4 Thoughts for Your Yoga Teacher Who Thinks Appropriation Is Fun

Letter To My Yoga Teacher

I walked into your class today. As usual, I was the only Indian person. Which of course made me strive for super human, wonder woman, extra flexibility, so as to really represent for my people.

As I rolled out my purple mat, the space I would root in and grow from for the next hour, I heard you say, “Let’s begin, Namaste [pronouncing it with a heavy American accent]. My name is [word in Sanskrit] Katie. Breathe in. To those of you who want Sanskrit names at the end of class” – true story – “I want to let you know that I’m authorized to give you a Sanskrit name. See me after class; all I need is your current name and your birth date. Breathe out.”

Yoga lady, I’m just glad I watched Karate Kid last night on Hulu – because all through class, I just kept hearing Mr. Miyagi telling Daniel, “Wax on, wax off, breathe in, breathe out, and hold life, have a balance, everything be better.”

In response to your statement, I’ve made a number of lists. I’m Indian, and we love numbers. Of course now you probably love numbers better than I do, but screw you.

Number one: Why do you want a Sanskrit Hindi name so bad? Does it make you feel more flexible? Is your Sanskrit name truer to your inner Indian soul? Do you want it bad enough to put that shit on your license? Will you say your new ancient brown name when you’re calling for a job interview?

Number two: Guess what. If you want a Sanskrit name, you can go give one to yourself, yoga lady. It’s not a law degree or a black belt. Por ejemplo, Sean Combes made his name Puff Daddy, and then Puff Daddy made his name P. Diddy – and all on his own.

Number three: India is spiritual, but not in a 1-900-I-need-my-fortune-sense. More like in the incredible land, long history, strong beings, brilliant writing, unfathomable music sense. That is, we’re really just not that different from you. So sorry to disappoint. I know you were genuinely looking forward to hiding in our otherworldly, exotic culture, but you can’t hide – because I see you, yoga lady.

Lastly, number four: Being Desi means stretching all the time, not just in yoga class. Being Desi means stretching to be diplomatic when people you don’t know are saying movie and food names to you. “Oh, you’re Indian? Mmmm hmmmm, Karma Sutraaaaaa.” “Oh, you’re Indian, I love Tandoori chicken.” For reals? I hate casserole.

Being Desi means you stretch to make it to your next meal because we are always thinking about food, which is why we love buffets, which is why Air India forces you into a food coma on every fucking flight.

Which is why we have a biscuit in India that’s simply called Time Pass – not good to eat when you’re hungry, but just time passing. “Eat me when you’re bored.” Being Desi means stretching on Thanksgiving and Western holidays like, we’re going to have turkey, tikka masala, and cranberry pickle.

Yoga lady, maybe this is more annoying than enlightening to your sensibilities, but check this shit out: I’m going to be back in your class, and you better not say that dumb shit again.