Yoga and Gender

Historically, yoga has belonged in the domain of men. It was developed by and for male bodies, and often draws on the language of male experience.

Consider, for example, the Virabhadrasana, or Warrior, series of poses, which depict bodies in battle poses. (Click here to see Warrior I, II, and III.)

Yet in the United States yoga studios are overrun with female practitioners. As teachers we are taught to expect less than 20 percent of our students to be men in a general, public class. It would seem that part of the westernization of yoga has been the feminization of it, as well.

I became acutely aware of this at a large yoga conference in San Francisco in 2005.

During the few days of my visit to the Yoga Journal conference I had experienced so many good things, but I had found that I felt out of place. Not out of place because of my skills and knowledge (I was mostly taking classes intended for yoga teachers), but out of place with my short hair and geeky glasses. I’ve never been a fashion plate in yoga classes, preferring t-shirts and plain yoga pants over anything bare or tight or too concerned with fashion. Most of the classes I had attended as a student were pretty low-key, and almost anything goes at the small-town studio where I teach in Northern California. And so, suddenly I found myself surrounded by, what felt like, throngs of women in low-slung lycra yoga pants, wearing bindis and henna tattoos, and sparkly yoga-themed jewelry. Long flowing hair seemed to abound, and hallway conversations had the girly vibe of a sorority mixer.

There were some men at the conference, but I didn’t see anyone else who looked like me, or at least like I felt in this crowd. (Later I heard from a male participant that he found the predominantly female environment to be overwhelming.)

On the fourth day of the conference, I was taking a day-long workshop about using yoga to help heal back pain. The class was being led by a prominent teacher who has been a contributor to the magazine, and a reputation for being one of the top Iyengar-trained teachers in the United States.

His workshop was popular and there were about 70 of us in the room. Part of the time we gathered together for lecture and questions, and part of the time we were on our mats, practicing.

During one of the lecture gatherings in the center of the room, I raised my hand and respectfully asked an appropriate question. At that that point, this teacher took the opportunity to give me a public and improptu lecture about how he felt about traditional gender roles, and how much he appreciated the fact his wife has long hair, wears skirts and dresses, and behaves in ways “befitting a woman”. Then he returned to my question about the psoas muscle.

You could hear a collective gasp in the room. People looked around nervously and cast glances my way to see how I would react. I was pretty dumbfounded. After all, this was in San Francisco, and I certainly wasn’t outlandish by Bay Area standards. Some might say I look urban, or minimalist, or like a forty-something Northern California lesbian, which I am, but I’m definitely not masculine.

On the way back to our mats, one of the other participants asked me what I was going to do about his behavior, which she perceived as an unwarranted attack on me. I thought it over and decided to stay for the rest of the day. I’m glad I did. I learned some very useful information from this man, proof that we stand on the backs of our teachers, whether or not we agree with them in every aspect of life. But the incident has definitely stayed in my thoughts, which is why I’m writing this post.

It made me wonder what the yoga experiences of other women, less mainstream and feminine than myself, are like. Do they find comfort on the mat and in classes, or are they bypassing yoga for other activities like team sports, weight lifting, and cycling, that don’t have the feminine feel?

I asked around. Some of my butch friends said they had tried yoga classes, but felt out of place, others said they would never consider going. Some confessed to practicing yoga privately, in their living rooms with videotapes.

So when I heard about a series of yoga classes being taught in the East Bay area specifically for butch women, I decided to contact one of the teachers and ask about her experience with this class.

Over a bowl of tea soup in San Francisco’s lovely Samovar tea shop and restaurant, Skeeter Barker, explained how the class she co-teachers with Richelle Donigan came to be.

“The best classes that attempt to offer ‘a safe space for everyone,’ can’t, by virtue of the definition,” Skeeter said, explaining that a open environment, no matter how accepting or gentle, may not be safe enough for women who feel apart from the norm in their gender identity or looks. So they decided to create a class that would offer that safe space for women like themselves.

With her short hair and arms covered in tattoos, Skeeter looks refreshingly unlike a cover model for a yoga magazine. And, she notes, her co-teacher Richelle is African-American, bringing with her another layer of understanding for a group traditionally underrepresented in yoga classes.

Each of their classes opens with a circle of sharing, and Skeeter says she can see the “armor and protection” these women bring to class begin to drop, as they realize they can let their guard down.

“The class offers a safe space for students to come with their whole self,” she says, noting the importance of being able to celebrate themselves “proudly and strongly as butch women.”

She says “the heart-opening” of yoga offers many women a way to deal with pain they’ve carried about their self-image and past hurts. “And then they can carry this opening into the world with them.”

Skeeter’s Anusara-inspired classes don’t shy away from partner poses, in which one student may have to spot or assist another. When I asked how this works in an all-butch environment, she says very well.

“There’s lots of butch bonding, and lots of support.”

Richelle and Skeeter’s on-going Butch Yoga Class in the East Bay is held Fridays at 8:30 a.m. at Hand to Hand, 5680 San Pablo at Stanford, in Oakland. (UPDATE ADDED 1/30/08: This class is currently on hiatus, although women interested in butch yoga are welcome to contact Skeeter at the email address below.)

There is hope that a regular San Francisco class for butch women will follow, although it should be noted that both Skeeter and Richelle teach open, public classes at Yoga Kula in San Francisco, a welcoming studio in the city’s Mission district that attracts a very diverse crowd (the studio was formerly Yoga Sangha).

Information on any of the classes is available from skeeter_sf@yahoo.com.

Namasté.