Citing Our Sources & Squishing the Pill Bug Tendency to Honor Yoga’s Roots

This post is the second in a series addressing yoga, history, spirituality, and social justice.

In my last post on cultural appropriation, I set out to explore the questions that have so many white-bodied students of yogas balled up these days. I mean like a pill bug. I find myself wondering why more of us — cisgender, straight, white, women (and men) teaching yoga and leading teacher trainings — aren’t having this conversation publicly. Are we afraid that putting our voices out there is centering ourselves? (It may be.) Are we afraid that if we do speak we will say the wrong things — and even offend people? (We will.) Are we afraid we will have to acknowledge where we got it — and are still getting it — wrong despite our best efforts? (We are.)

As I write, the word “afraid” is right there, isn’t it? And the word “wrong.” And yet as students of yoga, we know when we hear fear knocking, it's the opportunity for an opening. So, right now, I commit to throwing open the windows and doors and letting the winds of Grace air some shit out — without making myself wrong. Instead, I acknowledge my ignorance and recommit myself to my mantra, “When I know better, I do better.” Are you with me? (I know you are, thank you.) And also I’m taking this road alone because after all, I did declare that “I intend to specifically hold myself accountable to unearth to what extent Namaspa and I sterilize or glamorize yoga.” I’m challenging myself to explore:

  • Is cultural appropriation happening in our community and in ourselves as individuals? If so, how?

  • How can we correct or rectify it?

  • How can we honor and not appropriate yoga?

But, where to begin? The history teacher in me says start by ‘defining your terms’ so I can speak to what is actually being asked of me.

In her book, Embrace Yoga’s Roots, DAIE educator Susanna Barkataki says, “Cultural appropriation is when someone uses someone else's culture, including practices, symbols, rituals, fashion, or other elements from a target or minority culture, without considering the source, origins, or people of that culture.”

She refines this by establishing “two criteria that must be satisfied for there to be cultural appropriation when borrowing or using another's culture”:

1. Cultural appropriation involves power and dominance.

2. It involves doing emotional and psychological harm.

Ok, got it. Using this as our premise, let’s unpack this one piece at a time.

First, concerning the criteria of ‘power and dominance,’ some context. In modern history, European nations used the ‘might makes right’ mindset to colonize and exploit people and places with less systemic power. They used their guns, germs, steel, power, privilege, and dominance to take over land and ravage resources and labor. Barkataki further explains, “Groups in positions of power colonize a set of ideas and practices — in other words, cultural riches. This sector deals with information. It produces, manipulates, distributes, and markets information products. It is taken and claimed by the dominant culture without credit to where it originated.”

Those are some serious verbs — the kind of verbs that turn peeps into pillbugs. But she doesn’t stop there. Barkataki also invites us to ask ourselves if we do these things “without credit to where it originated” and “without considering the source, origins, or people of that culture.” She’s not trying to make anyone wrong. She’s just asking us to be freagin’ answerable.

She does not give us a checklist we can conquer so we feel good about ourselves. (Well, actually she does, and it’s a resource, not a shortcut.) Instead, she explains, “It is important to understand that to truly combat cultural appropriation takes critical thinking. You'll need to consider some questions and ask yourself about cultural appropriation, rather than look to an outside authority to determine answers for you. No one of us can speak for all of us. There is no final rule book.” I respect that Barkataki removes herself as the authority on the subject and instead offers us the yogic practice of svadhyaya — internal inspection — and puts the responsibility on us to consider a really simple question. How do we (and the actions we take) contribute to either Unity or Separation?

She is asking us to first notice and then hold ourselves accountable for the actions taken — directly or indirectly, intentionally or unintentionally — AND then leaves us to explore and implement different actions we can take to honor and embrace yoga’s roots. The Bhagavad Gita teaches us that yoga is sacred action taken while renouncing the results. So we must do the things — have the public and private conversations, sit with ourselves in spacious, compassionate contemplation — then do our sacred duty around how and why we practice yoga.

So I ask myself, do Namaspa or I do this? Do I/we — as the dominant culture — take, claim, produce, manipulate, distribute, and market information products without credit to where it originated, without considering the source, origins, or people of that culture?

Short answer. Yes. I do all these verbs. I do all these actions. I do all these things.

I have taken (gotten, helped myself to, consumed, accepted, adopted, used, stolen) yoga. I have claimed (asserted, declared, and demanded my right to) yoga. I have produced (generated, created, effected, and demonstrated) yoga on a public stage. I have manipulated (molded, maneuvered, handled physically, and changed) it to suit my desires. I have distributed (assigned, dispersed, scattered, shared) and marketed (advertised, displayed, and offered) yoga for sale as an information product.

And I just gotta get flat with that.

YES, I do all those things. AND now I must ask: Do I do it “without credit to where it originated, without considering the source, origins, or people of that culture?”

YES, ...

…AND it’s called, “Cite your freagin’ sources, people!” I have unleashed this Kraken on many a history student for failing to do so. And that’s what Barkataki is challenging us to do.

When I cite my sources, I acknowledge and honor what came before me. I point to the shoulders upon whom I stand and say, “I see you, hear you, thank you, and respectfully carry forward… (fill in the blank).” It enables me to embrace my roots and leaves a trail for others to follow back in time and space to place.

So, again, do Namaspa or I do this? Do we — as the dominant culture — take, claim, produce, manipulate, distribute, and market information products without credit to where it originated, without considering the source, origins, or people of that culture?

Some questions are worth asking twice.

YES, I have taken (gotten, helped myself to, consumed, accepted, adopted, and used) yoga, AND I/we also work hard to understand and teach the history of yoga “not from the viewpoint of the executioners” (Howard Zinn, 1982) but from the perspective of the colonized people of India and Africa. I have traced and acknowledged my yogic, spiritual, and academic lineages and made it a requirement of my yoga teachers in training to do the same. I’ve recently begun to integrate Spiritual Lineage Acknowledgments into my yoga classes.

YES, I have gotten, consumed, and helped myself to big ol’ cereal-bowl-sized servings of this practice, AND I’m/we’re committed to it as a whole system — in the form of asana, meditation, inquiry, pranayama, pratyahara, service, study, and devotion to God. I/we do not treat yoga as only a physical workout. We consider it a spiritual practice with physical elements and do not judge those who use asana strictly as exercise. And for me/us, it is holy work so we treat it as such.

YES, I have accepted and adopted yogic principles, AND I/we use them as cornerstones upon which I/we build my/our entire personal and professional life. I/we have not picked them apart and just snacked on the tasty bits. All of Namaspa’s personal and professional relationships are anchored in the Yamas and Niyamas through our Credo. When any problems arise within the business, we go right back to our credo and the yogic principles it contains. Additionally, Namaspa does not sponsor or participate in events that use alcohol or recreational drugs alongside yoga practice.

YES, I have claimed yoga (asserted, declared, and demanded my right to it). Perhaps you might think this is my privilege talking, and perhaps it is... AND yet, I do not believe I own it. I do believe yoga is a gift to all humankind from the Divine AND is thus a basic human right that should not be denied to anyone.

YES, I have produced (generated, created, and demonstrated) yoga on a public stage in my studios, distributed (assigned, dispersed, scattered, shared), marketed (advertised, displayed, and offered yoga for sale), AND used our platforms to be a stand for issues that elevate conversations — and hopefully realities — related to inclusivity, diversity, equity, and unity. I/we have tried to be responsible in how we leverage the privilege we have in pursuit of social justice. We have made the yoga we produce accessible to all body types and economic circumstances with our class styles, online options, Fresh Start and Ambassador Programs, and free classes and teacher training scholarships for BIPOC and financial hardship through the Namaspa Foundation.

AND, I’m just gonna say it.

YES, I make money selling yoga classes and teacher trainings — AND, I believe I have a right to do so. I will not make myself wrong for this, and I will not shame myself. I do not believe that is what Susanna Barkataki and other educator-activists are asking us to do. I think they are asking us — (literally) for the Love of God — share yoga AND please do so responsibly.

So, YES, I have manipulated (molded, maneuvered, handled physically, and changed) yoga to suit my desires, AND I/we do so mindfully and intentionally. Namaspa and I are committed to staying connected to and honoring our lineages, AND since yoga means to yoke, connect, and unite, we believe we must integrate our own lived experiences into the yoga we practice and teach.

As we study yoga and use it as a filter through which to view and guide our lives, how can we not braid our own interpretations of the wisdom traditions into the long plaits of this very personal practice? Yogic wisdom is not ours, rather it comes through the ages to us. Yoga meets us where we are — in time and space. It helps us navigate the world we live in right now and is ever-evolving. The way each of us perceives yoga in our body, mind, and heart influences and alters it. For me personally, I think this is what is meant by the adage, “There are many paths to God.” For some, yoga is the traditional path and actions detailed in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. For others, yoga lives in long walks in nature. For still others, it manifests in crocheting a blanket for a beloved. Yoga is an intimate practice, and we play with the clay of it until it acquires a form known only to me and God. I work with it — as it works on me — AND therefore we are both changed.