Melanating the Mat: Queer, Black Yogis Work to Encourage More POC Participation
Raven Ekundayo (Image courtesy of Facebook)
On a recent Sunday, on an unassuming corner in West Atlanta, an industrial-style gym transformed into a modern-day ashram. There, with the gritty rhymes of rap artists like Yella Beezy blaring in the background, dozens of Black and Brown people contorted their bodies into positions like high dragon, mermaid, and tree pose—reclaiming the ancient eastern art of yoga to find health and a little peace.
Countless people of color start their year with a handful of classic rituals—often a soul food meal, a vision board, and a lofty plan to get a snatched waist. The latter usually leads to a mad dash to the nearest gym—but across Atlanta, fitness professionals are encouraging people of color to add yoga to their list of ways to get summertime fine.
They’re offering “trap yoga”, Christian-themed classes, and even LGBTQ+ friendly practices as they try to woo a community that’s long viewed yoga as unwelcoming to all but the white wealthy elite.
“Allowing people—cishet people, queer people, trans, nonbinary people—to have conversations in spaces together allows them to begin a dialogue—that hopefully opens them up to be able to get to a point where they can have these types of classes where they’re not feeling insecure.”
Originating in India as a largely spiritual practice of moving meditation, yoga has spent decades growing in popularity in America, gaining a reputation as a mainstream way to stay in shape. Over that time, it’s also gained a reputation as the exclusive minion of lithe, young white women—a sentiment encapsulated in books, blogs, and rap lyrics alike.
“That’s an understandable image. That’s who, for a very long time, had access to yoga and who felt like it was their practice,” says Shawn Moore, an Atlanta yoga instructor who works to trample that assumption. “I have enjoyed being in the space to really counteract that representation. I’m the exact opposite, a big, Black, gay guy.”
Too often, people of color see hyper-flexible white women as the face of yoga and feel there’s no room for them in the practice, says Raven Ekundayo, a self-identified queer Black man who teaches online and in spaces throughout Atlanta.
“One of the biggest misconceptions is that people feel you have to be able to do flips to be a yogi or yogini. Yoga is more than asanas (poses).”
- Raven Ekundayo
“One of the biggest misconceptions is that people feel you have to be able to do flips to be a yogi or yogini,” he says. “Yoga is more than asanas (poses).”
Cultural conflicts, toxic masculinity, financial limitations, religion—insiders say all have played a role in keeping yoga exclusionary. They’re employing everything from culturally relevant music to gender-neutral language to bring more people of color to yoga mats. Ironically, they’re the ones instructors say may benefit most from the stress-relieving practice.
“Quite often we as Black people, as queer people are often always in motion… we feel we need to prove ourselves,” Moore says. “Creating safe places for people to just come in and be who they are, no matter what that looks like, is really a beautiful thing.”
What Yoga Is, What Yoga Isn’t
Some 36 million Americans are believed to practice yoga, which involves a series of postures ranging from elegant crane-like balances to lying flat on a mat.
Yet ask the average person of color to define yoga, and the answer almost always includes elaborate gymnastic feats. Instructors say it’s one of the biggest hurdles to getting people of color interested.
“It deters people because they’re like, ‘Oh yoga is this. I have to do handstands. If I can’t do these things, I need to stay away from yoga’,” Ekundayo says.
In actuality, the practice of yoga includes dozens of styles, ranging from the flowing Vinyasa yoga Ekundayo favors, to the more restorative Yin style Moore teaches. Creative variations include chair yoga and even options for people with disabilities. Promoting more than just the flashy moves popular on Instagram is one of the first steps in getting people of color to start—and stick with—yoga, Moore says.
“Maybe they’ve tried it one way, not realizing there are many styles of yoga,” Moore says. “When I first entered yoga, I thought, ‘I don’t know if this is it,' but then I found the right style.”
“'Maybe they’ve tried it one way, not realizing there are many styles of yoga. When I first entered yoga, I thought, ‘I don’t know if this is it,' but then I found the right style.’”
- Shawn J. Moore
Yet other misconceptions remain. For one, Ekundayo says many would-be yogis fear the Indian practice is in direct conflict with their Christian religion. Prices, meanwhile, can run up to $60 per session, making some people of color assume yoga is a hobby they can’t afford.
“That has a lot to do with Western culture. It's been made to feel as though it’s something that from a financial point of view doesn’t seem attainable,” says Ekundayo, who makes a point to offer free group classes.
But perhaps the biggest hurdles are psychological, with discomfort surrounding gender and body stereotypes being the top offenders, the men say. Moore recalls experiences teaching at Morehouse College, Atlanta’s famed, historically Black men’s school.
“They would say hey, I didn’t know this was for us,” he says. “There’s not as many men, there’s not as many Black men, there’s not as many Black gay men teaching.”
When Black men do consider entering yoga spaces, Ekundayo says they’re often deterred by deep-seated insecurities surrounding masculinity. He’s recently led community conversations around the topic.
“Oftentimes it was easy for me to find queer people that felt comfortable being able to do yoga in spaces with one another, but getting our cishet brothers to feel the same ways was a journey,” he says. “They saw it as being ‘feminine’.”
Other people of color worry that they are too big to not only get into asanas, but feel comfortable in a class full of thin, white counterparts. That’s recently become a hot topic, with black yogis nationwide speaking out against white-washed yoga spaces that leave black practitioners feeling uneasy.
Ekundayo has seen the comfort dynamic play out firsthand: The pandemic has brought him an influx of older Black women willing to try yoga only after he offered online courses they could do in their own homes.
There’s more at stake than great beach bodies when people of color feel uneasy in fitness spaces: Non-Hispanic blacks are 1.3 times more likely to be obese as compared to non-Hispanic whites in America, with Black women having had the highest rates of obesity in the nation. Yoga is one way to cut down on those numbers—but people have to feel comfortable enough to try it.
Melanating The Mat
It’s easy to spot the complex reasons yoga hasn’t gone mainstream among Black and Brown people. Less easy is breaking down mental barriers decades in the making.
Both Ekundayo and Moore are willing to try.
In addition to offering budget-friendly classes, Ekundayo’s The Love Movement hosts a podcast and community conversations aimed at creating a more welcoming environment. Topics range from imposter syndrome to religious trauma, all with a yogic backdrop.
“Allowing people—cishet people, queer people, trans, nonbinary people—to have conversations in spaces together allows them to begin a dialogue,” he says. “That hopefully opens them up to be able to get to a point where they can have these types of classes where they’re not feeling insecure.”
Moore, meanwhile, focuses on language, encouraging online practitioners to share their preferred pronouns and making sure he uses gender and body-inclusive terms for yoga positioning. Both instructors also offer variations of poses that can make them more accessible for all body types.
“There’s always a big portion in which we talk about language to make sure we’re being considerate of folks with larger bodies. Those subtle things that might feel small to the yoga teacher might be world-changing to someone who comes into a space.”
- Shawn J. Moore
“There’s always a big portion in which we talk about language to make sure we’re being considerate of folks with larger bodies,” Moore says. “Those subtle things that might feel small to the yoga teacher might be world-changing to someone who comes into a space.”
Indeed, Moore says, the biggest onus is on instructors to bring Black and Brown people of all stripes onto the mat.
“Anyone can teach yoga,” Moore says. “The real work is how do you hold space for the different bodies that come into your class. What are you doing to set up the space to feel inviting and comforting?”
Other Content You May Enjoy
Dionne Walker-Bing is an Atlanta-based reporter with over a decade of experience. Walker offers a distinct voice and unique skill for capturing the stories of diverse communities, perfected while writing for The Associated Press, The Capital-Gazette (Annapolis), and a variety of other daily publications throughout the Southeast. When she’s not writing features, Walker is busy traveling, crafting, or perfecting her vinyasa yoga skills.