I’m not happy about beginning this article talking about Yoga Journal, but I see no other way in. You may not have heard, but Yoga Journal, the authoritative publisher on yoga™ and, by extension, the wellness industry at large, has failed any reader who is not thin, white and able-bodied since, I don’t know, it began. They failed particularly hard in January 2019 and again later that June when two Black women, Jessamyn Stanley and Nicole Cardoza, who were slated for the cover, were measured against a white counterpart to make sure the issue would still sell. This was a racist and traumatizing marketing play that led to well-deserved public backlash. In June, after a few days of muted feeds, they surfaced with an apology in which they pledged, among other things, to create an equity advisory board, open up executive roles for women of color, and be transparent in the process. Since then, their feed has certainly looked more diverse, giving an outward appearance that maybe some internal shift had occurred. But when I emailed them recently to ask if they’ve upheld their commitments, and they emailed Nicole to ask for a fast turn-around approval for a #BlackoutTuesday headshot use, they admitted that, a full year later, there was still no advisory board, solid staffing plan, nor meaningful shift in culture. Yoga Journal’s failure to follow through on their promises, with the backdrop of a massive media reckoning where heads at ABC, The New York Times, R29, Man Repeller, and Bon Appetit have stepped down, begs a lot of questions about what it means right now to be, like me, a white editor in media. I grapple with what it means to uphold, or interrupt, a narrative, and what it means to be in relationship with whom that narrative is shared. Editors often have an intention to “empathize” with their audiences. In Yoga Journal’s apology, Jon Dorn, the head of its parent company, said, “I’ve been a passionate believer in research as a way to understand what our audiences want from our brands.” Empathy is also key to “design-thinking”, a topic I teach courses on. Design-thinking values a circular process where a designer begins by deeply understanding their user base before creating a product. The first stage is always a research period to “build empathy.” So a designer will do some interviews or “walk in their users’ shoes” until they feel they’ve got a grasp on their existing experience and are ready to design something for it. But this process of “empathizing” is so far situated in a divided and hierarchical us-them framework–just like how most topical editorial teams operate when they want to cover anything outside of their own knitting circle. The result is often short-sighted and racist, not just for readers or users, but staff too. Sinikiwe Dhliwayo, founder of NAAYA, and who has worked in publishing for over a decade, said of her time with large media teams: “My experience is based on hierarchy. Not based on like, ‘Oh hey, this person has that lived experience, maybe we should lean on that to, you know, create this headline or help shape this article; versus a bogus hierarchy.” We can do better. Deem Journal’s creative director, Nu Goteh, in a panel discussion with research and design lab SPACE10, spoke to a design process in which building empathy is used as the threshold towards empowerment. Again: empathy is the threshold towards empowerment. He asked, “What starts to happen, when you step out of the way and let the end user be the one who steers the design?” In other words, who’s in power? Similarly, how might editors better collaborate rather than commission and refine? And within that process, how and to whom are editors held accountable? Empathy as the threshold to empowerment. Through that lens, media starts to look a lot like a relationship and a community. Aligned began like many publications do; to share an untold story. It was our hope to create a community out of those who were sidelined from a mainstream wellness narrative. It wasn’t an identity checklist thing, rather a “who do I need in my corner” and “who’s corner do I need to be in?” thing. And the editorial question inside of this has always been: how many different ways could we possibly find to actually take care of ourselves, and one another? I believe that, done well, media begets community, and the community creates media. And while Aligned is relatively small, I hope that reflects here. But authentic community isn’t something you can back into. Last year, Yoga Journal’s “Cultural Issue,” included a section on cultural appropriation which Susanna Barkataki, an Indian yoga practitioner, and teacher trainer discussed on her site: “The truth is four South Asian women were pictured together in an issue where 5 of us wrote about cultural appropriation and we DIDN’T EVEN MAKE IT INTO THE MARKETING SURVEY to be considered for the cover.” (The cover ended up being a headless white woman accessorized with mālā beads). So what gives? Who was this empowering except for the collective, white editorial ego? Diversity in this way still orbits and clutches whiteness as a default mode. If reciprocal relationship is not at the core–in the threads of a brand’s fabric makeup–then after about three weeks of news-reactive, “diverse content”, the editors room will be filled with the sheepish murmur of, “Is it okay to post the vanilla latte piece yet?” This type of racist violence happens all the time because inside hyper-capitalism, representation is still treated like PR crisis mitigation rather than an invitation to completely rewrite the script. But what do you do when a brand’s cultural DNA is already set? Can the culture or individual editor change, or must they be replaced entirely? Who’d do the replacing? And who would a new standard of brand values be accountable to? (Here’s a good moment to note that I am not, by any stretch, an expert on corporate diversity. But Amelian Kashiro Hamilton, who is way more qualified, has spoken on this). What I do know is this: when inclusion is really practiced, when it’s inherent, a queer person might be featured not soley based on their queerness, but because of their total, queer-included goodness. A Black person might be interviewed not solely because they are Black, but because of their full humanity. Publishing has done this. The tradition of Black, queer and punk zine culture model what it means to create and consume media that is made for the explicit purpose of collective care. There was YELL, a 90’s zine focusing on teen issues with the AIDS crisis. There was Fire!!, created during the Harlem Renaissance by writers such as Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston. There were the punk and Riot Grrrl zines, the regular Black Panther Party newspaper, and literally hundreds of others. These were made in relationship with community, and in many cases were essential to that community’s survival. What these independent publishers know is that media, small or large, influence the cultural narrative. And that a cultural narrative is, in so many ways, inextricable from the individual body. One of my favorite zines I own was given to me by one of my students from Manhattan Detention Center, where I’ve offered movement and meditation classes for the past few years. She had collected poems from the other women in the trans housing unit, which were later printed, stapled together, and distributed throughout the dorm. I have no idea how she got them stapled, but the works in that zine are some of the most honest writing I have ever read, and the process itself was a form of healing. Empathy as the threshold to empowerment. The role and responsibility of the editor is to deliberately and invariably choose which narratives to uphold and which to interrupt. To question with whom you are in relationship with, and, especially for white editors, to whom you answer. I’m responsible for my own work, and the work I do with Aligned. I’m responsible for when I show up, and also when I don’t. Sinikiwe adds here, “If you’re hiring a Black writer and you’re a top editor and you fully want them to be in their voice, you’re going to have to relinquish your power.” Editors need to center, humanize and invest in Black lives and Black creatives, at their very core. Maybe the question is no longer how to do that, but rather, why is it not already happening? And for the folks like Yoga Journal that can’t make it work, then maybe it’s time to just hand it over.
