Yoga in the West: Cultural Appropriation to Social Activism 

Written By Hannah Raymond

Over the years I've spent teaching yoga, when I told people what I did for a living the response I would get, nine times out of ten, was: “I can’t touch my toes” — this baffled me a little the first few times it happened, then as the pattern continued to repeat itself, hearing those words again and again began to frustrate me on many levels, enough for to change my instagram bio to “I don’t care if you can touch your toes”. 

The problem with this sentiment is that it reduces thousands of years of ancient wisdom and a living embodied practice down to a western metric for hyper-mobility. What should these two things have in common, (yoga and touching your toes) and how did we come to associate yoga with displays of extreme flexibility? The answer lies in a deeper conversation about the appropriation of yoga by the west, a moral question of what is (un)acceptable and what causes harm. 

In 2020, as discourses around race and social inequalities circulated on social media in the revival of the Black Lives Matter movement, a conversation emerged among the yoga community around the marginalisation of people of colour in yoga spaces, calling out white supremacy within the industry. A key component of this discourse was the discussion surrounding cultural appropriation in yoga.

In academic literature, cultural appropriation has been defined as “the deliberate use of a cultural practice or symbol from others and adopting it as one’s own, where this use is contested, and where one knows that the practice or symbol is central to the culture of others.” (Lenard & Balint 2020, 342), or as “the use of elements of one culture by members of another culture, in ways that are perceived as unacknowledged or inappropriate” (Cruz, Seo & Scaraboto 2024, 963). 

Many of the assertions regarding cultural appropriation were coming from within the source culture of yoga, suggesting that the practice of yoga in the west was indeed contested. On Instagram, many South Asian yoga teachers (@susanabarkataki @yogaprasad_institute @yogawalla @theyogadissident - to name a few)  began to speak up on this topic, (rightly) criticising:

  • inappropriate use or poor pronunciation of Sanskrit language (abuse of the word namaste especially), 

  • symbolism used disrespectfully, in tattoos or in branding, 

  • the marketing of yoga in the west as fitness rather than a spiritual practice,

  • the sexualisation of yoga on social media, 

  • goat yoga, puppy yoga, wine yoga and just about every imaginable variant of yoga where the selling point is not really the yoga.

While there’s a varying degree of harm caused by each of these concerns, the common thread among these complaints is the separation of yoga from its context (the history, philosophy and spirituality of the practice), repackaging, rebranding, or whitewashing yoga in order to make a marketable product suitable for a western market. The standard western associations of yoga with flexibility and as a practice for white, able bodied thin women is a clear case of cultural appropriation according to the definitions above, as yoga has been co-opted, watered-down, and often turned into something inappropriate and completely removed from its original meaning, without acknowledgement of the source culture it comes from. This leads me to ask: how can yoga be practiced in the west without culturally appropriating?

Susana Barkatakti, one of the most prominent voices on cultural appropriation shared a Huffington Post article in 2016 entitled ‘Is My Yoga Cultural Appropriation? What to Do About It’, in which she explains that while simply practicing yoga is not cultural appropriation, “it is really important to honor and appreciate where a practice comes from, or we risk appropriating it” (Bharkatakti 2016). She explains that that means practicing more than just asana, (the physical aspect of yoga), and embracing the other limbs of yoga: yama* and niyama (the ethics and values of yoga), as well as pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, dhyana and samadhi (breath control, sense withdrawal, concentration, meditation and unification**). 

*The first three Yamas are: ahimsa (non-violence), satya (truthfulness) and asteya (non-stealing). I think we could do well to remember these principles when considering our actions with regards to what constitutes appropriation.

**these translations are not absolute, and of course a deeper reading and practice is required to fully understand these concepts.

Embracing these eight limbs is a start, but there’s more we can do; we must also acknowledge the culture from which yoga originates. So where does yoga come from? A simple answer might be that yoga is Indian, however the story is much more complex than that. 

Diverse Origins of Yoga, Cultural Hybridisation 

Yoga’s roots can be traced back in time prior to the creation of state boundaries, originating thousands of years ago in the Indus Valley located in northwest India and Pakistan, with the Vedic tradition, predating all the major world religions (White 2012). Yoga was never a fixed entity, rather it “co-existed and was influenced by many traditions” as it evolved over time, including Hinduism, Islam, Jainism, and Buddhism (Barkataki 2016). In the 1950s when “Indian gurus who brought the gospel of yoga to western shores”, the practice began to merge with elements of British athleticism and gymnastics, likely explaining the associations of yoga with toe-touching and hyper-mobility (White 2012, 2). “Yoga has always been a living, evolving, changing tradition”, and with such diverse cultural influences, it’s difficult to find just one authoritative perspective on the topic (Barkataki 2016). 

The claim that yoga is a cultural artefact belonging to one national identity, with one conception of the ‘true’ meaning of the practice, ignores the diverse historical origins that span across South Asia, giving rise to a myriad of ways to practice yoga. As Prasad Rangnekar, yoga educator and teacher trainer, explains in an Instagram post: 

“There are multiple Yogas in Hinduism, each with its own practices & philosophies. Then, there is an extensive philosophical school in Buddhism called “Yogachara”. Many Jain masters have given variety of Yogic practices.There are some incredible Buddhist & Jain Yoga scriptures. Sikkhism, the youngest religio-spiritual path of India too includes Yogic methods & ideas in its fold.” (Rangnekar 2022)

Evidently, there are so many ways to practice yoga; the eight-limbed path is just one path among many and certainly doesn’t constitute all there is to yoga. You don’t need to look much further than the comment sections of posts such as the one above to see that there’s a diversity of opinion within the Indian and South Asian community regarding what constitutes yoga, who it belongs to, and what constitutes respectful cultural exchange as opposed to cultural appropriation. For example some take no issue with the use of the word “Namaste” in classes given that the use of other Sanskrit words is encouraged, with the caveat that variations like ‘namaslay’ and ‘namaste bitches’ are never okay (Bhagwat 2020), while others provide 60 alternatives to the term (Barkataki 2019).

It seems important, considering these diverse cultural roots that we avoid assertions of cultural purity, or the idea that culture is in some way related to a fixed identity (such as nationality), which necessitates thinking in exclusionary terms of ‘us’ and ‘them’ — this is typical of a mono- or multi-cultural conceptualisation of culture (Rodrigo-Alsina & Medina-Bravo 2016). If we are to completely embrace the concept of cultural appropriation to the point where we avoid engaging with any practices that come from another culture, we risk entrenching divisions between ethnic and cultural groups and we risk losing the inter-cultural benefits of hybridisation, exemplified by the development of yoga itself as a practice that evolved through the influence of many cultures. 

Western culture itself is not singular, and perhaps the homogenisation of the global north can explain why much of the west is experiencing a crisis of belonging that is resulting in social fracturing and polarisation (Cohen 2022), in that many European indigenous (e.g Pagan or Celtic) traditions and practices have been wiped out and replaced by Christianity as the dominant belief system. For those who don’t adhere to Christian ideals and are seeking some sense of cultural belonging, community and spiritual guidance, yoga may be partly what fills that gap. In this instance, I don’t mean the decontextualised asana-only version of yoga, but the practice of living yoga, that might even encourage individuals to reach across social divides and see the humanity in one another in times of intense separation.

Should those in the west be resigned to the belief system that was imposed upon them? Doesn’t it make sense that westerners might want to reject these ideals too? Shouldn’t we have freedom of choice over our belief systems, the freedom to choose a guiding philosophy just as some choose to convert to another religion? I think the answer to this is yes, and. Yes, and we need to have a conversation about underlying power structures and systems of oppression at play here. 

Underlying power dynamics 

Those who are unsympathetic to claims of cultural appropriation might point out that cultures outside of the west take on aspects of western culture and use them as their own, however this is resembles the argument of ‘reverse racism’ which ignores the element of power. Cultural appropriation is undeniably about power given that “the appropriator is often in a more powerful or privileged position, with respect to the person or group from whom a symbol or practice is appropriated” (Lenard & Balint 2020, 343; Anyangwe 2018). 

In this particular case, the colonial history of India is important (even though the cultural origins of yoga extend beyond India), given that “a large part of Indian identity [...] is the painful experience of colonialism. South Asians everywhere are still negatively affected by colonial rule and its legacy; white people continue to benefit from it” (Rana-Deshmukh and Talib, 2018 in Lenard & Balint 2020, 344). It seems morally questionable that the west, in particular the UK, with their colonial history in India, should be able to cherry-pick cultural elements from a country they have historically exploited and use them to fill a gap of their own making. 

However, as the authors of this paper point out, given that these unequal power dynamics are what make the case of appropriation morally questionable, “It is misleading to place all the moral blame for the wrong on the appropriator” as this allows us to “avoid culpability for sustaining the unjust circumstances that permit appropriation, […] to continue to take place.” (Lenard & Balint 2020, 344-5). In other words, the underlying issue here is the power dynamic itself, and it is this historical injustice (of which the ability to culturally appropriate is an indicator) that needs to be addressed and resolved.

Yoga practitioners in the west who are committed to avoiding appropriation, in addition embracing the fullness of yoga, should also work to actively challenge this power dynamic where possible (though it is within politics and international relations where more substantial change can be made) , in using their privilege to advocate for the interests of those from yoga’s source cultures in such a way that contributes to meaningful cultural exchange. One of the ways this can be done is through a re-distribution of resources; (1) investing in South Asian yoga teachers/experiences/training or visiting the birthplace of yoga in person to gain a deeper understanding of the cultural origins while also supporting local economies, and (2) divesting money from corporations responsible for appropriating, which leads me to my next point. 

Yoga Under Capitalism 

It’s one thing to practice yoga, another thing to teach it, and another thing entirely to build a multinational corporation that profits off of yoga. Lenard & Balint argue that making profit from something that has been taken from another culture “makes appropriation much more morally problematic. It is not just that something of relative value is being used, but that it is used to make new value that goes directly to the appropriator.” (2020, 345). 

Given that the yoga industry’s market share is valued at $115 billion, it’s concerning that most of this wealth is lining the pockets of western corporations (Expert Market Research 2023). Though there are initiatives in India to utilise the popularity of yoga in the west to draw in tourism (Incredible India, 2020), the responsibility of redistributing this wealth inequality shouldn’t rely on the effort of those from the source cultures, but primarily on those in the west who are profiting from yoga. 

Yoga teachers undoubtedly hold more responsibility than their students to ensure they are not appropriating, not only because they profit from it (though the extent of those profits is another question — I have written about this here), but also because they hold more power in terms of shaping public perceptions of yoga. The form of yoga they choose to share is what leads people to believe that yoga is about touching their toes, but they can also choose to disrupt this narrative by teaching a wider breadth of yoga practices, honouring the history and context by teaching Hindu mythology or Bhuddist philosophy where relevant, using Sanskrit words where possible, acknowledging the lineage of yoga and encouraging students to bring the benefits of their practice off the mat and into the rest of their lives (I’ll come back to this last point in a moment).

With that being said, a larger share of responsibility is placed on institutions with more power, i.e more profit. Studio owners and teacher trainings should be conscious of their hiring practices, and make an effort to employ teachers from the source cultures while avoiding tokenising. Importantly, it’s not just about the surface level of ‘appearances’, but the deeper practices going on; how staff are treated, the values and integrity behind the business. These are just a few ways “An appropriator could meaningfully return some of their profit to those who were not able to profit themselves from their cultural symbols and practices.” (Lenard & Balint 2020, 346). 

Bigger corporations like Lululemon and Alo Yoga have also been questioned in this regard. They make their profits from an image of yoga-as-fitness; and through their ambassador programs, they contribute to the sexualisation of yoga; selecting young, attractive, able bodied, mostly white ‘influencers’ and teachers to promote their extortionately priced products to their respective followings. In recent years, many teachers and influencers have woken up to a number of ethical concerns; these companies have been exploiting the global south by out-sourcing cheap labour, without concern for the social or environmental impacts of their endeavours (Rauturier 2022), and centring whiteness as the image of the brand (Butler-Young 2023).  This is why many have chosen to end their partnerships with these brands that do not align with their (yogic) values (Vitarelli, 2013). I understand why teachers - also trapped by the demands of capitalism and struggling to make ends meet - might choose to get involved with these companies, but when doing so conflicts with the very same values they hope to share through yoga, it becomes a question of practicing what you preach.

Yoga as Activism 

What I’m observing throughout this is all the ills of western culture at play within instances of appropriation: the sexualisation of women’s bodies, mass consumerism, commercialisation, corporate greed, white supremacy. Of course these issues play out in western yoga; they touch every corner of western society. Returning to my previous point, perhaps the deeper problem is the underlying structures? Perhaps what we need is to question what upholds all of this, requiring a rethinking of our capitalist system and the challenging of white patriarchal ideals.

This leads me to my final point; the reason why I think all this matters so much, especially at this point in time. Yoga as a worldview, as an appreciated, integrated and embodied (i.e not appropriated) source of wisdom is what the west needs right now. 

On an individual level, yoga offers an antidote to some of the stresses of the western world: our nervous systems are often in a state of overwhelm due to the information overload induced by the current media environment. Yogic breath techniques and meditation practices can offer a means of nervous system regulation to help mediate this effect and maintain our ability to engage with society and open our eyes to the world rather than numb ourselves from it. In addition, yoga philosophy emphasises the practice of on non-attachment and the renunciation of material desire — engaging meaningfully with these aspects of yoga by questioning our material attachments should reduce the practice of over-consumption that is both harming our planet and exploiting the people and resources of the global south.

Finally, yoga as a worldview, akin to other related eastern philosophical traditions like Daoism, stands to counter western hegemonic ideas of separation and duality (evident in western understandings of the prevalence of good over evil, mind over body, intellect over emotions, masculine over feminine, etc.) that have been at the heart of so much historic and ongoing conflict and oppression. By contrast, the underlying ontology of yoga is not about separation, but unity. The word yoga comes from the Sanskrit root ‘yuj’ which translates directly as ‘yoke’, commonly understood to mean ‘union’ (White, 2012).

With this in mind, many of the same South Asian yoga teachers who called out the cultural appropriation they were witnessing within the industry are now not only encouraging practitioners to continue practicing yoga, showing how they can do so without appropriating, but also suggesting that a more authentic expression of yoga involves engaging with activism and social justice work (Barkatakti 2021; Barkatakti 2022) including topics and perspectives from intersectional feminism to anti-racism work and LGBTQ+ pride, to calls to for the Liberation of Palestine and other oppressed groups (for examples of those engaging with this work see @shantiwithin, @theyogadissident @red_maat @susanabarkataki @tejalyoga).

Such activism may form one path in yoga, karma yoga, which, contrary to it’s colloquial misrepresentation (the phrase ‘karma’s a bitch’ might ring a bell, another example of cultural appropriation), speaks to the yoga of action. While I wouldn’t go so far as to say that social activism must be a part of a yoga practitioners path, I would say that consciously undoing the wrongs of cultural appropriation is essential for anyone seeking an earnest relationship with yoga. In a way, challenging cultural appropriation is in itself a form of activism and de-colonisation, and for some people who find themselves on the path of karma yoga, this might constitute the gateway to exploring other ways that power imbalances create harm in the world.

As I have discussed in more depth in previous articles, “Yoga, when integrated into fully into a person’s way of life, becomes an ethical compass, a guiding philosophy. What’s the point in all that self-inquiry, truth seeking and presence building through meditation and other practices if you choose to put blinders on to what’s going on in the world?” It seems a natural extension of the internal work of the yoga practice to look outside of ourselves and confront the injustices of the world. As @shantiwithin often comments, collective liberation is the goal.

Ironically, though yoga as a value system and embodied practice holds the potential to guide meaningful action and promote social justice, if yoga is appropriated in the name of this goal, it would be doing so while upholding the very same institutions of power it has the potential to challenge. It is important, then, that three things happen: 

  1. individuals from the source culture(s) must be centred in these conversations; their concerns and recommendations should be taken seriously, and given the variety of cultures connected to yoga, a diversity of voices from different perspectives should be heard;

  2. practitioners of yoga need to work to actively decolonise their yoga practice, embracing a fuller expression of the practice that extends beyond the physical, and choosing to invest their money wisely, in ways that support those from the source cultures of yoga;

  3. Institutions with more power should take on a greater responsibility in this regard, sharing a greater burden of the task of re-balancing unequal power dynamics. Studios and Corporations should avoid tokenising and take a deeper look at their business practices. 

Note from the author: 

I want to reiterate that I am not the authority on this topic, but I do think It’s part of our responsibility as white teachers, or anyone coming from outside the culture of yoga who benefits from it to do this due diligence; engage in these conversations about appropriation, hold ourselves accountable for past wrongs, and commit to showing up, listening and learning how to do better.

I’ll hold my hands up and say I’m guilty of appropriating too, for the first 5 years of the 10 I’ve been practicing, I had very limited knowledge of the philosophy or history of the practice, and I certainly contributed through my old instagram posts to the western image of yoga as something for white, able bodied, flexible young women. Unfortunately this is the case for many students of yoga that the only place they gain access to the rest of the practice is through a teacher training at the cost of thousands of pounds/dollars/euros/you name its/ its expensive!

Thankfully times have changed at there is a lot more accessible knowledge available online. I would encourage you to seek guidance, beginning by following some of the teachers I mentioned in this article as a starting point. I will always will be a student of yoga first and foremost, and I now make it a priority to live my yoga rather than making a living from it. That’s not to say it’s wrong to make a career out of yoga, but just to say that it is a privilege that comes with a responsibility.

References: 

Instagram accounts mentioned: 

@red_maat @susanabarkataki @yogaprasad_institute @yogawalla @theyogadissident  @madhurabhagwat06 @tejalyoga @shantiwithin @vandanashivamovie

All photos via Unsplash unless otherwise indicated.

Hannah Raymond
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