Monday, April 13, 2020

Yoga and the Unseemly Face of Capitalism in a Pandemic


What is this moment we are living in?

Here’s the view from Detroit as of April 12, 2020:
-       Our Black elders are dying. We are reeling from the shock of the transition of one of our most prominent and beloved patriarchs, Baba Kilindi Iyi, a few days ago. He was a picture of health and mental sharpness. While another of our babas was struggling to recover from Covid19 at home, his mother died. Our Michigan State Representative, tireless 44 year-old social justice warrior, Isaac Robinson, also died of complications of Covid19. To name just a few.

-       The shelter down the street from us appears deserted. Where are our houseless “sheltering in place”? Who is keeping count? And how many residents and staff workers were exposed before the closure?

-       The water shut-offs have been suspended. But many are still waiting to get their water turned back on. We’ve never understood better what it means to say none are safe until ALL are safe. When our neighbors are at risk, we are all at risk.

https://www.bridgemi.com/michigan-health-watch/black-communities-hit-harder-coronavirus-michigan-not-just-detroit


I could go on and on but, hopefully, you get the picture. It may be a very different picture in your city and neighborhood, but, hate to say, Detroit has always been ahead of the curve.

Meanwhile, we persist. Iyengar Yoga Detroit Collective is teaching exclusively online, and managing to stay afloat. In some ways, these are glory days for Iyengar Yoga. With the proliferation of online classes, we have an unprecedented opportunity to study with teachers across the nation and across the globe. It’s amazing to have access to so much excellence.

For a price.

One Black colleague, who, herself, got swept up in sampling Iyengar Yoga worldwide, commented, “It’s become a playground for the white wealthy.” At first, $15-$30 for a class doesn’t sound exorbitant in the Iyengar Yoga world. But many of these classes, especially with the “rock stars,” are attracting 50, 70, 100, or more students at a time. Since the Zoom classroom has no space limitations, there’s no harm in allowing everyone to enroll. When a class is so big, however, the teacher loses the ability to see and interact with each student. They have to scroll through the pages, and all they get are thumbnails and inadequate camera angles. Individualized feedback is scanty, and the teacher is either monologuing or busy scrolling and scanning screens. For the student, it’s more or less the same as a pre-recorded class.

At a lowball $15 a pop and 100 students, that’s $1500 of income. I don’t begrudge anyone’s need to pay their bills. And like everyone else, we are still paying rent and utlities on our empty brick and mortar studio. But can we put this revenue into perspective?

I mean, people are dying in the streets. Cities are using refrigerated trucks as temporary morgues. If you’re not seeing any of this, it must be because you do not live in majority Black and Brown cities. Before herd immunity is established, about half of us must contract Covid19. Working from home is a luxury, and not feasible for so many, who have now lost all their income. Low-wage workers are now in highest demand and at highest risk, and suffering disproportionately.

In the face of all this loss and suffering, I am having a hard time abiding with what feels like profiteering in the global Iyengar Yoga community. Resourceful and opportunistic Americans are promoting favorite international teachers to do online residencies and teach for them. Like everyone, I’m thrilled and excited at the chance to be in these classes without having to travel. Then some questions start to arise in me.

All of this is growing out of our hunger for the master teacher and guide. We’ve lost Guruji. We’ve lost Geetaji. Abhijata is no longer touring. Manouso is officially de-certified. Who’ve we got?

Is this not a golden opportunity to cultivate the inner teacher? Do we not already have the books on our shelves, and the mat, blocks, and chair in the corner? Do we not have the years of study under our yoga belts? Do we not already have our peers, friends, and colleagues to study with? As an activist involved in direct action, I used to make the distasteful joke that we needed to learn yoga so that when we were imprisoned we would still be able to practice, because all you need is a 2 x 6 foot space for a mat. (When this lock-down is over, I will no longer be cracking this joke, especially as Covid19 spreads like wildfire through tightly packed prisons.)

Is this not a golden opportunity to decolonize our minds from hierarchy and authority and that insatiable hunger for approval and status? What is it within us that hankers for contact with the latest, most popular, acclaimed, celebrity figure? Social media has been an incredible learning tool for Iyengar Yoga. You should see all the posts I have saved on Instagram for variations of asanas I want to try on a rainy day. I love the creativity and resourcefulness and playfulness! But social media doesn’t always reward what is best for us. What if the work my body needs on a particular day is slow and deep and subtle in ways that cannot be captured on a camera? The media loves flash and color and music and novelty, and so do I. But it’s not always what I need, and it may feed a part of me that is already overstimulated and glutted. It may feed a part of me which is fat-phobic, ageist, and ableist, to be perfectly honest. Is that how I want to feed my mind and senses?

Now getting back to the $$$ part.

Just as it’s unethical for medical suppliers, food producers and sellers, and others providing pandemic necessities, to be profiteering, we all should, instead, be creating ways to make the essential practice of Iyengar Yoga more and more accessible. Here are some ways of doing that:

1.     Pay teachers hourly. If you want to reward experience, create a sliding scale from, say $30-$200/hour.

2.     Cap classes at ___# of students if you want to ensure that students get an analogous experience to the live classroom, and all are able to be seen and receive individualized instruction (20-25?).

3.     Especially if there is no cap on enrollment, make all online classes sliding scale/donation. Don’t make low-income students have to ask for a scholarship, or pay it off with their labor, which is already underappreciated. They are already beleaguered and marginalized. They should not have to earn the right to take a class by placing themselves in a subordinate position. Provide guidance and recommendations on how much to pay by suggesting a scale such as:
-       0-$5 if you are unemployed
-       $6-$15 if you are partially employed
-       $16-30 if you are financially comfortable

4.     A famous teacher will get hundreds of students. Hosts should pay the teacher a respectable hourly wage, keep what they need to pay their bills, and re-allocate the rest of the funds. The famous senior teacher does not teach to rake in money. Here is a beautiful invitation to create the interdependent, anti-capitalist society many of us yearn for. Who among your students is completely out of work? Who is at risk of losing their housing or healthcare? Who needs groceries? (If you don’t know anyone who is struggling, it means you have lost touch with the working class, and that your Iyengar Yoga community has become an enclave of the privileged. What does that bode for us, and for Iyengar Yoga in the 21st century?) You could also give the money away to nonprofits and other organizations working on the frontlines of pandemic care and relief, or to Guruji’s Bellur Trust.

5.     The elephant in every yoga studio in the West remains the issue of cultural appropriation. Frankly, every practitioner who is not South Asian is appropriating yoga. The questions are: how are we minimizing harm? How are we crediting our sources, through our words, actions, and finances? How are we sharing the subject, rather than exploiting it for personal benefit, financial and otherwise? What is our relationship to the practice, to tradition, and to our lineage? How are we evolving the tradition without discarding or disrespecting it? How do we handle the underlying issues of caste, and the fact that almost all yoga of the diaspora has come through a Brahmin lens? Refraining from profiting from yoga is one of many ways we can repair some of the harm of cultural appropriation.

This is just the beginning of a new way of being in community, both local and global. Many of us have been saying that we can no longer go back to the pre-pandemic grind.  A month or more of spatial distancing has given us the space to appreciate the cleaner air, the chirping birds and wildlife, time reconnecting with family and elders, and many other benefits, despite the suffering and irreparable losses of life.

The more holistic, well-rounded way of post-pandemic life will not just happen. We must create it, and reinforce it over and over again. Many visionaries, philosophers, social critics, and scientists are saying this pandemic is a result of capitalism gone amok. So how will we redesign our economy and lifestyles? Start now. Stop treating yoga as a commodity. Stop seeking out the silver bullet of a perfect teacher. Cultivate horizontal relationships, not vertical ones. Throw open the gates and expand your circle. Open your eyes to what is happening in Black and Brown communities in New York, New Orleans, and Detroit. Let your heart break open. Step off the treadmill, now and forever more, and let your conscience guide your next steps. Just as Guruji redirected his wealth to his home village of Bellur, we can redirect our resources for the betterment of our communities.

May it be so.

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

#54

to love more fiercely,
profoundly,
and unconditionally,
and to expect that love from those around me.

to hold myself to a higher level of accountability,
exceed my perceived limits,
and intensify the transformation which launched my birth.

to hold the past, my ancestors, and stories of my cultures,
and reimagine and heal them as i step into the future.

to forgive and heal myself for all the harm i have done,
consciously and unconsciously,
deliberately and accidentally,
and open myself to divine grace,
so that i commit no further harm.
but when i do,
to catch myself, and make repair.

to embrace the age i am,
and the age i am living in.
to remember that i am choosing to be here now,
and chosen as part of the transition.

to shed the trappings of ego: shame, fear, pride,
grudges that hold me back,
and everything else i no longer have time for.

to tolerate no bullshit,
to demand equity,
to embody nothing less.

to rinse myself of all the old stories
that no longer serve me.

to glow more unapologetically,
and invite your divine light to shine brighter.

written on my 54th birthday, 31 october 2017