Is It OK If I Touch You?

Questions around consent and touch in yoga classes boiled over this month into a high profile feature article and video documentary by the NY Times. More than just profiling the abuse scandals of Patabhi Jois, the author attends a “hands-on adjustment” workshop taught by a well-known teacher named Johnny Kest. In this workshop, the generational gap in how yoga teachers view what they do, and why, was on full display. Most people agree that the old ways of doing things are no longer acceptable, but what do we do with those lagging behind the curve who continue to perpetuate outmoded traumas of the past?

Recent scandals have roiled traditional yoga lineages and revealed a sordid history of abuse, gaslighting, and bystanding. Survivors of sexual assaults at the hands of gurus and senior teachers have spent years courageously bringing the manipulation and injustice to light that has been hidden for so long. But now that the obvious examples have been exposed and institutions are being forced to evolve or end, there is a wide range of common behaviors among yoga teachers that are also being called into question. Teachers that only a few years ago were thought to be “handsey” and relatively benign, would now be classified as abusive by many.

Ethical Imperatives and Sexually Responsible Behavior

In 2003, I was thirty years old, male, single, heterosexual, and had been making a living teaching yoga for five years. My physical ability and "know-how" in the technicalities of asana forms seemed to make people think I was qualified. I touched students indiscriminately and used my position as the teacher to try and impress those I found attractive. There was no malicious intent, quite the opposite. I genuinely wanted to help people. Truth is, I was just young, horny, immature and not aware of my actions as a man and a teacher.

I remember when it first dawned on me that I was being reckless and inappropriate. That not everyone is as comfortable being touched as I might be. One of my first steady long-term students, whom I saw once a week for over a year, had suffered sexual abuse as a child. I saw our practice together as an opportunity for her to receive genuine kindness from a man. I did a lot of what I thought of as "healing touch" during that time (with both male and female students.) Then she moved, and our practice was discontinued for about a year. By the time she moved back to the city and called me wanting to start up again, a lot of growth had taken place in both of us.

It had become clear to me that Yoga was more than asana technique or physical prowess. Practice was not about "poses" so much as the people who do them, and teach them. I had begun to recognize the importance of genuine interpersonal interaction between students and myself (crucial in fact). So our first practice after the long break began with my newest technique of candid but comfortable conversation about how we were doing. It's amazing how much people respond to open direct communication when they feel comfortable to do so, and it was not long before it was revealed that one of the reasons our practice had been discontinued, other than the move, was that some of my "healing touch" had made her uncomfortable.

I was appalled. I had no idea that this was the case and a deep lesson was learned. For a period of time after that I stopped touching students altogether. Over time, as I gained further clarity around both the practice I was teaching and my actions as a teacher, I reinstituted using touch as a teaching tool. But this time with an entirely different sensibility. I moved away from “adjusting” to “assisting.” And instituted a strict policy of always asking first. My understanding of practice had shifted to an entirely therapeutic orientation, and this was being reflected in the choices I was making as a teacher.

Paradigm Shifts and New Understandings

The way a teacher touches someone is generally rooted in their sensibilities. Are we trying to accomplish a particular alignment? Perhaps we are looking to gain more flexibility and strength by getting deeper into a position? Or maybe the teacher is just a predator who gets an unconscious satisfaction from violating others? Because there is an inherent power dynamic between teachers and students in yoga classes, and we now have documented proof of rampant abuse, establishing new protocols that create a culture of consent is what many of us are advocating for. Unfortunately, there is no consensus around the specifics of what ought to be allowed or not, and who is going to enforce the rules.

One way people have sought to address the issue is with the use of consent or permission cards. Students are given a card or stone to place at the front of their practice space that can communicate to a teacher whether or not they want to be touched. To many in the boomer generation this often seems unnecessary, and even silly. But to younger generations, and sensitive teachers who want to maintain integrity, making sure students are exercising self-agency around their own bodies is imperative. In much the same way that the #metoo movement has highlighted that it’s not OK for women to be treated as they were in the MadMen years, it’s not OK for yoga teachers to do whatever they want to someone just because they attend class.

Exactly what the industry should do to stop abuses is where things get confusing. The same touch can be experienced by different people in opposing ways. And there are different sorts of touch that a yoga teacher might employ from light tactile-aids to full body-to-body contact. So, we can say that yoga teachers should not be allowed to touch students and that is an easy solution. But we would also be taking something valuable away from a lot of people at the same time. Who is to decide what we all must sacrifice in the name of safety for all?

Cancel Culture and Paths to Redemption

In the short time since its publication, the NY times article has already had considerable impact. The corporation that contracted Johnny Kest as the head of its teacher training programs has now instituted consent cards in all of its classes, and the center that Kest started at in 1993 is closing down. Some might question whether consent cards are really a solution or just an avoidance but, regardless, the fact that the public pressure in the fallout was enough to make them take action is significant.

Charismatic teachers using their physical prowess to impress and assert authority over others is just the way it was when a lot of us gen-xers came to yoga. But y and z-geners are ready to cancel out these old-school attitudes altogether, and are calling for de-platforming and blacklisting of questionable teachers. Almost everyone agrees that sexual assaults are wrong but what kinds of touch classify as assault or abuse in yoga class depends on the beholder. What is no longer up for debate is that touch requires consent in order to be safe. What form that consent takes, and what ought to be done to hold those accountable for not getting consent, remains to be fleshed out.