Beyond Postures: My Journey of Decolonising Yoga Teaching

Anyone who knows me understands that Yoga is a significant part of my life. My mother, a Yoga teacher embarked on her Yoga journey in her late 40s. Witnessing her transformative journey inspired me to enrol at one of the world's oldest Yoga schools, located in Mumbai. Upon completing 900 hours of teacher training, life took on a new dimension for me.

From that juncture, my thoughts, actions, and emotions were filtered through the lens of Yoga philosophy. These concepts formed a strong foundation that continues to shape my personal values, beliefs, and moral compass. For instance, the principle of Asteya (non-stealing of things, time, thoughts, words, or ideas) guides me to always be on time for meetings. It also encourages me not to overextend allocated time, as I recognise that my clients' & friends' time is a precious gift. Additionally, it reinforces the importance of attributing credit appropriately.

On migrating to Australia, I held the expectation that my training and teaching experience would be enough to continue my teaching journey. Alas, I was met with a surprising requirement: to teach here, I needed a minimum of a Certificate III or IV in fitness training.

"Surely, you've got to be kidding?" I thought. Nope. So for someone who didn't know what to do with any equipment at a gym, I persisted and obtained my certificate. To the benefit of my students, I abstained from instructing on gym equipment usage.

In Melbourne, I immersed myself in practicing at various studios adorned with high ceilings, beautiful artwork, white walls, and offerings like organic turmeric latte blends, and classes taught by a very specific demographic of teachers. I saw them teach Bakasana (crow pose), Astavakrasana (Eight Angle Pose)—I was left awestruck and amazed. I learned about 80% of philosophy and anatomy, and the rest in Asana, Pranayama and Kriyas. Surely, I had got Yoga wrong.

I found myself questioning if I had misunderstood Yoga. The realisation that I couldn't yet perform Bakasana or boast an Instagram page devoted to Yoga fueled a sense of internalised imposter syndrome. I wasn't remotely as flexible or strong or bendy enough to teach. Gradually, I started gaining confidence in teaching at newer, more intimate studios. I taught what I'd learned. I taught the way I knew Yoga.

To my delight, I had a dedicated group of Yoga students who appreciated the interweaving of Yoga philosophy into their on-mat practice. I embraced using Sanskrit words, providing translations, and initiated discussions about Yamas, Niyamas, Kriyas, and more at the beginning and end of class.

"I am good at this", I thought to myself.

My journey of decolonisation continues through Yoga and my work. I wish I could tell my younger self: "the idea of Yoga has been modelled to conform within a capitalistic framework, and you DO NOT need to try and assimilate or fit into this idea. Be confident in your teachings passed down from your mother, your teachers, and dearest Mrs D from Yoga school—that is true Yoga—the one residing in your heart that you carry like an eternal flame."

This letter by one of my previous students moves me to tears every time I read it, and reaffirms the impact of the teachings of Yoga and a constant reminder not to dilute my essence to conform into society's idea of how it 'should' look like.

It's South Asian Heritage Month , and this is my story to tell.

Ruhee (she/her) is an experienced Yoga teacher, having honed her craft for 11 years. She conducts private in-person classes in Melbourne for individuals and organisations. To learn more, feel free to reach out at [email protected] for inquiries.