White-washed Yoga and the Cult of Niceness
Recently, I started reading yet another essay on cultural appropriation in yoga. Halfway through, I had to stop. Not because it was badly written, or riddled with spelling mistakes, or even offensively dumb. I stopped because every other sentence practically begged the reader not to feel accused.
Apparently, we’re supposed to talk about cultural appropriation while making absolutely sure no one feels responsible for it. A kind of spiritual crime scene, where nobody in the room did it, and everyone just wants to move on with their five o’clock tea.
This trend — of urgently assuring that no one’s at fault — is precisely why nothing ever changes. Zero. Because if no one’s to blame, then who’s accountable? That’s right: no one. Fascinating, isn’t it?
We all know (except maybe those living under giant rocks) that we live in a system where some groups benefit at the direct expense of others. If I belong to the benefiting group — and in this context, I do mean white people in Western wellness spaces — then saying “we’re not here to blame anyone” is a masterclass in colonial gaslighting. It protects the status quo while pretending to question it.
Yes, I know — most people get defensive when their behavior is called out. But trying to coddle people into accountability has never, in my humble experience, actually worked. I’m not here for the Care Bear method of systemic change. I’m here for clarity and uncomfortable truths. Because let’s be crystal clear. If someone can’t handle reflecting on their own defensiveness and BS, if they collapse at the suggestion that they might be part of the problem, then they probably aren’t ready to do the work. And people who aren’t ready to do the work won’t change anything.
Nowhere does this allergy to accountability, paired with a desperate addiction to sweet, inoffensive language, thrive more than in white-washed yoga. In that sanitized, saccharine bubble where everything is “love and light,” judgment is taboo, no one’s ever wrong, it’s all about your feelings (as long as it’s white feelings), and — conveniently — no one is ever held responsible. It’s colonized spirituality. And I’m asking: who exactly benefits from this?
Guess what: it’s not the people whose cultures are being stripped, packaged, and commercialized for a white and western audience. This “we’re all one” fantasy, where everyone is equally guilty and thus equally innocent, is a spiritual bypass hiding behind the sugary concept of “unity” and completely lacking in nuance. It’s a denial of power structures, and frankly, total BS.
Growing up means taking responsibility. If I mess up, I say I messed up. I don’t write a 20-minute disclaimer about how I didn’t mean to. I own it. I learn. I try again. And truth be told, calling others out when they mess up is part of the deal — that’s what real and healthy communities require.
So I’ve had it with people who say they want change but spend more energy protecting white feelings than confronting facts. With the spiritual teachers, coaches, yoga instructors, and lightworkers who talk decolonization but are terrified of ever calling anything — or anyone — out.
If you can say “cultural appropriation” but immediately follow it with “this isn’t an accusation,” I have news for you: you're not challenging anything.
Some of us have moved beyond vague intentions. Words don’t fool us anymore.
If this resonated with you, moved you, or made you pause and reflect – consider this your cue. I’ve set up a virtual tip jar via Buy Me a Coffee. No monthly commitments, no strings, no memberships required.
Your sweet kindness helps keep the thoughts flowing, the energy exchange intact, and the glow of my inner goddess alive. It won’t fix capitalism, but it might buy me five minutes of joy (or at least a cortado).
Gracias. Thank you. Jërëjëf. Merci. Obrigada. Danke. Arigatō. Medaase. Grazie. Hvala. Tack. Asante. Shukran. Teşekkürler. Dziękuję.
