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 🙂

Does Being a Leader Mean Never Having to Say “I’m Sorry”?

Think about the last time you made a public mistake, be it in your personal or professional life. How did you handle it? Were you apologetic? Did you immediately make amends to anyone affected? And then, when the dust had settled, did you reflect on it, file the information and move on? Those are the “right” things to do, according to anyone with a lick of sense. When it comes to me, though, you won’t find one phrase in my acts of contrition: “I’m sorry.”

Now, this is not to say that I don’t experience regret or feel that I’m wrong, because it definitely happens. What I’m saying is that the words “I’m sorry” are not part of my vocabulary (usually). They’re right up there with the act of crying – there are just some things that can’t be taken back.

Let me explain my rationale. I want to solve issues, preferably before they become full-fledged problems. When a problem does arise, I’d rather dedicate time to quashing it than explaining it, apologizing for it and then resolving it. The act of saying “I’m sorry” puts you on the back foot. Unless a person has truly goofed in an irreparable way, there is always a way to make things better. Being solutions-focused means I’m looking ahead at next steps, not down at where I am currently still in the mistake.

To give an example: I encountered a situation in which, though it wasn’t me who screwed up, it fell to me as the person responsible for the one who did screw up. My response was to take responsibility, in writing, and begin discussing what could be done to rectify the situation. Unfortunately, the phrase “I take responsibility” didn’t have the same effect as “I’m sorry” to the superiors, and I was admonished specifically for not apologizing. Even years later, I believe this was one of the best examples of mismanagement I’ve encountered. Instead of focusing on my desire to fix the problem, the manager instead only saw the lack of the specific words that made them feel better. Even after pointing out that I had not shirked my role in the situation, I was left with a bad taste in my mouth. The manager’s reaction confirmed what I’d already suspected about some people: To say “I’m sorry” is akin to groveling, laying prostrate and allowing someone to be “right” in your wrongness.

Since then, I’ve stood in my anti-sorry stance. Thankfully, the people that I work with now are of the problem-solving variety rather than the make-me-feel-better type, which means that when it comes to it, we’re on the get-things-done team.

What about you? Do you find yourself apologizing unnecessarily? (The way people, especially women, apologize for the littlest things is whole ‘nother post.) Or are you team no-apologies-necessary? What’s your fix-it tactic?

Recognizing Overextension Before It Burns You

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Last week I was on it. Sunday had me at the track, sprinting until the only ones left going were me, my BF/trainer and his cousin. During the week, I managed to get in a day of yoga and two days of total body training. Coming up on the weekend, my legs were a bit tight but I was rocking and rolling, no stopping me now! Even though I knew sprint training was coming back around, I decided that a bike ride – only ten miles I told myself – wouldn’t be too bad on a pretty Saturday afternoon. Mind you, pretty is relative; it was near 100 degrees this past Saturday. After I made the loop, admiring the lake and views along the way, I managed to drag myself back home and shower, all the while questioning my own sanity for taking those hills on my novice legs.

Before I knew it, Sunday was there, staring me in the face. Cool breezes stirred across the red clay of the track. I shielded my face with a hand, took a deep breath and prepared to burst into my first sprint – 200 meters. Pace yourself, said the trainer. Just as I go to “turn over” (another track term I’ve come to know) I feel a cramp in my quads. It’s nearly impossible for me to pump my legs, they feel like lead. The remedy given to me was to try some 40 meter sprints, to stretch out the muscle.

First sprint, fine.

Second sprint, an ever so slight but definitely unable to be ignored twinge hobbles me.

And I’m pissed.

Continue reading “Recognizing Overextension Before It Burns You”

Victim or Victor Mentality – All Up to You

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Quiet as its kept, I’ve had an eventful three and a half months so far. 2013 could be the greatest year of my life or one of the worst, and I’m a true believer that so much of that hinges on my personal attitude and responses to situations.

“Your attitude determines your altitude.”

“Positive thinking brings about positive situations.”

Catch phrases. Panaceas against hardship and trials. And damn annoying when it feels like you’re getting it from all angles and there is no one in your corner to tag in and fight with you. My blessing is that I’ve never felt alone but it’s understandable that in seasons of trial, when you’re sowing for the reaping, when you’re in the valley and looking toward the peak of the mountain, you feel the most alone.

We live in a society that allows us to play the victim. This is especially true for those of us who are blessed the most. How many of us have grumbled and groaned about being passed up for a promotion, a perceived slight from a friend or colleague or worst yet, complaining about something that is within our ability to change and we’ve been to shortsighted or stubborn to do so? My challenges could truly have allowed me to play the ultimate “VICTIM” card, to writhe and moan and eke out sympathy from all those around me. I could have blasted my business on social media, decried society and individuals alike, and then sat back and let the good wave of “Poor you” and “How awful” roll over me and stew in my situation.

I don’t get down like that. From an early age, my mom instilled in us the principle of “24 Hour Pity Party.” Roughly translated to: “Take your day of self-pity for whatever has befallen you, self-medicate in cookies and ice cream, a vodka neat, talking it out, hiding under your blanket and generally blaming the world…and then build a bridge and get over it.” Tough love but dang if it doesn’t work. I grew up without a “Woe is me” chip on my shoulder, daring the world to bump it off whenever I felt I didn’t get what I deserved. When I get knocked for a loop, much like I have been since Jan. 1 of this year, I don’t know any other method of coping other than to dust myself off and figure out the next step. Victim mentality, even when I’ve truly been a victim, doesn’t suit me and likely it doesn’t suit you either. So I challenge you to see the beauty of getting a bowl full of lemons – you’ll never get scurvy!