This week has been unbelievably brutal. Like the cold-blooded murder of George Floyd, preceded by decades of Jim Crow, preceded by centuries of chattel slavery, preceded by centuries of genocide, life in the USA could not be more unjust. The very founding and essence of the USA, in fact, is based on incredible violence and inequality. We romanticize and fetishize democracy to avoid admitting we are actually perpetrators of unspeakable harm.
I hate to identify as American, but it would be disingenuous to pretend I have nothing to do with the nation. My parents sought out America, as an alternative to war-torn Korea, a place where they could raise their children to be successful and prosperous, and where my father could pursue his career as a scientist. Even though I live on the furthest fringes of America, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, we in Hawai`i have not yet succeeded in throwing off the yoke of the US empire.
The brutality that Black and Brown bodies have always experienced in the USA has hit home to white American citizens. Say their names:
RENEE NICOLE GOOD
ALEX PRETTI
On New Year’s Eve, ICE executed another innocent citizen, a Black man in LA,
KEITH PORTER, JR,
who has gotten far less attention than the recent white executions. As James Baldwin wrote to Angela Davis, “If they take you in the morning, they will be coming for us that night.” Similarly, Martin Niemöller noted, “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”
By profession, I am a mere Iyengar Yoga teacher. I make a modest living teaching full-time, as I have since 2001. I am also a poet, dancer, musician, maker, grower, and grandmother. What power do I have to change the world? To topple Trump? To abolish ICE? To end the genocide in Gaza?
On the other hand, who am I not to try?
I have to believe that every gesture of resistance carries weight. Every conversation, every phone call, every meeting, every action. Drops in buckets multiplied by millions. Even my tears constitute resistance. I refuse to numb out. I refuse to look away. I choose to feel, rage, mourn. I bear the wound, then choose healing.
Of course it never feels adequate. We feel powerless, just as the systems of domination have designed us to feel. Plus, we’re too busy surviving, which is key to the master plan. We vent our stress by shopping, distracting ourselves, entertaining ourselves, chasing little dopamine hits that keep us barely sated.
We are far more powerful than we may think. I am a mere Iyengar Yoga teacher, yet I have dozens of students each week that choose to spend time with me. I’m a writer with books, degrees, and awards under my belt. I have mentees across oceans and nations. I can play small, or I can choose to embrace my expansiveness.
I strive to bring my whole self into the classroom, including my frustration, grief, and rage. I hope to imbue my students with courage to face difficulty, stamina to stay engaged, and practices for healing to alleviate suffering. I tell my students that our role as yoga practitioners is to be fully present with our friends, families, and communities, with mental clarity and emotional stability. We strive to offer grounded, centered physical presence in every situation. We don’t run away. We don’t hide. We may need to take respite to refill our tanks. Then we come back to the mat, so to speak.
Perhaps we can even offer spiritual presence. Perhaps our yoga practice has helped us see a bigger picture, beyond the sometimes overwhelming present moment. Perhaps we can see beyond the individual, to glimpse the universal and eternal.
But do you see how easy it can be to slip into the ineffable? To spiritually bypass? To float off into the woo-woo ether?
STOP.
Our nation is on fire. The State murders people in the streets. We provide weapons for genocide. We commit ethnic cleansing.
Speak up, stay engaged. Yes, practice. Āsana, prānāyāma, meditation, Tai Chi, your daily walks, your weekly hikes, sing, dance, whatever your practices may be, keep doing them. But don’t use them just to feel better as an individual. Don’t use them as escape. Keep your vision on the larger picture of collectivity. Consider how your practice contributes to collective resistance, to improve all our lives. Invite others to practice in a more socially and politically engaged way. Dismantle, now and forever, the myth of individuality. Use your practice as iśvara praņidhana—surrender to a higher power. Envision the higher power as the greater whole. Dedicate your practice to the spirit of Renee Nicole Good, to Hind Rajab, to any number of beloved martyrs who’ve joined the ancestors. Break yourself open. Weep sacred tears.
BKS Iyengar said, “Yoga teaches us how to stand on our own two feet.” Get up on your own two feet. Stand strong, resist with all your might. We stand together.
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