Burning the Seeds of Bondage: Iyengar Yoga And Social Justice – Peggy Gwi-Seok Hong

Harper Nelson, Michele Pearson, Linda Simmons, Meiko Krishok, Crystal Teng, and Makeeba Ellington

BURNING THE SEEDS OF BONDAGE:

IYENGAR YOGA AND SOCIAL JUSTICE

BY PEGGY GWI-SEOK HONG

As avid practitioners of Iyengar Yoga, we proudly describe our method as welcoming to all, regardless of age, body

size, and physical capabilities. We know in our hearts that it can meet people where they are on any given day and help them feel better in multiple ways. But is this spiritual truth manifesting on a practical level in our classes?

The matter of race is still considered a taboo topic in the U.S., a nation that would not exist without the genocide of Native Americans and dependence on centuries of slavery. This tragic legacy of systemic racism continues through this day and intersects with class issues, perpetuating growing disparities of wealth. I spoke Kris Manjapra, a black CIYT in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and she pointed out that “We live in a society that refuses to acknowledge these origins and in which ongoing forms of racial and settler violence are veiled, hidden, and ignored.”

Here in Detroit, Michigan, America’s largest black city, I recognize the ravages daily, through disinvestment of black neighborhoods, the dismantling of the public school system, and water shut-offs to impoverished neighbors— all while corporate debts are allowed to rack up, homes are foreclosed on, and more. In such a climate, who’s thinking of yoga?

Since moving here in 2013, I have been learning anew what makes Iyengar Yoga both incredibly useful and totally inaccessible to so many. Iyengar Yoga Detroit is smack dab in the center of the city, in the neighborhood of Hamtramck, a racially diverse working-class community.

Cost and location are the most obvious logistical barriers. Most Iyengar Yoga studios are in well-to-do, gentrified, majority-white neighborhoods. But a host of more subtle conditions can also be discouraging and more difficult to dismantle. Someone who is truly committed can take a work-study position, apply for a scholarship, or request a discount. Realistically, however, only a person with a fair amount of social and cultural capital will go this far. They have to be experienced in navigating such systems, filling out forms, and have enough experience and confidence to even ask.

I’m thrilled to see that many Iyengar Yoga studios these days offer weekly or monthly free or donation-based classes. Dabblers will try it out, and a certain percentage will return. But most will not try, and most will not return. Why not?

Graciela Lopez of Albuquerque, NM, in Supta Baddha Konasana Photo: Avery Janeczek Kalapa

is most likely also short on time, perhaps spread thin in several part-time or unpaid jobs, while juggling responsibilities at home and beyond. The activists and artists in my circle may be teaching as underpaid university adjunct professors, engaged in the fight for water rights, growing their own food, and raising children. Many working-class folks, people of color, and queers are also survivors of trauma, which may go back generations. These people experience housing insecurity, lack of family support, and chronic health issues.

Kris notes that “People of color carry in their very bodies long histories of dispossession, racialization, and devaluation. They experience aggression and violence every day that remains hidden or unacknowledged.” Under these conditions, getting out of bed in the morning, with some measure of joy, dignity, and confidence that they are safe in the world, is itself a testament of courage and hope.

So what can we do, as compassionate citizens who want to share the healing art of Iyengar Yoga with truly everyone who could use it? I spoke with several colleague-friends about these issues. I asked, if you are not a person who fits the typical Iyengar Yoga demographic of white, middle class, and cisgender (someone who’s gender identity matches their assigned sex), what draws you to Iyengar Yoga? If you teach students outside of that demographic, how would you describe the needs of your students, and how do you meet those needs?

Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra II.4 points out that avidya, lack of knowledge, is the source of all suffering. Kris suggests that “Iyengar Yoga, as a method, cannot focus only on the personal ego, but also needs to pierce through the illusion of a collective social ego,” which is based on injustice. “We need to ask important questions about how our practice of yoga can pull back the veil of ignorance” regarding personal and collective participation in oppression. All too often, people of color feel they have little choice but to attempt assimilation, to fit in. Instead, what would it look like to center people of color and other marginalized bodies, through the practice of Iyengar Yoga, both on and off the mat? Kris notes that B.K.S. Iyengar himself defied the existing high-caste, family-based, patriarchal system of the yoga parampara (tradition). Perhaps we can be inspired to take Iyengar Yoga to the next level, as a practice of liberation for all.

Angela Abiodun, a black Iyengar Yoga practitioner in Detroit, appreciates the conversations that are able to exist in the space of yoga classrooms when teachers and communities are willing to interrogate the ways Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras and the world merge or are in conflict. At Iyengar Yoga Detroit, we explicitly discuss how the practice of yoga relates to society and the issues of the day. Angela emphasizes how important it is to be trauma-informed. “We’ve got to have an awareness of blockages and the way students interact with their bodies on a social-political level.” How does the body respond to generations of oppression and colonization?

Erin Shawgo, a white CIYT in Detroit, comments that in teaching at a substance abuse clinic to mostly black women, she observed a hesitancy, almost a resistance from their own bodies, like an unconscious way of protecting themselves. She noted fear, distrust, dislike, or frustration with their bodies, and how Iyengar Yoga became a practice of body-positivity— accepting, treasuring, and loving their bodies, while practicing communicating with and trusting their bodies.

Erin contrasts this with her white, middle-class, cisgender students, who seem more trusting of their bodies and less concerned with her instructions. “They often do poses for the sensation and even put themselves into poses that could cause harm,” Erin says. She attributes this to “a dissociation from how their body looks and feels in space. Having a strong sensation in the pose is more important than developing a sense of proprioception [inner spatial awareness].”

Jacqueline Shea Murphy, a white CIYT who teaches mostly students of color at University of California-Riverside, notes that Iyengar Yoga is particularly well-suited for diverse body types, because there is not one kind of body or one way of approaching a pose, but many. She adds, “The specific focus on detail helps students foster a relationship with their bodies that brings attention to THEIR OWN body and what it is doing that moment.”

So what can we all do as CIYTs in our classrooms to help destroy the seeds of bondage and make Iyengar Yoga more inclusive? Here are just a few ideas:

Take an extra step. Don’t expect people who’ve been marginalized to be able to meet you halfway. Their “cultural commute” may already be huge! Taking an extra step may mean that you move the class off-site into another neighborhood. It may mean you teach with minimal or no props. It could mean students come late and in blue jeans. They may hesitate to take their socks off. Be flexible, not dogmatic.

Recognize that the playing field is not level and

never has been. Don’t assume that everyone has the same capacities, feels the same level of safety, or is willing to take the same risks. Even Adho Mukha Svanasana can feel uncomfortably vulnerable. Give options, variations, and listen, listen, listen.

Check in with students. Ask them how they’re feeling. Look at their faces— especially their eyes. Are they agitated? distracted? zoned out? Adjust the class accordingly. Maybe you need to pick up the pace, or maybe you need to switch to seated or supine poses.

Practice consent. “Shall I adjust your hips?” or “How about some traction here?” can be more inviting and less jarring than an unannounced manual adjustment. If someone has experienced body trauma, touch can be triggering.

Affirm correct understanding and effort. Students need encouragement, especially if they have had to go though extra challenges just to make it through the door. But don’t over-attend to them, which will feel

“The Iyengar Yoga community can and should be a leader,” Jacqueline says, “in cultivating diversity in the classroom.” She also suggests that awareness of race, class, gender, and ability should be part of teacher training.

Jessica Vega Gonzalez, a queer Latina CIYT in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, teaches a Women of Color class. “Most of the students want a chill, informal class with a little bit of structure but mostly a place to rest,” she says. This is understandable for people carrying a heavy allostatic load: wear and tear on the body from chronic stress. She feels it’s important to create a social context in which students feel supported and affirmed. “They come back if they feel connected to others in class.” condescending. Let students know they are seen and valued, and give positive feedback when you see they are understanding the correct actions in learning a pose.

Set aside time for music, poetry, and sharing or

processing. Kris has used Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” at the beginning of class to set the tone and theme, as well as other music from the “black prophetic tradition.” Erin feels that infusing her classes with a social justice rhetoric for her fellow white students helps them see the practice as a tool to work on themselves, to practice being uncomfortable and humble, and to see themselves objectively. A short poem or sutra reading during or after Savasana may be effective in bringing awareness and intentionality to the class.

Give students something to take home. It’s important that people walk away from every class with simple asanas and techniques that can be completed at home and that aren’t intimidating. If students can’t afford money or time for consistent classes, give them confidence to practice at home.

Connect and collaborate. Start conversations in your own Iyengar Yoga community about racism, classism, gender normativity, fat-phobia, and ableism. If you are a person of color, genderqueer, or otherwise marginalized, create solidarity with other Iyengar Yoga practitioners like you and explore ways to expand visibility and accessibility. Don’t be a yoga missionary. Center the voices and bodies of those who’ve been pushed to the margins. Share resources, space, and information. Partner with the communities you are already in. Build relationships to build trust. Liberation must be collective, after all.

In Jessica’s case, the class is sustained by a teacher with whom the students can identify. When classes are a top-down, charity gesture, it can create a setting that invites microaggressions, and the students may feel patronized or tokenized. But if the teacher experiences the same risks and vulnerabilities as their students, they will build trust and connection, and the class will be sustainable. Lilla Watson, the Australian aboriginal activist famously advises, “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

All the teachers I spoke with emphasized the importance of maitri and karuna— friendliness and compassion— in teaching students who have experienced trauma, marginalization, and oppression. Iyengar Yoga’s reputation of strictness, firmness, and rigor may be off-putting, intimidating, or overwhelming in some settings.

Jacqueline says it’s critical to make sure everyone is attended to, welcomed, and included. She neither emphasizes nor ignores what students bring to class, including heavier students, hairstyles, or headscarves that may need asana modifications.

Avery Janeczek Kalapa, a genderqueer white practitioner in Albuquerque, New Mexico, strives to understand where her students are coming from when they enter the classroom. “When I inwardly acknowledge differences in privilege, I can meet others where they are and connect more genuinely, rather than having a ‘colorblind’ attitude, which can be divisive and allow for unchecked inner prejudice or awkward assumptions to play out.” Avery advises using gender neutral language, such as “they” or “them,” and asking all students, “What pronoun do you use?” especially so nonbinary transgender folks feel seen and safe. It can be tricky to give space for everyone to practice without special attention being drawn to them because of race, gender, body size, and so on while also acknowledging who is in the room and what they may be needing. Teachers need to get over being perfect, says Avery. Ask questions, and be okay with making mistakes.

Avery cites Yoga Sutra III.51, about destroying the seeds of bondage. “The beliefs we’ve inherited from past generations are samskaras: the racism that lives in me, homophobia, transphobia, etc. Through yoga, we can articulate where the habitual path is in the body, the nervous system, in the mind, and choose a different way.” As each of us practices this within ourselves and in our communities, we create a more just society. Sutras II.33–34 may give some insights into ways to develop a more discerning mind, and thus change our behavior.

“Our practice of Iyengar Yoga stretches the mind to reach the furthest extent of our body,” Kris says, “and the mind and breath find their home in the body’s fullest measure. We counteract the physical, emotional, and spiritual effects of racialization and devaluation. For people of color, this is a practice of redemption.”

Peggy Gwi-Seok Hong (Intermediate Junior III) teaches at Iyengar Yoga Detroit ( www.iyengaryogadetroit.com) and at community centers in Detroit, MI. She extends heartfelt thanks to Angela Abiodun, Avery Janeszek Kalapa, Kris Manjapra, Jacqueline Shea Murphy, Erin Shawgo, and Jessica Vega Gonzalez for their insights.