“No teacher in the world has a right to demand authority over others. The goal of yoga is kaivalya, independency and not wrong devotion” ~ R. Sriram (1)

In this blog, I’m going to focus on the topic of consent as part of the power imbalance we face as yoga students and teachers. Not only are we, as my first blog pointed out, already at a power disadvantage as students when we walk into any learning environment, but in an environment where we can experience hands-on touch from our teachers, it is absolutely key that we both, teachers and students alike, understand what this means and how to work with it. So here goes…

This is part 2 of a blog series focusing on historic and current issues affecting yoga teachers and students. Read Why can’t I say no? The teacher-student power imbalance, the first part of this series. Next up: how teacher training and CPD needs to change - what we can do?

What is informed consent?

First, it’s key to think about why informed consent might be important in yoga. Well, yoga teaching with touch (meaning assists of any kind) can be perceived by some as bodywork (2) (any therapeutic technique that involves working with the physical body). For many, whatever we define it as, this is an intimate encounter requiring trust. For teachers of all kinds, this interplay between physicality and bodily autonomy is where informed consent needs to be practiced (3).

Informed consent is defined as an individual agreeing to something with full knowledge of the expected benefits and risks. Sounds sensible, but it’s so often not something we give much thought to in our interactions as teachers and students.

Having informed consent from their students not only gives a teacher a solid ethical footing for their behaviour, but enables students to adjust expectations around what they expect from their teacher and how they communicate. The NHS, one of the foremost proponents of informed consent, says: “For consent to be valid, it must be voluntary and informed, and the person consenting must have the capacity to make the decision.” (4)

Meaning:

Consent must happen fully of your own volition, with no one else pushing you to make the decision
You must understand all the benefits and risks before you agree to it (this is probably harder to achieve, because an assist might be a very gentle touch to the shoulder, or a turn of the hand, with minimal risk of injury)
Capacity is ‘the ability to use and understand information to make a decision, and communicate any decision made’, which is lacking if one’s mind is disturbed or impaired in any way (e.g. intoxication, severe learning disabilities) (5)

Here’s an example for you to think on. Yoga practitioner Jenny Barthel Combs says: “I love, love, love my current yoga teacher. As we’re warming up... she always puts us in child’s pose and tells us to cross our arms if we don’t want to be touched. That way she knows, but no one else does, who has consented to assists.” (6)

While this example works well for the voluntary/capacity aspect of consent, it doesn’t address issues around ability to withdraw consent in individual assists while they’re happening. However, it sounds like Jenny’s teacher is further along the consent pathway than many others.

Consent can be easily violated. Becci Curtis is prescient when she says: “Gut instinct, despite the rhetoric we often hear to the contrary, is quite as often misleading as it is trustworthy. Physical adjustments are routinely given before you’ve had time to consider assent or withdraw. Asking for permission as you step into someone’s personal space, have already begun placing your hands, is not really asking for permission at all.” (7)

This behaviour has been responsible for many yoga-related injuries. I have heard many anecdotal reports, such as the student who can no longer sit in padmasana due to a vicious foot crack from an Ashtanga teacher a decade ago, or the tearing of a student’s phrenic nerve during an overly aggressive Marichyasana C adjustment (the teacher shoved the student round instead of placing the hands and letting the student find their own natural end range of movement)!

While not usually injurious to practitioners, this focus on violation of consent in yoga also encompasses the unsettlingly common practice of touching without asking during savasana (by lifting the head, ‘releasing’ the shoulders, lifting the legs or adjusting the hands, or applying essential oils to a student’s skin), a topic we rarely think about in relation to consent.

However you think about it, this is an intensely vulnerable period of a student’s practice - students are usually lying down, eyes closed, arms and legs spread out alongside the body. An unscrupulous teacher could easily sexually abuse during this, and a well-meaning but ill-informed one could cause a panic attack!

As soon as we enter a student’s space during savasana, we shatter the relaxation of the pose, activating the sympathetic nervous system’s ‘fight or flight response’, however heavily or lightly, and break an unspoken trust around personal space.

For instance, I took a class where I had a great time, and then during savasana, I suddenly felt a presence above me, the smell of essential oils, and then the teacher, without speaking or asking or even considering if I might have had any allergies, placed her hands on my face and started rubbing a lavender essential oil into my skin. I lay there and did nothing, because ala power imbalance, I didn’t feel like I could say anything, but grew more and more furious. This was a couple of years ago, but I’m still thinking about it!

To touch at all is a privilege

“There is no invalid reason for not wanting to be touched,” clarifies yoga teacher and researcher Theo Wildcroft, making the case for trauma-informed yoga. “You cannot know the history of the people coming to you.” (8)

So why touch at all? Should we just stop completely? Well, that’s a complex question in itself. Naturally, no one agrees. Touching can help with proprioception, alignment, and breathwork. But it’s clearly important to understand that this is a privilege, not a given, when it comes to other people.

Teacher Sarah Ezrin believes touch has a place for kinaesthetic reasons. She says: “It is precisely because adjustments are such powerful teaching tools that they should not be taken lightly. Instead of dismissing all adjustments as scary or dangerous, let us instead adjust our adjustments.” (9) For Ezrin, the key is communication first, teaching students to use their voice and take control of their experience.

Not everyone agrees. Tim Feldmann is the director of Miami Life Centre. He is an ‘authorised’, ‘traditional’ ashtanga teacher. He says hands-on assists provide “unparalleled kinaesthetic feedback... an internal map to identify and recreate the physical mechanics” (10). For him, establishment of trust includes gentle hands-on assists starting on day one, when he might bring someone’s hands together or adjust their elbow. This is reminiscent of Curtis’ point about how asking for permission after you’ve already done something isn’t really permission at all.

Feldmann says his teachers keep physical adjustments “simple, clear and light... their hands in unquestionable non-sexual zones... so the practitioner can learn deep-seated body mechanics without any misunderstanding of intention or boundary” (11).

While I agree that hands-on assists can have a wonderful kinaesthetic benefit, I have a number of problems with Feldmann’s approach:

What is an ‘unquestionable non-sexual zone’? Complex assists can come close to erogenous areas, and different body types may affect the likelihood of touching one (e.g. larger breasts in a backbend)
While my relationship with my main teacher is different to any other, I wouldn’t say it’s always possible to non-verbally understand another individual’s intention; boundaries are a two-way street
Feldmann also contradicts his earlier statement by later saying “permission must be granted slowly... social conventions and personal boundaries... should always be respected.” (12) Is informed consent really a social convention?
Why bother telling students it’s their practice and body if ‘teacher knows best’?

The importance of language in consent

In a Guardian article, Elizabeth Stokoe, professor of social interaction at Loughborough University, says we are “pushed and pulled around by language far more than we realise.” (13) Stokoe came to this conclusion after analysing thousands of hours of recorded conversations. She says that “certain words or phrases have the power to change the course of a conversation” in good or bad ways; examples include ‘willing’ (as in ‘would you be willing?’, where the onus is on the recipient) or ‘just’ (‘just do this’, which has a negative connotation).

Language is such a sensitive tool; consider the difference between language that invites, rather than being directive. Try ‘if it’s available to you, notice how your hand feels against your calf’ instead of ‘take the hand to the calf’. This acknowledges unspoken potential issues around trauma and chips away at the power imbalance, giving the student agency, rather than creating a “potentially dangerous dynamic” (14) (15) of blind submission to command.

Body positive yoga teacher Amber Karnes says it all happens before class begins: “As asana teachers, our words are among our most powerful tools. I consider it crucial to spend time setting up expectations, discussing safety, and creating an environment of personal agency.” (16)

An excellent example of the impact poor language choices can have on experience comes from new yogi Anna, who took an ashtanga class. She explains: “The class assistant... knelt beside me and said ‘you’re okay with hands-on assists, right?’ I smiled and nodded because I’m new to yoga and I wanted to fit in. But when he asked my friend, she said ‘no, I don’t know you, and I don’t like being touched by people I don’t know’. It was a bit awkward! But she was 100% right to be brave and speak out. And I decided I was going to say no next time, even if it was awkward. Because I don’t really like strangers touching me.” (17)

By inadvertently using a leading question, Anna felt compelled to say ‘yes’ to being touched, although she didn’t want to be. Another example is Jivamukti’s custom of calling individuals ‘holy beings’ (18). This language puts pressure on both students and teachers to live up to an unattainable ideal, to behave perfectly without complaining.

So ala Amber, how should we be dealing with this? Harriet McAtee, CEO of Yoga Quota, which seeks to make yoga accessible to all, says: “If during the class I feel like I want to offer a deeper adjustment or touch a sensitive area like pelvis/waist, I’ll tell the student what I’m planning to do, and reaffirm their consent. If I offer adjustment in savasana (forehead massage or shoulder press), I always seek consent again, and make sure I say if I’m using an essential oil on my hands and what scent it is.” (19)

I personally choose to combat the lack of knowledge of the teacher’s ‘underlying assumptions’ by speaking clearly to the class about what expectations they may have from the offset and throughout; while I agree with Farhi that you can’t ever 100% trust, I do think that being very clear about who you are as a teacher gives a good indication of how you will interact with students during the class, and can help create a supportive atmosphere and decrease the power imbalance.

McAtee adds: “It’s damaging and restricting to think that there’s only one way to attain consent. It needs to be a skill that’s developed as a teacher, practiced, refined and honed, so that you’re able to adapt to the situation and student at hand.” (20)

As an additional point, teacher Claire Barnes says of those with Aspergers or autism: “They might struggle to relate to overly abstract use of language, and will be basing most of their understanding of your cues on the words you use rather than your tone of voice or facial expression.” (21)

This also goes for non-native speakers, those with hearing loss, and most people in a pose during class, so it’s worth considering.

Visual aids to consent

Finding ways to implement informed consent in the first place is a starting point, and a challenge. So far, consent tokens are what I have found particularly effective, as they are a tool of the student, not the teacher. They’re a simple printed piece of paper or material which says ‘yes please’ or ‘no thanks’ on each side to indicate where a hands-on assist would be welcome, or if the student would prefer not to be touched (22).

Students usually begin with them turned down, and can flip them to say they would like a hands-on assist for a certain pose, or down if they don’t. They can be engraved, which is a support for visually impaired students, and are an easy way for non-native speakers to communicate.

They allow students to protect personal space, withdraw consent non-verbally and with minimal disruption in a class environment, and ensure the teacher remains accountable. You can have consent tokens in place before students come into the room, or hand them out as they come in. This can form part of the set-up, so their use becomes the norm rather than an optional extra.

Wildcroft says: “In reality, mostly my students will use... consent cards as a way to tease me by flipping them over when I need a partner to demonstrate with. I’m happy with that. Even in that playfulness, there is a subtext that says: in our joking, we test a newly strengthened boundary, and that is healthy for everyone.

“This is yet another way for me to signal that I will continue to do my best to make each session safe for every person that comes into the space. In that, the issue of consent to touch becomes so much more than a legal duty – it becomes a sacred practice that I must honour when stepping into the seat of the teacher.” (23)

Times are changing: where once only Nina Jackson’s Yoga Flip Chips were commercially available (2012-present), now multiple suppliers exist, such as Molly Kitchen’s Yoga Consent Cards (24) or Eunice Laurel’s Movement for Healing’s Yoga Assist Tokens (25), while many others are making their own.

There is, of course, a case for and against. On the for side, yoga teacher and survivor Tiffany Shaddock explains: “Many sexual trauma survivors feel obligated to consent - we don’t actually feel as though we have rights to our own bodies. This is where things like ‘flip-chips’ are especially supportive - we don’t have to SAY anything.” (26)

An (anonymous) survivor points out: “I went back to the yoga studio where I started, the yoga teacher and I were comfortable with each other and she began to correct me with touch. I didn’t mind sometimes because I had gotten to know her, but on other days, it was a real trigger.” (27)

On the against side, consent tokens mean the teacher has to be willing to use them (not all are) and also to understand informed consent well enough to use them appropriately (not all do); see Anna’s experience with the classroom assistant, who ignored the consent token laid by her mat.

Donna Farhi makes a valid criticism: “I don’t think students can possibly know what they are saying yes to and what they are saying no to with an unknown teacher... a student can turn up the ‘yes’ side, but without knowing the teacher’s underlying assumptions, they may be consenting to being moved beyond a safe threshold.” (28) How safe are any of us, really?

This wariness is backed up by the fact that ashtanga-offshoot and vegan-anarchy focused Jivamukti has in recent times attempted to position itself as a front-runner when it comes to using consent tokens, but as mentioned above, it’s also settled a serious sexual harassment case out of court. Its own 2007 teacher training manual says of adjusting students, “your hands should almost never leave them,” and says a student should “become an extension of your teacher... Do what they say.” (29)

The manual, created by founders Gannon and Kirkpatrick, was contributed to by many, including the controversial Michael Roach, himself accused of sexual misconduct from his own devotees over the years (30).

On consent tokens, I myself agree with Wildcroft - in my personal experience, I have found that students are appreciative of them, and have verbally fed back to me about this after class. In my own history of taking larger group classes with consent-driven teachers such as Laurel and Catherine Annis, as Shaddock mentions, I have welcomed the opportunity to utilise them for a silent ‘no thanks’.

But, depending on the strength of the existing relationship between teacher and student, they may not always be necessary. I would suggest that initially their use (or careful use of language around consent) is key, showing the teacher’s intention from the start. In led classes, where you often get drop-ins and short-term students, they are very important, but as time goes by, and trust grows, perhaps they become less necessary in the case of individuals, where over years teacher and student really get to understand each other well on a more personal level. This also goes for 1:1s - when the teacher clearly communicates before and throughout the bodily autonomy of the student.

I don’t say this lightly; I feel that in led classes, they are super useful, but I myself, while using them as a teacher, do not use them in interactions with my own ashtanga teacher (the only teacher I will take physical assists from). I have known her since 2013, and our relationship has built over years of on-and-off working together and mentoring, created through classroom interactions, in-person and electronic discussions, honest, constructive feedback and a solid understanding of my body, mentality and injuries.

I know she knows my body well. I know she will never place her hands somewhere inappropriate. I know she will learn from her mistakes if and when she makes them. I’m not saying she’s perfect, but I’ve never seen her force an injurious adjustment or take a student beyond their natural range of movement. There’s no real substitute for that breadth and depth of communication. In the end, it all comes down to trust.

Devotional yoga and consent: let’s make a start

For the sake of safety for practitioners and teachers, we must move towards a consent-driven model across all yoga styles; we must do better at training teachers to understand this from the offset. This is particularly important going forward for guru-founded styles like ashtanga, as well as devotional styles like Jivamukti and Bikram with charismatic leaders who’ve already set the rules for participation, where it can be more challenging to step up and challenge the status quo. In Bikram teacher training, trainees are expected to learn a set script and sequence, while Jivamukti demands “total surrender”(31) (32).

Michelle Goldberg of Slate discovered: “Aspiring teachers at Jivamukti... [kiss] the feet of founders David Life and Sharon Gannon. ‘They walk in the room and you learn to get on your hands and knees. Everyone’s doing it, 100 people around you, from the very first day.’” (33)

Ashtanga, while not exactly a devotional style, is still guru-driven thanks to the presence of founder Pattabhi Jois’ grandson Sharath. He struggles to acknowledge historic abuses (despite his recent social media output, which in itself is problematic) and maintains a list of ‘authorised’ teachers who are ‘certified’ to teach ashtanga: it’s hard to get on, and you can be removed for nebulous reasons. Realistically, anyone can teach it if they want. As a foundation of the styles mentioned above, Ashtanga commonly teaches set sequences where students were historically only allowed to learn new poses once they had ‘mastered’ the previous one, uses no props (I have heard an ashtanga teacher say she doesn’t know how to help people in larger bodies, because ‘tradition’), and has hands-on assists as part of the furniture.

But change rarely comes from the top in these situations - it often needs to start with a groundswell of support from lower down. The tide is shifting. Yin and ashtanga teacher Norman Blair says: “It is the teacher’s responsibility to discourage the striving that is too strong. To encourage dialogue. To emphasise that it is good to say ‘no’ to adjustments, to say ‘stop’, to say ‘not today’, to say ‘that is too much’. It is the student’s responsibility to stand as best as they can in their power.” (34)

Popular ashtanga teachers like Gregor Maehle have spoken out against historic abuses, while Scott Johnson, Greg Nardi and others recently formed Amayu Yoga, described as a “cooperative of highly skilled, compassionate Ashtanga yoga teachers and practitioners, driven by consent and empowerment” (35). It remains to be seen what this means for the community, as their plans are not yet clear (36) and consent tokens are not yet used in Johnson’s studio Stillpoint, but it’s a start.

Footnotes

1 (Yoga Dork, 2012, Update: Sad Details of Kausthub Desikachar’s Psychopathic Abuse of Power,Sexual Misconduct and the Preserving of His Family’s Legacy)

2 (National Certification Board for Therapeutic Massage & Bodywork, 2017, Standards of Practice)

3 (Research Support, n.d., Informed consent)

4 (NHS, 2016, Overview: consent to treatment)

5 (NHS, 2016, Overview: Assessing capacity)

6 (Barthel Combs, 2019, Interview: Jenny Barthel-Combs, yoga practitioner)

7 (Curtis, 2018, Practising consent: protecting personal space and encouraging autonomy in the yoga classroom)

8 (Wildcroft, 2016, Trauma Sensitive)

9 (Ezrin, 2018, Teachers, It’s Time to Adjust Our Hands-On Adjustments)

10 (Feldmann, 2018, Tim Feldmann on the value and pitfalls of yoga adjustment)

11 (Feldmann, 2018, Tim Feldmann on the value and pitfalls of yoga adjustment)