Confessions of a Fat,
Black Yoga Teacher
Dianne Bondy
“My mission in life is not merely to survive,
but to thrive; and to do so with some passion,
some compassion, some humor, and some style.”—Maya Angelou
I am a fat, black yoga teacher. Yeah, I said it! Being called fat can be worse than a racial slur. I’ve had to endure both, and what saved me was yoga.
Society sets an impossible standard to live up to. Like most women, my struggles with weight and body image started young, and I have struggled with these issues most of my life. I’ve been really thin and fit, really thin and unfit, and I’ve been really fat and fit. I have also just been fat. I’ve done it all. Not long after my eighth birthday, I started gaining weight. Much to my parent’s horror, I was becoming fat. In their eyes, nothing could be worse than being fat. My father especially hated it, and he thought he could shame me into being thin. He took every opportunity to humiliate and taunt me about my weight. He actually pulled me aside when I was about 10 years old and made a point of telling me I was a disappointment because I was fat and he’d never wanted a fat daughter. He relentlessly teased me in front of friends, family, and strangers.
On rare occasions he tried to be a decent father, but the biggest lesson he taught me was to be ashamed of myself. I think a lot of what he was trying to teach me was that being different was going to be a big challenge, and adding fatness to the mix would be a death sentence in modern society. A lasting lesson I learned from my dad was that I already had two strikes against me: I was black and a woman. The world would be cruel and discriminating based on these facts alone (let alone being fat). Being brown in a white world was going to be more than challenging, it was going to be daunting. It was something I could overcome; I just needed to be better than my best white counterpart to be considered worthy in this life. His words did not discourage me, though. Rather, they inspired me to be the best and to show the world that I would not, and cannot, live a mediocre life. Little did I know that yoga was going to be the vehicle that led down a path of great fulfillment and self-awareness!
No Charlie’s Angel
I grew up in Burlington, Ontario, a small town in Canada. (We called it Borington.) Growing up in one of the only black families in our neighborhood added to my feelings of insecurity and isolation. Everywhere you went you stuck out like a sore thumb or a big brown spot in the middle of a sea of white faces. Everyone knew who you were and what your family did. We were an interesting oddity to everyone. Today, we would have our own reality TV show.
The standard of beauty back then was one of blue eyes, blond hair, and thin bodies. I think of Farrah Fawcett and Charlie’s Angels when I think of the seventies and eighties. As a young black girl, I couldn’t relate to anything I saw on TV, in movies, or in magazines. Being different was the kiss of death growing up as a brown girl in primary and middle school, and I had very few role models. One of them was my mom, and we had yoga.
Mother/Daughter Bonding Time
It took finding yoga and developing a serious practice to start changing the way I felt about myself. When I started, though, I was still miles away from understanding that. My mother introduced me to yoga when I was about 3. She’d just had twins. She had her hands full and couldn’t leave the house. She had a book called Stay Young with Yoga (it was written in the 1950s and had funny pictures in it that fascinated me). There were no yoga or fitness models at this time, so it was just regular folks doing bendy things. This was my special mommy-and-me time when my brother and sister were napping.
My mom kept her yoga practice a secret. It was a time when yoga was the anti-culture—especially for people of color, who felt that yoga was something to be feared. A lot of black culture is steeped in deep religious beliefs, and it’s a sin to question or run counter to the teachings of your pastor. Many religious leaders at that time (and some still today) within the black community felt that yoga is a vehicle of evil. However, my yoga practice has taught me that yoga only makes your beliefs stronger. My mom reminded me that yoga was my own special practice and that was all that was important. “Just enjoy breathing, practicing, and taking time,” she would say.
Although I practiced next to my mother as a child, it was many more years before I fully began my journey with yoga. In high school and university, I fell into and out of many things designed to keep me skinny. I ran marathons, competed in fitness competitions, and taught hundreds of group fitness classes. These were distractions that kept my eating disorders and body image issues hidden. I thought that if I conquered my weight, I could conquer my feelings of inadequacy. Thus I ran on the hamster wheel of an unfulfilled life for years.
What Oprah Taught Me
I was taught that “Education is the greatest equalizer in modern times,” and I truly believed that. Education is an investment in self—much like yoga is. I chose a university far from where I grew up. I saw it as a chance to reinvent myself. I could go somewhere no one knew me and become anyone. I could leave behind the fat, black kid. I went away to university in Windsor, Ontario. I was so excited to be right across the river from a predominately black city and to be so close to a culture I longed to be a part of. It was uplifting to feel like I fit in, and when I stepped on the university campus, I was excited to be part of something great. I thought that a higher education was going to solve all my problems. People here were going to be mature and accepting, I just knew it. I had arrived for the best part of my life … or so I thought.
In my quest to be part of the group at university, I was reminded again that black folks did not do yoga. So I gave up my yoga practice, succumbing to the pressure of wanting to fit in. I did it because for the first time in my life, I wasn’t the only black person in the classroom and had the opportunity to fit in. I was in heaven, and I dove into black culture and enjoyed finally being part of a group.
I slowly learned, however, that giving up my practice didn’t make me happy, and I felt it was time to challenge the idea that black people didn’t do yoga! The catalyst for changing my mind about what people of color did was, yes, Oprah. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s the truth. She’s a pioneer, and she challenged people of color to think outside the box constructed by the dictates of society and religion. Oprah spoke like a yogi, and her personal philosophy appealed to me. She did things publicly that other people of color didn’t do, and she was loved for it. Oprah proved that people of color can do anything. I picked up that torch and ran with it.
Yoga Studio or High School?
When I began to immerse myself back in my yoga practice, I took classes at a number of studios. I believed yoga culture would be open and accepting. I was nervous, but I was confident that I would be welcomed. What I found instead is that I still felt woefully out of place.
Once again, I didn’t fit in. In fact, I often felt that I was back to square one: the big, fat, black blob in the sea of thin, young, white faces. It felt like high school all over again with judgment, cliquey groups, and exclusion. I sensed an underlying feeling of judgment as I stepped into each space. My big body belied my abilities. A fat yogi—how is this possible?
I distinctly remember going to an Ashtanga class and not being able to keep up because the “Ashtanga” I was practicing was really vinyasa, and I was confused. The teacher made comments throughout the practice that were diminishing to my spirit. She didn’t call me out directly, but it was known to the class that I was distracting and not welcome back.
It was this feeling of exclusion that got me thinking I needed to open my own space. I started doing some recon work, and I continued to practice at many of the studios and gyms in my city, quietly observing what I didn’t like and vowing to change it once I had my own space. I prayed and asked the powers that be for guidance, and my local church became my first yoga studio. The minister at my church felt that yoga would bring more people to church, and she supported my classes.
Being the Change
I put my intentions out there, and my classes grew. I made sure I taught to the people in the room, letting everyone know they could do it! The community at large embraced my message. I grew yoga from the small church hall into a full-time space. People would come through my doors from all different walks of life, including rolling in on wheelchairs, and they were welcomed. Our studio is known for its acceptance of diversity and its love of new students beginning the practice. To this day, people comment on what a welcoming space it is. It was this gift from my community that helped me open my heart to the idea that I was good enough to be a studio owner. I became the change I wanted to see in the studio.
Today yoga is becoming a lot more diverse. Speaking my mind and being seen in the yoga community has allowed me to connect to hundreds of people who practice yoga even though they aren’t always the ones we see in the media. People of all shapes, sizes, ages, abilities, class backgrounds, and shades practice yoga.
Most of my experiences in yoga have been restricted to my city. After years of training and teaching, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and head to Tucson to study yoga with some of the most advanced yoga teachers in the world. Once again, though, I was the only bigger-bodied black girl in the room. It was a devastating week spent openly crying on my mat in front of sixty advanced yoga students. I felt so lost. I’d dragged my family thousands of miles for what? I begged my husband to go home, and he told me I had to go back and face the music on my mat. Clearly, it was something I needed to work through, and it became a turning point for me. It made me realize that I can’t be only one who feels so lost.
That week taught me that doing advanced arm balances didn’t have to be my thing. It also taught me that I needed to create a diverse yoga space, help grow diverse teachers, and do my part in making yoga more accessible. I am tired of workshops and training where teachers say not everyone will be able to do this pose so some of you will have to watch. WHAT?! Inflexible people should not be mere spectators, paying money for workshops where they just watch the flexible doing yoga.
When I opened my feelings globally through writing about my experiences, others reached out to me and shared similar feelings about their yoga practices. I found that curvy-bodied teachers, teachers of color, teachers with varying gender identities and expressions, and students of all walks of life were united in the cause of expanding everyone’s perception of yoga, a practice that should be accessible to every body. It’s these connections that helped me refine my voice and gave me courage to move forward with my mission in yoga and diversity.
You Teach Yoga?
I’m always nervous when I head into a new venue to teach yoga. There was a time when I was also a little bit scared of being an imposter because I didn’t fit the yoga stereotype. When I enter a space, I am often met with the same reaction: “You teach yoga?” I usually get a once-over, and the judgment in their eyes is palpable.
I recently hosted a retreat at a beautiful yoga resort in Aruba. It just so happened that the owner of that spectacular retreat space was down for the week on his monthly visit to inspect the property. I was introduced to him, and I recognized “the look” right away when he asked twice if I was teaching the retreat. I noticed it again when it came time to teach and he began closely observing me. My teaching skills seemed to surprise him, and he praised my abilities. Why is it so shocking that a big person could be a halfway decent yoga teacher?
How do we shake up the yoga stereotypes and allow people to see yoga as it really is? We are not all white, able-bodied, super-flexible, thin, heterosexual beings. We are diverse in every way and it’s this diversity that makes life interesting.
We can change the misperception of what yoga looks like by encouraging people to become stewards of their own wellness. They don’t need external validation—they can find what they are looking for within themselves. And yoga can help them find it. They shouldn’t feel like they need permission to practice. Yoga is a vehicle to wellness; it’s about the mind-body-spirit connection. We don’t need to fit into these narrow yoga stereotypes to practice yoga. We must encourage people who feel marginalized and who are different that we need their uniqueness and experiences. We need to develop a conscious culture committed to social justice and equality for every body.
Turning Inward
Yoga is all about the breath, quieting the mind, and tuning into your true nature. The asana (or yoga pose) portion of yoga is discussed as the third limb in Patanjali’s sutras, which leads me to believe that it isn’t the most important part of the practice, but one of many equally important parts.
When we fail to offer modifications to struggling students, we create an exclusive club of the cans and cannots. The cans may have the unfair advantages or privileges, namely genetics and sometimes even a gymnastics background. The cannots may be (note: this doesn’t fit with the theme of body modifications) older, tighter, or bigger-bodied. Unfortunately, most yoga studios today don’t include the cannots, and here lies the problem. It already occurs in everyday society, and now we’ve allowed this to steep into our spiritual and wellness practices. Yoga is about what you can do, not what you cannot do.
Making Changes
How do you make your teacher trainings, workshops, and events accessible for everyone involved? You learn how to teach inclusively. My motto is “No Yogi Left Behind.” There is a place for everyone on the mat; we just have to change our mindset.
The key to bringing diversity to yoga is to have a diversity of teachers. Inclusion on the yoga mat means everyone is welcome—to teach and practice. How do you get bigger people to go to yoga classes? Have more bigger-bodied teachers. How do you get a more culturally diverse yoga class? You train culturally diverse yoga teachers to teach. We need to learn how to teach progressively so that students of varying abilities and experience levels can practice in the same room safely and comfortably.
We also need to be more inclusive and sensitive in how we speak. Language is powerful. When we hear the term “diversity,” most of us automatically think of people of color. But diversity exists on many levels. We are diverse within our cultures, our bodies, and our beliefs. Diversity refers to different socioeconomic classes, ages, races, genders, sexual orientations, and sizes. And yoga should be accessible to everyone in this diversity. In fact, it should be celebrated in all yoga classes.
Yoga studio owners and teachers need to offer classes that are truly accessible to every body—no matter that body’s size, age, level of flexibility, strength, or ability.
Every asana has a modification, and teachers should offer those modifications to their students. Teachers should make students aware that the person who is concentrating on their breathing, listening to their body, finding the version of the pose that they need, or taking breaks is “doing” yoga perfectly. And that they shouldn’t compare themselves to the person who is in the most advanced version of the pose. Completing an advanced version of a pose doesn’t make that person a better yogi. There is no better or worse in yoga.
Those of us who are different need to find, connect with, and support each other. We need to set aside the idea that we can’t just show up to the mat as ourselves. The people who are going to judge us based on our size, color, gender, or physical challenges are not truly practicing yoga.
My challenge to you is to change the culture, change the language, and change the idea of what yoga teachers and yoga students look like. Be a trailblazer. Share your uniqueness, your challenges, and your practice.
You have something powerful to offer the world.
Dianne Bondy is the founder of Yogasteya, an online yoga studio that caters to people of all shapes, sizes, and ethnic and cultural backgrounds. As a studio owner, full-time yoga teacher, writer, and public speaker, Dianne is passionate about empowering people to realize their full potential on and off the mat. www.yogasteya.com. Author photo by Erika Reid.