I've been enjoying designing yoga classes around different themes and ideas--like yoga for snow sports or my new "Yoga Outside the Box" series I will be offering at Shanti Yoga Studio in March--and finally got around to writing about one of my favorite themes, the 2016 Bangor Pride Festival theme, “Bye Bye Binary.”

The "Bye Bye Binary" theme inspired me to design a special yoga class on the subject of binaries--that tendency in our culture to think of everything as either/or. I offered this class to a group of people fairly new to yoga, many who attended my three previous weeks of gentle yoga classes, which gave a solid foundation in the basics of yoga. As I have been thinking about yoga and feminism, I was inspired to share my approach here and to expand it to other classes that I teach.

The ideas I write about here were woven together with movement designed to reinforce the ideas. The ideas are complex, but they can be broken down in classes to be more accessible and, like yoga, to be a life-long learning process.
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In my work in American studies and Women’s and Gender studies, binaries are unpacked. Things we think about as being opposite are complementary. They are not polar opposites, they are two sides of the same coin. However, our culture tends to value one side of that binary, giving it power over its subordinate. Men are considered superior to women. White is seen as preferable to black. Straight is normal; gay is wrong. We are often uncomfortable with ambiguity.

Yoga, which roughly means union, is the perfect prism for breaking apart the binaries that can hold us back from feeling whole and connected. Yoga comes with its own inherent binary: mind/body, though we might add “spirit” to break up that binary. And in our culture, the mind is seen as having control over the body. This control is seen as an ideal and this narrow idea shapes how people are valued in our culture. For instance, people who are overweight are seen as having a lack of self conrtol. Our bodies dictate many of our opportunities. Our mind is influenced by the contradictions of our culture, and our mind impacts the health and well-being of our bodies.

How often does our mind allow us to love our own body, to be at peace with our body? Yoga gives us tools to find that peace, and part of this is about letting go of our preconceived notions of the limits and possibilities of our bodies. Yoga gives us perspective; it connects us to our breath and helps us find our mental and physical edges. It gives us the literal and figurative space to stretch and expand. Our mind and our body work together.

There are other binaries that yoga can help us break, clear, or heal: male/female, man/woman, masculine/feminine. Gender is not an either/or choice as much as our culture would have us understand it as one, though this is changing. And while the tradition of yoga is also based on this gender binary, and many classes are dominated by women, yoga is not gender specific.

When we breathe consciously, we are practicing yoga. In yoga we can be warriors—the survivor, the fighter that needs no gender. We fight for our cause and for the people who cannot fight for themselves. Men can be more in touch with their emotions and more open to the power of the feminine. Any body can participate in the movements that comprise yoga. There are options and variations that meet us where we are at that moment.

In terms of sexuality, binaries of gay/straight, or even the binary of bisexual, fixes sexuality rather than recognizing the fluidity of sexual affection, attraction, and action. Yoga can help us learn to focus and connect; it raises our awareness of our body. There are many poses and ideas in yoga that are focused on fostering healthy sexuality. The second chakra is thought to regulate the mind and body aspects of sexuality. And energy knows no gender.

Yoga helps us to take care of our minds and our bodies, to not give too much of ourselves and to practice self-care and self-love. We can see the self as a part of something bigger, but also better sense the permeable boundary between us the and the wide universe that surrounds us—the endless universe that we can never know. We do not have to choose between one binary; we can choose among the limitless possibilities.

And if this all sounds too good to be true or too scary to try, I would have thought so once. Yoga is many things and not everything I describe here will be found by everyone who practices yoga or with every yoga experience. In fact, most yoga classes will not unveil the power of yoga to break binaries. Like everything else, knowledge, practice, and an open mind are some of the necessary tools to chips away at the binaries that define and confine us.
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[Side note on yoga and gender: As I noted in a previous blog, I attended a Kundalini yoga class at a conference where a popular yoga personality gave us an option to choose one particular hand mudra (position) if we were a woman and another if we were a man. This position was supposed to be held with intense breathing for an extended period of time while periodically chanting along with the music. I changed from one to the other periodically wondering what I would do if I were questioning or genderqueer. Through my movements I felt like I was balancing the masculine and feminine that work together, and I wished I had the knowledge to challenge the instructor. As it was, I probably interrupted the energy flow of our collective ecstasy. But, such rebellion in the face of gendered yoga experiences is important for breaking binaries.]

To say I am a feminist yoga instructor feels redundant. However, it is important to make this distinction more clear given the vast array of approaches to feminism and the similarly vast array of approaches to practicing yoga. Both are contested, commercialized, conflicted.

Being a feminist yoga teacher means being more than a feminist and more than a yogi. There are many overlapping aspects of yoga philosophy and feminist theory and pedagogy, but a yoga teacher is not necessarily a feminist unless they embrace the complexity of social and cultural systems and help the individual navigate this reality using yoga’s tools.

For instance there are strains of yoga that believe in the pure, unadulterated power of positive thinking. If you visualize it, meditate on it, and get out of your own way, you can have it. They even go so far as to say that you can acquire riches through visualization and meditation.

Further, if you get enough people together to meditate, they can change the world simply through the vibrations of meditation. However, in a social and cultural system that is based upon oppression, visualization and meditation is not enough. Power and privilege shape our lives in ways that we, as individuals, cannot control. We have to work together to change these systems and no amount of meditation or vibration can make these changes.

Both of these ideas are simplistic and some yogis would accuse me of being too cynical to appreciate the nuances of spiritual power. However, I am a realist and an optimist. I know there is power in yoga. I have felt this power—or some of this power, at least. Yoga and meditation can be transformative, but if we wait around for some kind of magic to happen (especially on a global scale), we are simply being naïve.

Thus, the power of critical thinking that comes with feminism is an important aspect of feminist yoga. However, it’s not like this is an easy aspect to work in among the asanas (physical poses/practice) of a yoga class. I often sneak this critique into the music and into some of the things I say during class.
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As I think more about what a feminist yoga teacher is and what that teacher does that is similar and different from other approaches to yoga (one of my many sabbatical projects!), a few initial thoughts are floating around…. Some of these are overlapping and there is a lot more to unpack here…

A feminist yoga teacher empowers students, activating awareness and providing space for discovery. This might be awareness, empowerment, and discovery on an individual level, but it might also extend beyond the individual, into culture or community.

A feminist yoga instructor is aware of gender dynamics and is concerned with power dynamics. They understand the connections and contradictions of the individual and the structural. For instance, while yoga in the West is often dominated by women participants and instructors, it still suffers from the impacts of patriarchy. I have heard and read many accounts of sexual assault that have happened during yoga classes; for instance, a male instructor who would kiss women during savasana (final relaxation). The sacred space of the yoga studio is not always safe for women.

A feminist yoga instructor is informed by intersectional feminist theory as well as interdisciplinary yoga traditions. Simple, one-dimensional approaches to feminism, or to yoga, are incomplete and act to obscure the ideas and the practice.

A feminist yoga instructor has an awareness of the limitations and possibilities of the body and mind that is grounded in an understanding of anatomy and kinesiology as well as their own embodied experience. A feminist yoga instructor teaches from their body while recognizing the limitations and possibilities of the bodies in the room. Participants are encouraged to strive for challenge and ease depending upon a variety of factors.

A feminist yoga instructor makes interventions toward transformation—of individuals as well as institutions.

A feminist yoga instructor recognizes the diverse spiritual aspects that are experienced through yoga and honors this diversity.

A feminist yoga instructor understands trauma—its impacts on the mind/body and the tools that can help to heal.

A feminist yoga instructor values process and suspends judgement. They continue to learn and grow in their practice as well as their teaching.

A feminist yoga instructor understands consciousness as both critical/oppositional as well as transcendental.

A feminist yoga instructor challenges gender stereotypes and recognizes the natural balance of femininity and masculinity as well as the socially constructed foundations of these natural phenomena. For instance, when taking a Kundalini yoga class we were told to do a certain hand mudra (position) if we were female and a different one if we were male. I switched my hand mudra several times throughout the exercise and wondered if there was anyone in the room experiencing discomfort at the idea of choosing a hand mudra based upon sex/gender. I try to emphasize the feminine and masculine characteristic that we all have and the importance of balance.

A feminist yoga instructor encourages and models self-care, sets aside ego, and taps into community.
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Feminist Yoga
Happens in community
Utilizes an awareness of structure and personal navigation
Emphasizes process
Calls for patience
Develops empathy
Increases mental flexibility
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These ideas represent the early stages of further research, thinking, teaching, practicing. It might just be that feminist yoga is just yoga taught consciously and responsibly. Or, perhaps feminism has something to offer the development of yoga in the West and we are just starting to tease out the possibilities.

Last August I was contacted by a reporter from an Australian magazine writing about the rise of feminist fitness. First of all, how exciting is it to hear that feminism has been visible enough in fitness that it would inspire an article about the trend!? Of course, she is also from Australia, where this trend is a lot more visible. Many of the best sources on feminist fitness that I found while doing research for my book, Women and Fitness in American Culture, came from outside the U.S. But, a few weeks ago I was contacted by a writer from the Associated Press who covers fitness and she was working on a feminist fitness article as well. So, I guess rather than having this blog continue to sit in my inbox, I might as well put it out there! Below I include the Australian reporter's questions and my answers....
 
What role does feminism play in fitness?
Feminism can play several roles in fitness. A lot of times the role it plays is in thinking about women's strength. We might imagine that as women become physically stronger they will also become stronger in other spheres like politics. However, this is not exactly what I mean when I write about or think about feminist fitness. The direct correlation is not there. While women might feel more empowered through weight lifting and strength-building, just as many (if not more) women are afraid of getting too "bulky" and, thus, not being seen as feminine. Female athlete at the top of their sports even struggle with this fear. So the biggest role that feminism can play in fitness is to say that being healthy, happy, fit, strong, etc. can be achieved through any variety of fitness activities. Fitness isn't one thing, but it is feminist when it is about a whole body and whole person approach.
 
Has there been a shift away from the "bikini body" towards female empowerment in the fitness industry?
I'd like to say that there has been this shift, and perhaps if we think about it in terms of the fitness industry, then, yes, I'd say there is a shift from the "bikini body" to the strong, functional body--the kind of body that can run marathons or compete in Ninja Warrior-style competitions. But, at the same time, female empowerment is often sold as a part of a package of physical perfection. In terms of the images that promote fitness--in the industry and in pop culture and media more generally--I don't think we are there yet in terms of empowerment being more important than the "bikini body." We are still fed the correlation that strong (but not "big") is desirable and the bodies we see take a lot of time, effort, attention, and energy to maintain. When we see fitness as more of a way of life and less as a set of accomplishments, then we will be making this shift.
 
Why are we seeing a rise in feminist fitness bloggers and personal trainers?
There is a need for feminist fitness--in our fitness culture and in our personal lives. I think that women (and even men) can use the principles of feminism to take focus off of the superficial aspects of fitness and focus in on what is really meaningful and powerful. For instance, I've noticed a rise in blogs about being a mom and being a runner. Women are able to focus on the things that their bodies can do rather than the impossible standards that the media set. So we see a rise in bloggers who share their personal struggles and frustrations as well as their successes. We also see a rise in women of color and "fat" women claiming space and recognition in the world of fitness. Feminism makes spaces for marginalized voices and experiences.
 
And feminist approaches to personal training can really revolutionize this sphere of fitness. Personal training is much more about building a relationship and trust between client and trainer. A trainer who listens to her client, who understands the client's fitness goals, who looks for a variety of activities that are enjoyable to the client, who instills realistic expectations and works to dispel fitness myths is going to be more successful than a trainer who sets out a program of repetitions and then pushes the client through these exercises toward a goal of weight loss, for instance.
 
Why is fitness a feminist issue?
Fitness is a feminist issue for so many reasons. Fitness is just one of the many activities that is represented in the media in narrow, stereotypical kinds of ways. Feminism challenges such representations. Fitness is about taking care of ourselves, but also taking care of the people we love and the world that we live in. We have to practice the feminist idea of self-care in order to be able to do this. If we want to eat healthy, organic foods then we need to be working to ensure that these foods are available and affordable. This means we need to think about climate change and agribusiness. If we want comfortable, affordable clothing and shoes for our workouts, then we need to be sure that women in other parts of the world are not being exploited to produce those goods for the first world. If we want women's bodies and minds to be safe from rape, sexual assault, and other forms of patriarchal violence, then we need to work to change the standards and expectations of masculinity. Fitness is not just an isolated, individualistic pursuit bolstered by privilege; it is a responsibility to ourselves and to the world.
 
Would you like to see more feminism in fitness?
Absolutely! I would love to stop hearing women say that they are too fat, too skinny, too whatever. I'd love for men to be more comfortable and willing to take group fitness classes or to try yoga--to not be afraid of being seen as less than a man because they enjoy Zumba or yoga. I would love to see people embracing fitness because it makes them feel good and makes them able to enjoy other aspects of their lives more fully. I would love to see women stop shaming other women about their bodies and to see us all stop equating fitness with superficial qualities and outward appearance. I would love to see people use the word feminist when they talk about fitness. But even if they don't use the word, the principles are there and they are transforming fitness for many people, just as feminism has transformed the world we live in.

I have tried many names and many incarnations of my particular "brand" of fitness dance: Pleasure, Power, and Movement; Feminist Fitness; Just Dance; Organic Dance (the biggest failure); and, most recently, Mind/Body Fitness Dance.

During the fall semester I previewed Mind/Body Fitness Dance at UMA-Bangor. I had positive feedback to this fitness class, and I decided to offer it this spring as a two-part series. While I have struggled to keep consistent attendance at this kind of fitness/dance class at the YMCA, I think that teaching this class on campus allows me to more fully share all of the nuanced aspects of this fitness form.

Starting this Thursday I will be offering Mind/Body Fitness dance on campus, Thursdays from 5:15 to 6:15. I have created a pamphlet that explains a little more about this form of fitness and dance, but it is really something that has to be experienced and embodied.

People are often afraid to dance, afraid to move outside of culture’s strictly draw boundaries of body and space. This is especially true of women and girls. We are taught to take up as little space as possible and we fear judgment and doing things wrong. I know this because I used to feel this way too.

I found confidence in fitness classes that allowed me to follow directions--and to give those directions when I became an instructor. In both cases, movements were rigid, linear, contained. In group exercise classes we generally know what to expect and the rise of manufactured fitness classes (like Zumba, Les Mills, and MOSSA) make for consistent, predictable workouts. While not everyone enjoys classes, many find safety in proscribed movements.

Invitations to try Mind/Body Fitness Dance are met with: I can’t dance. I only dance when no one’s home. I have no rhythm. I can’t follow directions. I need to be told what to do. I am so out of shape. These are excuses I hear often.

I also hear the unspoken reasons. I am insecure about my body (too fat, too thin, too something wrong). I am uncomfortable trying new things. I’m scared. I have anxiety. (I have made all these excuses too.) But all of these discomforts are exactly what Mind/Body Fitness Dances offers to alleviate.

Movement helps us let go. Music gives us a landscape. Structure and freedom help us feel safe while we also have literal and figurative space to explore.

Mind/Body Fitness Dance has changed my approach to fitness and has helped me to find more confidence, wellness, balance, and joy in my life. Sharing this movement--my art--with those who are brave enough to try something different is scary and rewarding. I share Mind/Body Fitness Dance as a tool of self-care; it is my gift to my community.

Eastport 124, on a Thursday afternoon, is private and the environment is conducive to freedom of movement. Music fills, but does not overwhelm the space and the play of light and dark enhance the dance fitness experience.

I want to invite students, faculty, staff, and community members to try this form of mind/body fitness dance. When we step into the dance, we leave these roles and become movement. Lose yourself. Find Yourself. Move and Be Moved.

The first year I got involved with my university's colloquium theme was the year that "revolution" was chosen and I was asked to speak on the theme at our annual convocation event. It was exciting to explore this theme in my classes and to share an American studies take on revolution. The next year I found the food theme to be at least as fruitful in the classroom, and the excuse to focus on food meant that we could nourish our minds as well as our bodies. I was less excited by the bioethics theme that followed, but I found myself learning new things and expanding the tried and true topics that have made my classes engaging and challenging.

When our committee settled on "innovation," I wasn't really seeing how "innovation" was anything more than a tool to promote the idea of a linear path of progress that pushes forward in attempts to fulfill mainstream definitions of success, weaving--and sometimes challenging--myths along the way.

But, the theme of innovation nagged at the back of my brain. It got me thinking, and, ultimately this is the point of having an academic theme. Taking innovation out of these obvious contexts of science, technology, and business only makes room for further innovation. Somewhat obviously, innovation in the arts and humanities is coveted. We celebrate innovative filmmakers, innovative artists, innovative writers, innovative thinkers.

I never think about my work as being innovative; I think about it being flexible, dynamic, engaging, challenging, tireless. But seeking new ways of looking at old ideas is certainly innovative (as James Cook confirms for me in his framing of the theme at Convocation), and this is at the heart of my interdisciplinary teaching and scholarship. Interdisciplinary studies are studies in innovation, finding connections in spaces where strict boundaries are drawn, creating new methods and new forms of knowledge.

The innovation theme invites us to think about what we teach and how we teach it, and part of the point of such a theme is to approach it from a variety of angles. A quick search reveals ways of teaching innovation that coalesce with interdisciplinary approaches, like this Mind/Shift list of ways to teach innovation.

While there is a long list of innovative pedagogies, and maybe even a short list of innovative technologies, at play in my teaching, what is most immediately on my mind are my ongoing explorations of fitness in humanities and interdisciplinary contexts. In our AME/WGS 306: American Fitness class this fall, we will consider fitness in a variety of texts and contexts and through an interdisciplinary lens.

We expect to see fitness as a topic in the sciences. Bodies are measurable. Time, distance, expenditure are measurable. And in the social sciences--attitudes, behaviors, and demographics are measurable and comparable and surveys and interviews provide qualitative analyses. Interdisciplinary fields like women's studies considers strong women and women who break gender norms in sports and physical education as well as the ways in which gender is portrayed in magazines, for instance. These approaches produce important insights and a foundation for innovation.

Innovations in fitness are often met with the rigid resistance of minds and bodies trained in certain kinds of movement--linear, purposeful, exacting. People drawn to the linear, competitive aspects of running might be threatened by the choreography and hip movements of a Zumba class. People drawn to dance might resist the regimented movements of weight training or the aggressive nature of kickboxing.

Innovations in scholarship meet similar kinds of resistance. Interdisciplinary inquiry threatens definable boxes and known quantities. Certainly Luddites push back against innovations in technology, ethicists push back against innovations in science, activists push back against innovation in business. When innovation meets at the intersection of fitness and academia, push back is often stillness, a lack of engagement, a quiet anger, a refusal or inability to embrace change let alone the possibility of transformation.

I detail, analyze, and extrapolate many of these fitness innovations in my book, Women and Fitness in American Culture. I also continue to highlight the work of my colleagues in this field through resources on my culture and movement website and features on my blog. My students' blogs and projects this fall will help to make this class--and interdisciplinary inquiries in the realm of fitness--more dynamic and innovative. Those interested in such innovations can join our Google+ Community.

My initially limited view of innovation in business, science, and technology left me with an underdeveloped idea of what innovation means. Innovation challenges norms, disrupts comforts, and shapes expectations. Innovation is now a conscious hammer in my toolbox and I look forward to sharing this tool with my students this fall.

Whenever I finish a project, when what I've written/birthed/sweated out goes off to the publisher, I start to find more sources that would be "perfect." I lament not finding them before I was finished even though I could not have included another source. In fact, the last of my writing process for my last book--and most things I write--is cutting out the excess, polishing the product.
 
There was a lot to cut from Women and Fitness in American Culture. It went through many incarnations and there was so much "perfect" evidence. But that doesn't mean that there weren't sources that would have been helpful, insightful, even key to the crux of my argument. The fact that there are always more examples to add to the mix speaks to the flexibility of interdisciplinary studies as well as the subject at hand.
 
Red Nails, Black Skates: Gender, Cash, and Pleasure On and Off the Ice is a book I not only highly recommend, but also wish I would have discovered before my book was written--for my own personal and professional reasons.
 
It is really quite ridiculous that I did not discover this book during my extended research process. In fact, as I scratch at the reaches of my brain, I am pretty sure that I clicked right past it. At one point I decided that I needed to narrow my scope of research, to only tangentially consider "sport." I wanted to consider sport mostly as it stood in for "fitness," as it narrows the overall quality of fitness to an athletic/competitive activity that relies upon the mastering of a set of specific skills. I remember scrolling by thinking "skating" is not "fitness." And it's not, but I didn't imagine at the time just how relevant skating is, at least in the context of Rand's work.

Since author, Erica Rand, is practically my neighbor and is a friend of a colleague of mine, and since I am pretty sure said colleague mentioned this book to me at one point, it is simply a travesty that I did not pick it up. Her arguments about pleasure, social justice, and queer bodies and queer approaches and spaces would have been helpful to round out some of my less developed arguments. For instance, while I write about the term "pleasure" scaring away participants, Rand boldly writes a whole chapter on the connection of skating and pleasure titled, "Skating Is Like Sex, Except When It Isn't" and in the first paragraph she proceeds to provide the best definition/description of sex I have ever read:

        For me, skating is a lot like sex. It's at once hot, intense, smooth, and sweet. It involves control, in ways that mix taking         and yielding it. It's rhythmic, you can improve with practice, little things can make all the difference, it can feel like flying,         and when it really works it's intensely in-body and out-of-body at the same time (46).

While I apologize, Rand embraces.

But the biggest reason I lament my oversight is that Erica Rand's book is so much like mine at the same time that it is so different from mine. It would have been helpful to have her book in a kind of role model/mentor kind of way. So many things that I was afraid to do with my book--tell my story (even the personal details), use myself as a research subject, put my body on display beside the product of my brain--Rand does with confidence, poise, and insight. She owns her work in a way that I want to own my work.
 
Even the structure/approach of my work has similarities to Rand's book. When I read her "Introduction: Skate to Write, Write to Skate," I felt like we had parallel projects. The thoughtful subtitles, the process laid bare, the personal narrative, the connection between the spheres of academia and physical embodiment/engagement, and the desire to reach audiences beyond academia, are all qualities that our work shares. She lays it out with confidence.
 
I lay it out with trepidation--a different language, a less-definable subject (skating is more concrete, fitness is diverse and abstract), an exploratory method, a distilling of theory, a weaving of less defined voices and more abstract ideas. I am still in the process of understanding how to do critical interdisciplinary work; and interdisciplinary theory and methodology will be one of my next research projects.

But, ultimately, for both of our works, transformation is the impetus. In conclusion Rand writes about "the principle of ethical fieldwork: Don't take from communities you study without giving back" (261). This is a principle that is embodied in my dual spheres of fitness and academia; for both of us, "fieldwork" is also life. She also reminds me that "there is not one single way to effect change ... in the rink only" or "to participate in anti-oppression struggles across categories of race, gender, sexuality, economics, and nation" (261). Academia and activism, pleasure and politics do not have to be binaries.
 
Our endings are even similar. She notes, "we need to get out there and do the work. And still, then again . . ." (261), while I note "if we are willing to do the work(out)." But neither of us can let that be the last word. I turn to final relaxation/rejuvenation. She turns to correcting a myth (that I perpetuate)--that Emma Goldman never actually said: "If I can't dance, I don't want to be in your revolution." But, Rand argues, she did express this sentiment. And to this sentiment, Rand adds, "And sparkle."
 
Next installment of additions and reconsiderations: Hanne Blank, The Unapologetic Fat Girl's Guide to Exercise: And Other Incendiary Acts.

In this blog I want to highlight the work of two important figures in the feminist fitness movement (some pun intended). As my title reveals, the common theme is the concept/lens of decolonization.

Among critical, interdisciplinary, feminist theories, decolonization is a complicated, variegated field of inquiry that overlaps with the theories and methods that form the basis of my inquiries in Women and Fitness in American Culture. For instance, the relationship between the oppressor and the oppressed--the colonial power and the colonized--is one of dominance and subordination. But there is also room to maneuver here--those who have been colonized must be decolonized.

"Decolonizing Yoga" is the title of Be Scofield's website and "Decolonizing Fitness" it the title of Mercado-López's forthcoming anthology. I first became acquainted with Decolonizing Yoga via Tiffany Kell's post--"Practicing Yoga While Fat"--and through Be Scofield's chapter in 21st Century Yoga--both of which I cite and discuss in Women and Fitness in American Culture. Decolonizing Yoga brings a much-needed perspective to the world of yoga, one that interrupts and challenges the feel-good liberalism and humanism that is often found in yoga spaces, and one that challenges what yoga means on and off the mat. In the "about" section: "After the [2013] Yoga Journal Conference the Decolonizing Yoga Facebook Page has highlighted the voices of queer people, people of color, disability activists and more in relationship to yoga and countering oppression in general."

(And since I'm writing about Decolonizing Yoga, I can't help but share this piece about two of my loves: yoga and Hip Hop: "From Gandhi to Kendrick Lamar: On the Cultural Defense of Yoga and Hip Hop.")

The story of how I became acquainted with Mercado-López and her work is filled with fated and seemingly coincidental connections. I was so excited to hear about her work, including: a presentation at NWSA (which I missed, but mentioned in my blog post on the subject of fitness at the NWSA); her related blog posts (which I wish I would have found before my book went to press), the most widely circulated being "Not Just Another Fitness Blog"; and her edited collection, whose CFP for "Decolonizing Fitness: Women of Color, Feminism, and the Politics of 'Fit' Bodies" is currently circulating and (I hope) gaining momentum. According to the CFP, "This anthology welcomes submissions that discuss the use of social technologies to expand definitions of fitness, dispel myths about health and exercise, and build supportive communities around the social and material realities of women of color."

Beyond my personal interest and passion, Scofield's and Mercado-López's work is important to the work of critical, transformative, feminist fitness in a variety of ways. Because my work in Women and Fitness in American Culture is limited by my own scope of experience, and because I meant it as a conversation-starter, the voices, perspectives, and subjects that "Decolonizing Fitness" promises will do much to move fitness out of the realm of thin, white bodies and standardized, whitewashed fitness spaces.

These two spaces for decolonization of fitness spaces and ideas are just a beginning--an exciting, inspiring, and enlightening beginning.

Just when I thought that fitness was not on the American Studies Association annual conference program (see Yoga for a Cause), I attended the ASA Women's Committee session Saturday afternoon, "Critical Conjunctures of Debt: Women of Color,  Healthcare Disparities, and Advocacy." I was a little bit late. After two moving presentations by the other panel members, Shirley Tang and Jacki Rand, Koritha Mitchell gave the presentation I had come for: "Pay Yourself First and Pay It Forward: The Black Girls RUN! Project."

In Women and Fitness in American Culture I highlight the problematic aspects of the national healthcare agenda and the conversation around American fitness that we see in popular culture. I also highlight the ways in which fitness can help us work toward transforming these conversations and policies. Koritha Mitchell's presentation complements my work in important ways as her arguments about the bigger picture of American fitness mesh with mine, and she extends the conversation to speak specifically to black women's experiences, in all their diversity. At the end of the panel, chair and commentator, Alondra Nelson, remarked that it's about time that we consider health research in the Arts and Sciences. I couldn't agree more, and I hope that my work provides a jumping off point for many conversations, like those begun at ASA by professors Mitchell and Nelson.

Professor Mitchell framed her discussion of Black Girls Run! through a larger picture of American culture and politics, particularly the racism of "know-your-place aggression" seen in its most extremes in the recent Trayvon Martin and Renisha McBride cases. These cases are nothing new, and they are not rare. In this climate, Mitchell argues, "exercise has become invaluable"; it is a way to avoid despair and to prioritize self-care while equipping others to do the same. This is particularly important for black women and other women of color who are devalued--body and mind--by American culture and whose lives are often wholly devoted to the service of others. As Mitchell argues, "energy is our most precious resource" and black women deserve to put themselves first. Preserving such energy is the only way to continue to give that energy to our families, our communities, our work, and to social justice.

She also frames her discussion in terms of the national debate about health care and the emphasis in American culture on health and fitness as weight loss. Mitchell's presentation was not the only one at ASA to make a connection between the government initiatives of "My Plate" and "Let's Move" and the limited and limiting representations of "health" and "fitness" that target African American women. (Karisa Butler-Wall presented her paper, "Risky Business: Race, Citizenship, and the Biopolitics of Debt in the 'Obesity Crisis.'") But the problems that plague black women's health are not individual problems; they are structural problems. As Mitchell argues, Americans are sedentary. Americans eat too much salt and sugar. Americans eat too much fast food.

After framing the climate and arguing the importance of self-care, Dr. Mitchell discussed the ways in which The Black Girls Run! chapter that she organized in Columbus, OH, in April of 2011, helps to mitigate these circumstances and transform the experiences of black women individually and in community. The story she tells is one that echoes and extends the stories I tell in Women and Fitness in American Culture. While I weave other voices and stories into my own, I also make it clear that my experience in fitness is limited by my geographical locations, my whiteness, my middle-class status, and other factors that shape women's individual and collective fitness experiences. We need more stories.

We need to take up more space. The work of Black Girls Run! takes place in cyber spaces as well as in real life. Mitchell notes the supportive environment that Facebook offers through its daily activity and the ways in which this organization continues to resist the notion that losing weight is motivation for exercise. BGR! adopts the important ideas that exercise is beneficial no matter what size a woman is and that exercise is punishment if it is linked to weight loss. These are important messages in a culture that devalues "fat" while blaming the individual for structural problems.

Perhaps the most important philosophy expressed through Mitchell's chapter of BGR! is the idea: "I am grateful I can move, so I am moving." This is the basis for feminist and mind/body fitness that I discuss in Women and Fitness in American Culture. Likewise, BGR! is flexible, supports beginners, and operates with a "no woman left behind" philosophy. Everyone crosses the finish line and everyone does the level of activity they are able to do that day. Members support one another on the run and in life; they challenge each other to be their best. And yet, Mitchell argues, there is no flexibility with a culture of excuses. (And she provides fun motivational messages like those on her Pinterest page.) BGR! leaders must be reliable and on time, and must not let weather control their desire to run. Ultimately, building a community presence means being accountable to that community. Strong leaders like Koritha Mitchell, make a difference.

As I note of my own work in the sphere of fitness, Mitchell argues that the work she does with Black Girls Run! makes her work in academia possible. Running is crucial for Mitchell's intellectual self, just as my practice of yoga and cardio/dance are for me. For both of us, this fitness space allows us to interact with people outside of academia, to connect with our community in meaningful ways. For Mitchell, this is an important space of connection since the two activities that allow black women to interact (traditionally, and in Columbus specifically)--church and activities for children--are not spaces Mitchell is involved with. Further, she notes that this work has "really driven home for me just how diverse black women are. If we didn't have racism," she notes, then black women might not have much in common.

Diverse women come together in fitness spaces, and the benefits of fitness communities cannot be overlooked or underestimated. As Dr. Nelson pulled together the threads of the presentations on this panel, she included a slide show with quotes from the Black Panther Party and Audre Lorde. In both cases, the importance of self-care and health as an integral part of the "aspiration and practice" of "the liberation struggle" were highlighted. Her role call of women in academia lost too soon was a sobering reminder that the importance of self-care is both an individual and structural problem and priority, particularly for women of color whose bodies and minds are undervalued and exploited. Health and fitness are issues that cross categories and disciplines and deserve a more thorough look from the arts and sciences, and from interdisciplinary, feminist inquiry, as well as from American studies scholars.

When I arrived in Cincinnati, exhausted from the school year, let alone the travel, I had just enough time to go check in at the conference site and to pick up the fliers that my publisher said they'd have for my book. When I arrived at McFarland's display table, I was shocked to see my book--in the flesh! (Thanks, Layla!) What a treat to be able to see and touch my book. It looks so good! Perusing all the tables, there is nothing out there like Women and Fitness in American Culture. Now, how do I ensure it reaches the many diverse audiences who will be interested in my work?!

This year, and in 2010, I presented my fitness research-in-progress as a workshop, rather than reading a paper. (See my blog about Inspiration from NWSA.) I write about my 2010 workshop in Women and Fitness in American Culture, which helped inspire me to write the book. My presentation this year was "Organic Dance, Fitness, and Self-Care as a Practice for Effecting Change." I had about a dozen women who were brave enough to come dance with me at 9:25 in the morning. They were warm and encouraging and brought me much joy. I introduced some basic ideas, we danced, and we discussed. They had great questions that will help me to continue to develop my work.

But this year, there were more opportunities for fitness than I expected, and I could not make it to all of them. I missed a presentation: "Decolonizing Fitness: The Cultural Production of 'Fit' Latina Bodies." I'm hoping to connect with the author post-conference to hear more. I also missed a Roundtable: "Investigating Gender and Health from a Feminist Perspective Within a Women's Studies Department." Faculty members from the University of Michigan's Gender and Health minor talked about their curriculum and their students who proceed to "feminist-inflected careers." I'm bummed to have missed these two presentations; however, the reason I missed them was because of what I was able to attend.

The real highlight of this conference for me was the yoga class and workshop that took place on Saturday morning. At the Hilton hotel (the official hotel of the conference), Becky Thompson (of Simmons College) offered a yoga class "for everyone" at 7 a.m. I made sure my alarm was set! Three years ago I had encouraged NWSA to offer yoga and fitness classes on my conference evaluation form. I even offered to teach, but I never heard back and I haven't been able to attend the conference again until this year. With connections to NWSA leadership, Becky was more successful and, for the first time ever, yoga was a part of the NWSA program. I could not be more excited.

If it hadn't been for this yoga class, I would not have seen the related workshop on the program. In fact, even after I knew about the workshop, I had trouble finding it in the program because of its title("It's in the Breath, This Strength") and location (bottom on one page, continuing on to another). But after a quick shower and a smoothie, I attended the 9:25 workshop where Michele Tracy Berger (University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill) and Diane Harriford (Vassar College) joined Becky to talk about their experience with yoga. It was so inspiring to hear about their work, but it was also encouraging to hear other women talk about the split they feel between academia and this other world of yoga/fitness.

Each of these women, and the participants in this workshop, shared some of the ways in which yoga is being used toward social justice, and how we might better use yoga toward these purposes. Until I attended this workshop (and read sites like Decolonizing Yoga and books like 21st-Century Yoga: Culture, Politics & Practice), I felt rather isolated in the work of promoting social justice through yoga. This is a topic I broach in Women and Fitness in American Culture. Yoga is often seen as--and practiced as--an individual fitness pursuit or an individual path toward spiritual enlightenment. For me, yoga has always been so much more. For many of my students, it is so much more.

Since this workshop had the support of NWSA's president, vice-president, and treasurer, I can only assume that yoga will continue to have a place at NWSA. And I can hope that my work might inspire them/us to open up our discussions of yoga and social justice/self-care to consider fitness more generally. This is, in fact, one of the agendas of Women and Fitness in American Culture. So, I'll keep doing the work(out), and look for opportunities to work in solidarity.

When I shared excerpts from my book-in-progress with my students last fall, there were a few things that really struck them. I consider these to be "small" points that I am making, which makes it even more interesting how these "small" things resonated with them.

"Men seek to take up space; women disappear." Multiple students connected with this idea, and we discussed it from several angles. This semester a student shared a "feminist poem" with me, a piece by Lily Meyers that won the "best love poem" at the College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational at Wesleyan--
"Shrinking Women"
This spoken word piece illustrates this idea artfully. Her piece also echoes the stories I tell about my parents, and the legacies about bodies and space that we all carry from our families.

The other thing that students really connected with was a poem that I wrote called "The F Word." Students especially liked the end of the poem, a call to "fearless/fucking feminists." Students thought that this should be the title of my book and joked about how they would publish an underground version of my book with this title. For them, this is the truth that my writing spoke.

The fact that my students really connected with this title brings up some interesting points about language. Anyone who has had a conversation about feminism is familiar with the argument: why don't they just change the name? If "the f word" is so packed with misunderstandings, why don't we just call it humanism? Such conversations are short-lived in my classrooms. Once students begin to understand exactly how feminism emerged and grew, once they realize the impacts it has made on our collective and individual lives, they start to embrace--or at least understand--the term.

Claiming a feminist identity or ideology is another act of taking up space, refusing to set aside a word that has transformed the world just because of the ignorance and backlash that surrounds it.

Perhaps it was the "profanity" connected to both fearless and feminist that resonated with students. We are not used to hearing such words in our classrooms. One of my online students in my intro to American studies course has remarked multiple times after watching the recording of the class discussion that she has never heard so much profanity in a classroom. She says that she can't watch the class video when her children are around. The other students were surprised to hear this complaint. Perhaps when students discuss subjects that they are passionate about, they do not censor their language as much. Perhaps such passion has become so common place that I don't hear the "profanity" anymore.

Maybe this is what will happen to "feminism"; we will hear it so much that it will cease to register as "profanity." It will cease to offend those who prefer the softer, fuzzier idea of humanism (which is not at all the same as feminism). The word will not lose its weight; it will sink in and settle. It will take up space.

Fitness programs love t-shirts. Run a 5K, get a t-shirt. Lose the most weight, get a t-shirt. Part of a team, matching t-shirts. We don't even have to do anything physical--donate money, get a free t-shirt. Years ago, when I worked as a fitness instructor at the Student Recreation Center at Washington State University, this t-shirt announced a kind of motivational campaign that asked "what keeps you moving?"

Because I am a busy person, I am asked a version of this question quite often. Since I don't drink coffee and most people assume my energy must come from caffeine, usually my first answer is water. Some of it might come from my almost-daily Synergy kombucha tea. But, really, it is fitness that keeps me moving. The more I move, the more energy I have to keep moving.

I use the term "fitness" rather than "exercise" because fitness encompasses not only a range of activities, but a state of being and a mindset as well. Making a place for fitness in my life is more than just an exercise routine or a regimen--it is a recognition that strength, balance, flexibility, and endurance are building blocks not only for health and fitness but for life itself.

During the academic school year, I teach a fitness class (or two) 5 or 6 mornings a week. I don't teach the early morning (5:45 a.m.)classes, but 8:00 or 9:30 (or even 10:30 on Saturday) is early enough to still be "early" for me, a recovering night owl. Sometimes my 8:00 a.m. yoga class is really difficult to get out of bed for, especially when the dark Maine winter morning greets me and especially when I have been teaching or working late the evening before. But, I have to be there. People are depending on me.

This summer I decided to lighten my teaching load and gave up my Tuesday morning class, making Thursday morning my only "early" morning. My Tuesdays without yoga have generally been lazy and unproductive. I usually take a nap and sometimes I feel depressed for most of the day. I don't even start moving, so I can't keep moving. Thursdays are different. I'm done with class by 9:30 and I get an amazing amount of work done. It's a good reminder for me that I need to keep moving. Whenever I think about giving up one of my morning classes, I remember the way I feel after class. Perfect and amazing and ready to take on any challenge my day holds.

So, teaching keeps me moving. Yoga keeps me moving my body and my mind. Having a class of people waiting for me, keeps me moving. The transformation from cold, grouchy, tired, grumbly, angry to relaxed and energized--for me and my students--keeps us moving. And as transformative as yoga is, I get as much from my cardio classes. The types of movement may be different, but they are all part of a bigger fitness picture--a way of moving through life as much as through our bodies.

I am not a big fan of the t-shirt. I find them to be uncomfortable and unflattering. They choke me and they never fit right. They're hot and they restrict my movement. They are also a way of advertising a message on the outside of our bodies to anyone who is looking. They can be a way of branding ourselves, or communicating something that is important to us--clothing with a cause, a campaign, or an attitude. The t-shirt is practically disposable, moving from one trend to the next, even when the cause is a worthy one. And more than likely, someone's underpaid sweat--someone with no choice but to keep moving--made the t-shirt in the first place.

What keeps us moving is what we internalize; what keeps us moving is what we know that we need. We have to keep moving so that we can keep finding that feeling and so we can move ourselves as well as others. The t-shirt is one tool, but what's more important is what's underneath it.