YOGAJOURNAL.COM 111PHOTO: MARGUERITE SEGER
My parents were born and raised in India, but they didn’t practice
yoga, so my exposure to it wasn’t through them. They immigrated
to the States with my brothers in 1965 and my sister and I were born
in Lubbock, Texas. Growing up in Lubbock, we had a decent-size
Indian community, but it wasn’t like growing up in a bigger city
where you might have more interaction with your culture and
language. I was a dancer, and I was introduced to yoga in college
when one of my dance instructors recommended that I try it.
I found a fantastic yoga teacher and was hooked.
After college I moved to New York City and immediately started
looking for places to practice yoga. I went to several studios, and
I kept getting pulled back to one that incorporated chanting and
philosophy. I found those elements made the practice a signifi cantly
deeper experience. Within six years, I trained as a teacher.
Early on in my teaching career, a fellow teacher referred to me as
“exotic” and told me it could be a boon to my career. At the time, I
didn’t know what to do with her comment, although I knew I didn’t
like it. Exotic means of a distant or foreign country, so apparently I
have the look of a faraway place. Ironically, that place is India, which
is where my parents and yoga are from! But... I’m American. She was
separating the fact that I'm an American from the dominant (white)
yoga culture in America. Thus, making me an “exotic” yoga teacher.
Another time I was chatting with a fellow teacher after she’d
taken my class. I asked her for some feedback since she was senior
to me and a teacher I respected. I used to chant a lot in my classes,
and it became one of the main reasons students would come. This
teacher smiled and told me that I had “one of those nasally Indian-
sounding voices.” It was the closest she was coming to a compliment
without it really being one. She was putting me in a category of
“diff erent” or “other.” My nasally Indian-sounding voice was not like
the more accepted version of white voices singing Indian mantras.
And then there are the teachers who shy away from using
Sanskrit altogether or dismiss its signifi cance. I once was taking
a class taught by a friend of mine. She was teaching a peak pose with
a long Sanskrit name, perhaps Eka Pada Rajakapotasana. She was
teaching with great detail to alignment, and then she said the name
of the pose, and followed it with “But you don’t really need to know
that.” Then she snickered under her breath. I was fl oored. Why
did she do that? How did she think that was OK? When you aren’t
willing to teach or learn the Sanskrit names of the poses, it’s as if
you’re just taking what suits your yoga practice and leaving the rest.
The same could be said of philosophy, pranayama, mantra, mudra,
and meditation. I try to remind students that Sanskrit is simply
another language. It takes time to feel confi dent using it, as it does
when learning any new language. Sanskrit is the language of yoga,
and using it is a way to show reverence for something that comes
from a culture other than your own.
I often experience a mix of feelings—loving what I do and whatI’m continuing to learn about yoga and myself,
but also wanting to quit teaching altogether
when I read articles that discuss the many
ways Westerners have stolen from India and
Indian culture. There is an inherent ambiguity
in being an Indian-American yoga teacher
who is struggling to reconcile the impact of
colonization and theft of traditions. I don’t
want to participate in anything that contributes
to that theft. But if I quit, that’s one less yoga
teacher of Indian descent. That’s one less
teacher who is a person of color. It’s not like the
industry is going away if I leave.
And so I choose to stay. And to be more
outspoken about the things that matter to me.
I care about better representing myself and
the country and culture of my family. Labeling
me as exotic is not a compliment; this is a way
of trying to single out my “diff erences,” and
it moves us away from seeing the common
humanity in all, which is what yoga is ultimately
about. Using the Sanskrit name of a pose is not
a punchline; treating it this way is mocking the
culture yoga comes from. Ideally, yoga teachers
should be teaching from an informed place,
and all trainings should include Sanskrit, the
language of yoga, to establish some baseline
integrity and to ensure that new teachers feel
educated enough to use it.CHOICE WORDS
From being called “exotic” to hearing fellow teachers mock Sanskrit, a yoga
teacher explores the hurtful things she’s experienced in the studio.
BY SANGEETA VALLABHANSANGEETA
VALLABHAN
has been studying
movement for more
than 30 years, fi rst
through dance and
then yoga. She has
been teaching yoga
in New York City for
over 15 years. As the
creator of solemarch,
Sangeeta encourages
students to use the
practices of yoga to
continually seek out
their own voice and
their true sense of
self. Learn more at
sangeetavallabhan.com.