Why Queer Yoga Spaces Are Vital

This article originally appeared on Yoga Journal

"I'm not going to call you that," she said, her nose wrinkling in what appeared to be disgust.

My face tightened and started to flush. I was at a yoga conference in St. Louis, and had been delighted that participants were asked to share their pronouns on their name badges. I had dutifully written mine down-they/them/their-and had barely made it ten steps from the check-in table before a fellow conference participant stopped to make her pronouncement: "I'm not going to call you that."

"Please do," I said, rather meekly, worried about making a scene in a professional setting. I wanted to stand up for myself. I also wished someone else was there to witness what was happening, and perhaps to intervene on my behalf.

"It's just not correct," she insisted. "I'll call you 'she' or nothing at all."

"Don't call me anything then," I responded, feeling a little more confident, albeit deeply unseen. I walked away without another word.

In my hotel room later, I wished I had said more. I knew there were other transgender and non-binary people at the conference, and I hated to think that they were likely experiencing the same treatment, the same erasure. I wished there had been a way to educate the woman who had stepped into my path, to make her see me in my wholeness and treat me with affirmation, or at least with respect.

Why You Need to Own Responsibility

I am an educator and advocate, called to create inclusive spaces for self inquiry and inner work. In owning that role, it can be difficult not to feel a sense of responsibility when others show their ignorance, even when they're the ones causing me harm. It's tragically ironic that in the moments when those of us who experience systemic oppression need to be able to care for ourselves the most, we are too often faced with abject pressure to put others before ourselves. We are too often expected to prioritize someone else's feelings, comfort, and growth at times when we need to be soothed and supported. It's as if dominant culture were designed to burn us out.

In this case, the conference organizers had done just enough homework to know that sharing pronouns and providing gender-neutral restrooms and accommodations was important in minimizing the harm that's often inflicted upon trans people in yoga spaces and beyond. These were certainly steps in the right direction.

What was lacking, however, were educational resources that could have helped inform this woman's behavior. Participants weren't given community guidelines that might have prevented this woman from misgendering me without recourse. Given these lapses, the burden fell to me.

Queer and trans people--and anyone who experiences systemic oppression--should not be held solely responsible for creating the safe and affirming spaces they need in order to exist. Our existence is a fact, not a question to be answered or a problem to be solved. We deserve to be seen and held in that truth without having to prove or defend ourselves.

The Climate for Trans People

Having to educate others about the oppression you face is a heavy lift. It's a service I've opted to offer professionally, when I'm being adequately compensated for my labor, but too often it's one that I'm asked to provide for free. I've lost track of the number of yoga studio owners who have asked me for free education, as well as the number of studio owners who have failed to follow through after I've advised them.

I've lost track of the number of times a teacher has walked into the room, greeting the class with, "Hey ladies!," never stopping to question where their assumptions are coming from or who they're hurting. I've lost track of the number of promotional fliers I've seen for prenatal yoga classes that advertise only to "mamas," leaving out gestational parents of other genders. I've definitely lost track of the number of times someone has assumed my pronouns in yoga spaces, either not understanding or not caring how painful that is for me. It's especially hurtful in spaces where I come looking for respite and healing.

The current socio-political climate for trans people, in the United States and much of the world, is dismal. According to translegislation.com, in 2023 alone, 556 anti-trans bills have been introduced across 49 US states, impacting access to vital healthcare, employment, restrooms, sports, and more. Despite trans people having increased representation in media and elected office, law-makers across the country are trying to legislate trans bodies out of existence, and it's taking a major toll on our well-being.

With each new anti-trans bill that makes the news, queer and trans people in my circle describe feeling anything from unsettled to actively threatened, their nervous systems on high alert. They describe grief and collective trauma wrought by the loss of LGBTQIA+ loved ones to murder, suicide, and neglect. They describe exhaustion, burnout, and an immense need for rest. We should be able to find some kind of respite in yoga.

Why We Need Affinity Yoga Spaces

I consider myself incredibly lucky to be a yoga teacher and practitioner with access to tools for self-inquiry, relaxation, and healing. When I can't access a communal space for practice, I can guide myself. But most queer and trans people are not yoga teachers, and the search for yoga spaces that are affirming to LGBTQIA+ people can be taxing.

I know trans people who have given up on yoga altogether because they can't find a place to practice that allows them to be their whole selves, actively affirmed and not just tolerated. It's such a shame-and downright unacceptable-that there aren't more spaces within the yoga community doing the work of ahimsa and satya, non-harm and truthfulness, and creating equitable and accessible spaces for queer and trans people to be led in practice.

We need spaces to practice that are designed with our bodies, identities, and experiences in mind. We also need those spaces to recognize and care for our identity intersections, as we all hold multiple identities that deserve to be seen.

I'm a fat, disabled, queer, and non-binary person; I'm looking for spaces and teachers who can see and respect all of me, not just select parts. The communities I belong to and that I'm working to build and support require the same-spaces that can affirm not just queer identity, or trans identity, but also the nuances of race, caste, dis/ability, body size, neurodiversity, and more.

A Place For Us

In writing this piece, I polled my communities on Instagram, asking queer and trans yoga practitioners where they go to feel safe and affirmed while they practice. The number one answer was, "at home." This troubles me, not because there's anything wrong with home practice, but because I know the benefits of practicing in sangha, or sacred community. This social support could greatly benefit a lot of members of the LGBTQIA+ community. I want us to have the same opportunities for collective practice as our straight and cisgender peers.

My Instagram inquiry (along with some independent research) also yielded some bright spots-a handful of spaces that are actively holding affirming and equitable space for queer and trans folks to practice yoga. Some are in-person studios; some are completely online programs. Some are spaces where all are welcome; others offer yoga that holds space for specific LGBTQIA+ affinity groups. But all have been recommended by a queer and/or trans person who practices or teaches in those spaces.

While I can't vouch for each of them personally--and this isn’t an exhaustive list--the following spaces give me hope that guided, communal practice is within reach for queer and trans communities. I offer these spaces my utmost thanks.

In-Person Spaces

Bhakti Yoga Movement Center

Located in Portland, the Bhakti Yoga Movement Center's expressed aim is to offer practices for personal and collective liberation. The studio is BIPOC, South Asian, and queer owned, and the weekly schedule includes classes with many trans, non-binary, and queer teachers. While LGBTQIA+ practitioners are invited to every class, they also offer affinity-based classes exclusively for queer and trans people. @thebhaktiyogamovementcenter

Tru Yoga

Imani Olear (she/her), co-owner of Tru Yoga, believes that wellness is a civil right. This Black-owned studio in Rochester also has a number of queer and trans teachers in their lineup. Additionally, they operate a scholarship program, Yoga 4 A Good Hood, that specifically serves BIPOC and QTPOC, granting recipients unlimited class access and/or a financially-accessible option for yoga teacher training. @truyogarochester

Courageous Yoga

Operating from the understanding that liberation can only be collective, this trans-owned and operated studio in Denver offers sliding-scale, donation-based classes to people in the local community. Their monthly queer- and trans-only affinity space promises to meet participants where they are, along with the guarantee that it will be "very gay and fun." @courageousyoga

Three Queens Yoga

Three Queens Yoga in Philadelphia, PA, is on a mission to democratize and decolonize yoga. Several queer and non-binary teachers grace their schedule, and the about page on their website includes an explicit invitation for Black, Brown, and Queer folks, stating, "Welcome. We are you." They also make their values and community agreements clear online, setting the stage for an affirming and aligned practice. @threequeensyoga

Heart Fire Yoga

Heart Fire Yoga is queer-owned studio on the west side of Buffalo. Taking a locally-oriented approach, they aim to serve the surrounding community by offering inclusive yoga classes, workshops, and community gatherings. They also offer a weekly, queer-led community class exclusively for queer and trans practitioners. @heartfireyoga

Online Spaces

Alchemystic Studio

This queer, Desi-owned and -founded online studio doesn't necessarily have the extensive class schedule that you'd find at a brick-and-mortar studio, but what it does offer knocks inclusion out of the park. Founder Meesha Sharma (they/she) emphasizes that activism as an essential part of the complete yoga practice. The small teaching lineup is majority queer and trans and 100 percent BIPOC.

Yoga with Avery

Avery Kalapa (they/them) refers to themselves as a "Queer & Trans affirming Iyengar teacher rooted in collective liberation." In addition to weekly classes, their online platform regularly features offerings that are specifically designed for fellow queer and trans practitioners. If you can't make their livestream classes, they also have a library of on-demand classes, all available via an equity-based pricing model. @yoga_with_avery/

Tejal Yoga Online

Founded by yoga teacher, writer, podcaster, and community organizer Tejal Patel (they/she), Tejal Yoga Online is a welcoming, social-justice-oriented place of practice for anyone who cares about the deep roots and work of yoga. The teaching team showcases the diversity of South Asian teacher/practitioners, bringing in a variety of voices and lived experiences. Their stated aim is to offer "curious, open and questioning spaces that utilize yoga to raise the power and increase belonging of all individuals and communities." And while asana is on the menu, their holistic schedule also weaves in pranayama (breath work) and meditation. @tejalyoga/

Accessible Yoga Studio

Operated by the queer-founded and -directed non-profit Accessible Yoga Association, the Accessible Yoga Studio is a relatively new space for communal practice. The association takes a broad view of accessibility, and they include affirming space for queer, trans, and gender-expansive people under that definition. Practitioners can join them for weekly classes and monthly workshops that emphasize creativity, social justice, and equity for all. @accessibleyoga/

Ganesh Space

This collaborative non-profit with multiple queer and trans founding teachers, is distinct from everything else on this list. While you won't find a traditional class schedule on their website, you will find a wealth of philosophically-aligned, mindfulness-based services and offerings that support the wellness of oppressed communities. In particular, their eight-week virtual Mindful Changemakers program is designed to help participants use mindfulness tools for personal healing and collective liberation. @ganeshspace

About Our Contributor

M. Camellia, RYT-500, is a fat, queer, non-binary yoga teacher and accessibility advocate in the Washington, DC metro area. Their calling is to create inclusive spaces for self-inquiry and the inward journey by integrating spiritual teachings and accessible, trauma-informed movement practices with the spirit of social justice. M believes that the goal of yoga, as of life, is collective liberation, and challenges yoga practitioners to dismantle the oppressive systems and beliefs, within themselves and society at large, that hold us all back.

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