Visibility Matters: On Practicing Yoga While Black

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With one week until I begin the 200-hour teacher training, I’ve been reflecting on how I will use my practice to make a difference. Should I volunteer to teach? Will I join a smaller studio to lead classes on evenings and weekends? In all my thinking, I must have put something out in the universe. And the universe is telling me that I need to be visible, whatever I do.

Last month, The Atlantic posted a story that was sure to get my click: “Why Your Yoga Class Is So White.” Though the studio I attend can boast a slightly more culturally and age diverse group of practitioners, I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to state that when most people think of yoga, they picture a skinny, ponytailed white woman, able to bend and stretch into impossible positions. A 2012 Yoga Journal study cited in the article states that more than four-fifths of Americans yogis are white. The article goes on to talk about studios and instructors who are working to change this percentage by offering low-cost yoga in underserved communities. As a product of an underserved community (shout out to Southwest Houston), the reference to the role religiosity plays as the preferred method to improve health (greater than meditation or yoga) resounds with me. More often than not, we attended Bible study, worship services or another activity at the church as frequently as I now attend yoga classes. While I would not say that yoga practice has replaced my religious practice, I do find similarities between the two in the repetition of mantras and routines, charismatic leadership and group assembly.

Much has been made of Black American women and lack of prioritization of physical fitness. According to the Office on Women’s Health in the Department of Health and Human Services, 4 of 5 Black women are overweight or obese. As the daughter of a mother who struggled with her weight and imparted the need for wellness to me and my sister from an early age, I’ve managed to avoid any weight-related issues, in part due to my yoga practice. By being visible and discussing how yoga supplements my weight and aerobic training, I’m setting an example to my niece and other young women.

The second article to discuss the lack of diversity in yoga came from Forbes. I’d summarize this as the discussion of the “Columbising” of yoga by the West, first the British and then Americans. The separation of the physical practice from the mental practice of meditation is not a facet of yoga that I’d ever considered before. However, after recalling some of the obviously competitive people I’ve had the pleasure of being next to in class, this makes sense. The focus on a wholistic yoga practice, one which includes the exploration of the history and principles of the practice, understanding the body and exploring mediation, is part of the reason why I signed up for the teacher training.

I write all this to say that I recall the feeling of being the only person in my class, and how it required me to get outside of my comfort zone and where I thought I belonged. That sense of not belonging gave way to a more peaceful, less stressed version of myself as I deepened my practice. Becoming an instructor allows me to be part of breaking the mental and visual barrier, one that keeps men and women from discovering the healing properties of yoga. This will be on my mind as I take my first step on the mat as a student next week, and will guide me for the subsequent eight weeks.

For some inspiration, check out the following social accounts: Black Yoga Superstars and Hippie Heathen.

Photo courtesy of Dave Rosenblum via Flickr

My Next Adventure: Yoga Certification

There is a saying that I’ve seen for years but only recently come to understand: “If your dreams doesn’t scare you, they aren’t big enough.” Once I made the decision, or the decision was made for me, to stop letting my work contribute only to the bottom line of other people, I truly got this phrase. Fear can be a big motivator; it can move you forward or it can keep you in one place. Once I got the swift kick in the tail that made me reevaluate my career trajectory and start looking at additional streams of income, I used any residual fear to move me forward.

With a bit of fear and a lot of excitement, I am super happy to tell you that I signed up for the 200-Hour Training Program with Sunstone Yoga Academy. The classes at Sunstone are what kept me sane and in phenomenal shape for the past 18 months, and the philosophy of their teaching resonates with me. I want to learn how to instill the feeling of peace and the ability to leave stress on the mat that I receive after every class with others. So, I’m taking my first step.

Clearly, I don’t mind being “different.” One goal in doing this, aside from learning more about my yoga practice, is to expand the visibility of African American yoga practitioners. While I know several women who integrate yoga into their exercise program, some view it as an Eastern practice at odds with Western Christian practices. I want to change those minds and help them discover a new way to keep the body and mind healthy.

I’ll be detailing my progress on here (because, of course I will) once the training begins next month. Until then, if you’re in the Dallas area, check out Sunstone (if you’re near the Skillman Live Oak location, holler at me so we can meet up). Are you a yogi (or aspiring to be a yogi)? What do you enjoy the most about your practice?

Early in my practice, last summer.
Early in my practice, last summer.
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Look at that concentration 🙂

My Life: A Change Done Came

I am a private person. I like being a private person. After learning through trial by fire that if you want something to remain your secret, you tell no one, I curated a small group of confidants. Even within that group, I’m private. So this post is kind of a big deal for me. I was inspired to share this after my mom and I sat down to Easter/birthday brunch last week and she told me in her sage, Yoda-like way, “You have a gift with words, and you need to share it. You don’t know how your story will affect others.”

So here it goes: my transition that I’ve alluded to in previous posts is that I’m between jobs.

Even typing that makes me cringe. Ever since I could legally hold a job, I’ve worked. It’s part of my identity, connected to my self-given purpose. I remember clearly going to pick up my checks – yes, that paper slip that conferred moneys before the ubiquitous direct deposit most of us use now – and how it felt to have funds to put gas in my tank and get me some grub on the go. Ahh, the days of simpler needs.

Now, to be without a place between 9 and 5 is a supremely foreign feeling. This is not to say I’m not doing anything. I’d been preparing for a change for a while, feeling that God was leading me elsewhere. I stayed prayerful, started making contacts and thought about my purpose and passion. I had quite the reality check from my inner circle when I began to stress about bills and if I could buy my first house this year. The statement affected me deeply, and it’s become my thinking: You are a child of the Most High, why do you have so little faith of the great things He has prepared for you?

The past month restored me. I didn’t realize how much I was internalizing my stress, thereby blocking my creativity and personal drive for success. I’ve been reading for my own enjoyment again. I have a growing wish list of inspirational books on Amazon and the fact that spring is coming doesn’t hurt. As an April baby, and after experiencing a true winter once I moved to north Texas, spring has a magic. The dry and cracked branches suddenly burst forth with white, pink and yellow blooms, the temperatures produce a warming effect that has everyone walking a bit lighter and all the bleakness of the previous season is left behind to nourish the harvest of the next.

It feels like I’m in my spring, blossoming and growing. I’d love to hear about your season of transition, share with me!

Why Fear The Unknown

We’re supposed to be the Golden Generation, unafraid of anything, any failure, any unknown factor. And yet, according to a recent study commissioned by the American Psychological Association, we’re one of the most anxious generations and I’m starting to understand why. Though we’ve been told to shoot for the stars, land among the stars, gold star and blue No. 1 ribbon for everything we’ve ever done, when you’re confronted with the first true possibility of failure, you become the deer in the headlights. It’s an unfamiliar beast, coming up on you fast, lights blinding, engine roaring. So will you turn tail and pray you can outrun it or will you adapt and face it head on? That is the test of true faith. 

I’m looking over the the lip of the diving board, looking down and seeing my personal cheer squad. They are all saying the things one needs to hear when on the ledge. “You Can Do It!” “Believe in Yourself!” And I think to myself that it’s easier said than done when you’re in the pool and I’m out in the wind, shivering to myself and wondering why the hell I climbed up on the high end again. Then I remember, the alternative is to be at the edge of the pool, tipping from foot to foot, thinking and rethinking if I want to dive in and swim or stay in the shallow end and doggy paddle. I’m starting to think that I’d rather do the duck paddle – cool on the surface and peddling furiously underneath – than the doggy paddle – splashing and making a show of myself and getting nowhere fast. 

So what’s the best way to take two steps, bend my knees and make the diving board feel my weight and then head to the next level?