga is still deeply tied to spiritual enlightenment. I do think it’s important to remain in a place of non-discrimination in yoga regarding whether or not someone is more or less spiritually enlightened than we are. But to say that yoga isn’t about spirituality and enlightenment disregards and denies the ways in which it actually is, for many people, exactly about this.

Secondly, traditionally yoga has been about particularly lifestyles and beliefs. In addition, a large part of traditional yogic teachings were about diet (and to a limited degree, weight and flexibility). To say that these things aren’t what yoga is about is to deny the historical tradition of yoga. These associations continue today, as yoga has become a signifier for a cultural ethos that includes particular lifestyles (green, sustainable, organic, whole foods, alternative health practices), beliefs (ahimsa, anyone?), and ultimately about diets (local/organic, vegetarian, raw, juice fasts, and so on). All types and forms of culture are used for identity formation, to provide for shared experiences, social solidarity, and the formation of distinct groups. So yoga, and really any cultural object, will be part of a web of cultural connections, interactions, networks, and associations that all help make it part of what it is. To deny these things about yoga is to deny what yoga is, both historically and presently.

Ultimately, saying yoga isn’t “about” certain behaviors or practices denies the various and diverse experiences of yogis. Yoga is polyvocal and multivalent, and it is important for us to recognize that yoga is many things, to many different people, and that these are all our particular yogic truths and journeys, and we shouldn’t discount or deny any of them are part of the larger practice of yoga (unless they are harmful to ourselves or others). So my final question is this: In our efforts for diversity and inclusivity in yoga, have we removed the essence of what yoga is and why it is so appealing to us? Many arguments for why we should do yoga hinge on the idea that in our modern world we need and seek the spirituality and ritual that is part of the practice. In our efforts for tolerance, have we erased yoga entirely? And if so, what is left? Just us, “dancing on our mats?”

I think many yogis would agree with me when I say yoga always, always, always, goes beyond the mat. Or at least it should.

Love, light, and… yoga ❤

Yoga: Caught in the Glass Box?

During the last few days there has been a lively discussion going on in the yoga world about public displays of yoga. For those who aren’t aware, the most recent firestorm on yoga-celebrity public posing began with yoga “rebel” Tara Stiles’ new campaign with W hotels, where she rode around in a glass box in NY city doing yoga poses. The publicity stunt was a promotion of, well, a lot of things, I think most adequately summed up by this awesome article on Yoga Dork.

resize

Post by Hilary Baldwin on Instagram: “Carmen & I are gonna wait right here until you start serving breakfast@tiffanyandco #hilariaypd #yogapostureoftheday #breakfastattiffanys” HILARIABALDWIN

The glass box is part of a newer trend of exhibitionism in the yoga world whether it’s well-known yogis “promoting yoga” through selfies, yoga in public places (read: Tara Stiles’ show), or hey, even yoga in the store windows of Lululemon. Now, I have no problem with yoga selfies. There are a ton of great reasons to use selfies to enhance your personal practice, increase interest in yoga, or draw people into studios. But is there a point when such practices aren’t yoga anymore? What exactly is going on here?

I think there are two sides to the debate that come up most often. The first is that there is nothing wrong with these exhibitionist yoga practices, and that those who think there is something wrong with it are just jealous and judgmental. Now I’d be the first to say that anyone, whether it’s Tara StilesHilaria Baldwin (Alec Baldwin’s wife), or whoever, should be able to post awesome yoga selfies if they want to, or “perform” yoga in public if they want to (even in a glass box).

Yes, yoga is about non-judgment, and I’m not going around thinking any less of Tara Stiles or her yoga practice because she performed for the public in a glass box. Props to her, in fact! That takes some gall and serious self confidence. But while I do think the argument that we need to be “non-judgmental” of these very visible representations of yoga is important and valid, it’s not the full story. The root of yoga isn’t only about non-judgment, it’s about cultivating mindfulness for our actions. We need to unpack the most recent rendition of exhibitionist yoga to be able to fully understand, and be mindful of, what these practices mean for yoga and all of the people who practice it.

This newer trend of yoga exhibitionism, like Lululemon using live “models” in their store fronts or Tara Stiles in a glass box, has some serious issues. And this is where the second side of the debate comes in. The opposite side of the debate makes the (I think, incorrect) argument is that this type of “celebrity posing” is a betrayal of “true” yoga.

Fact check, y’all: yoga is a pluralistic practice. Meaning there are a ton of different ways to practice yoga, and no one way is morally “right.” Throughout the history of yoga there have been numerous variations in the practice, it’s meaning for practitioners, it’s use, and it’s reception among the general public. What yoga means changes depending on our socio-cultural location. It’s best summed up in this fabulous line: when you change the way you look at yoga, the yoga you look at changes.

So saying anything at all is “true” yoga is completely ridiculous, because what is “true” depends on your vantage point. Back in the day doing yoga primarily meant being male, meditating with some seated poses, and reaching a higher state of consciousness where you were one with all of the universe. Now, it often means following the eight limbs of yoga and performing complex, acrobatic asanas. Neither form of yoga is more authentic, or valid, or “true.” They are just different. So we can’t say exhibitionist yoga is “false” or “profane” yoga–it’s yoga, as it is at this time, at this place, and for those people. It gives them meaning; what right do we have to deny them their experience? But there are a number of valid and important critiques made in the debate about this type of yoga exhibitionism that I feel should be highlighted.

1.  Capitalism: First, and foremost, often these exhibitions aren’t really promoting yoga–they are about selling products or earning money. Selfies promote the person, which gets them higher pay for their yoga classes or privates, or promotional deals, or a bigger market base for their retreats, workshops, or products. Lululemon live yogi models are, obviously, trying to get people to buy overpriced exercise clothing to a primary target market of skinny, wealthier women. They don’t even offer larger sizes, and the price range makes the brand practically impossible to afford on a budget unless you forego food–believe me, I’ve tried it… well, maybe.

10370350_10152150316326938_4273271195793065730_n

tara-stiles-whotel-yoga-500x499

Above: Photo of the glass-walled truck that roamed New York earlier this week. Below: Image posted to the W Hotel Instagram account with the caption: “Morning yoga with @TaraStiles at @whotelsnyc. Find Tara’s nontraditional tips for staying fabulously fit on the road in all W rooms and suites across the world.#POSEWHENEVER”

Tara Stiles essentially garnered a sponsorship with W hotels to promote both the hotel franchise, as well Stiles herself and her brand Strala Yoga. (Yoga as a sport analogy, anyone? Olympic sponsorship deals coming to mind?) Remember Kathryn Budig’s provocative ToeSox ads? A sponsorship that rocketed her to fame in the yoga world. When what we are buying is no longer yoga, but stuff that grants us “elite” (and wealthy) status within a yoga world, that’s problematic. That’s a yoga that has been so co-opted by capitalism and consumerism that it’s more exhibition than yoga. Sure, poor aesthetic yogis in the past in India often did flashy poses to panhandle money. But they were homeless, trying to buy their dinner. They weren’t getting paid big bucks to pose in the (near) nude for the sake of selling products.

281355_10150730706770702_162704285701_20065454_6035632_n

Above: Toesox ad featuring a (nearly) nude Kathryn Budig.

2.  SexualizationEven more problematic, many of these exhibitions (whether an ad, instagram, or event) sexualize the practice as a result. Sure, consensual sex can be awesome, and who doesn’t love the beauty of Jasper Johal’s photography? But when yoga becomes synonymous with sexualized, thin, white women it creates stereotypes and associations that can be very problematic. For example, it can make it harder to men to feel comfortable in yoga because being “sexy” in these ways is often considered “acting gay” (unless you use yoga as a way to pick up on all the hot, sexualized, thin, white women). It also diminishes the art of the practice, to, well, the art of being sexy.

3.  Exclusion: These images are throughout the yoga world, and with similar images of thin, white women frequenting content pages of Yoga Journal or other mainstream yoga products (to help sell Yoga Journal and these products, no less), there isn’t any diversity being shown. This white, thin, female representation is primarily the only type of “yoga” being represented and the only type of “yogi” being shown, so these images come to define how yoga is viewed by both the general public and yoga consumers. This is (unsurprisingly) reflected on who does, and has access to, yoga.

Recent statistics gathered by Yoga Journal in 2012 indicate that yoga consumers are 82.2% women and only 17.8% men. In 2008 44% of practitioners had household incomes of $75,000 or more, with 24% making more than $100,000. In 2008 71% of yoga practitioners were college educated with 27% having postgraduate degrees (Yoga Journal). Comparing this to the general population, only 28.2% of all US citizens had a bachelor’s degree or higher, and the median household income in America was only $52,762 (Census.gov) While there are fewer statistics on race, an academic study by Birdee et al. found a significant difference in racial composition as of 2002, with 84% of practitioners being white and only 6% being African American (10% other).

By constructing yoga as a practice for white, thin, ultra-flexible, primarily upper class, heterosexual women (some of who were models or dancers before their yoga careers) these representations not only exclude men but also minority groups, those with different body types, and the poor (those who may not be able to afford regular yoga classes, let alone Lululemon clothing, W hotels, or Toesox). Yet it is arguably those groups who could stand to gain the most from a regular yoga practice.

So what do we do? I’m not sure, but I think blindly clinging to the idea that: “Anything goes! People who are bent out of shape about the content of other people’s Instagram feeds are often just jealous and spiteful!” is a recipe for further exclusion, commodification, and sexualization in yoga. Yoga asks us, and ultimately teaches us, to be mindful of the consequences of our actions. All of us, especially those in the spotlight, need to practice mindfulness in the use of exhibitionist yoga.

There’s a metaphor used in sociology, pioneered by Weber, describing how our capitalist society has resulted in our being locked in an iron cage that limits individual human freedom and potential instead setting us free. Let’s not build ourselves inside a glass box, only to find we forgot to include a door.

With love, light, and…

yoga ❤