Welcome to the second post in the “How She Does It” blog series, featuring Black, Indigenous, and Women of Colour (“BIWOC”) founders and business owners. The mission: support BIWOC-owned businesses and initiatives by creating an online space for their stories, brands, and experiences.
A shared experience that BIWOC (Black, Indigenous, & Women of Colour) communities can often relate to: stepping into a room and realizing no one else looks like you. This extends beyond boardrooms, and includes wellness spaces such as yoga studios and spin classes.
This is what led Rebeckah Price to start i rise yoga + wellness, as she was tired of being the only woman of colour in yoga and wellness spaces: “I’ve been practicing off and on for 20 years and I never felt at home or at ease when I would go to a studio to practice, which is ironic because parts of yoga practice are rooted in the idea of settling into ease.”
Launching her yoga classes were also part of a larger conversation she was having within BIPOC communities, which centered around the right to be “well” and who had access to spaces to encourage wellness: “[BIPOC communities] didn’t see themselves reflected back in the magazines, studio advertisements, and clothing ads. This led to a bigger conversation of their worthiness to be in this space of healing and self care. So I thought to myself, this needs to change and decided I would be that change.”
Rebeckah is also the co-founder of The Well Collective, which offers wellness programs shaped by the communities they work with (both geographically and non-geographically). “I have done a lot of work in my practice to honor and not appropriate the various roots of yoga. I have spent time working on decolonizing my practice as a teacher and student, which is necessary when you teach diverse and marginalized communities.”
The Well Collective started after Rebeckah and her co-founder, Snjezana Prugnic, commented on the lack of diversity at a wellness event on a social media post. “Interestingly, the audience of that event attacked me and other women of colour who joined the conversation. Snjezana, who is white, was completely sidestepped by her white peers. It led to a dialogue on who they felt owned wellness in this city. Through the Well Collective, we get to unpack this and center BIPOC folks as the teachers and experts as a reminder to people that the practices they teach originate in the very same BIPOC communities they are excluding.”
I sat down with Rebeckah to discuss how she cultivates community through her yoga instruction, the importance of representation in the wellness industry, and the connection between racism and the well-being of the Black community.
I’m Not Here to Preach – I’m Here to Help You Rise
Rebeckah has over 20 years of experience working in the not-for-profit sector as a Community Development and Engagement Specialist, developing policies related to diversity & inclusion, equity, conflict resolution, settlement and integration.
Her philosophy: “In every space I operate in, [I] give people the tools they need to rise above and move through situations. I’m not here to preach; instead, let’s rise together. With more of us rising, my hope is that you’ll turn around to uplift others.”
Rebeckah notes that racialized people are often referred to as “other” – within both spaces but also within their own bodies. They are often made to feel “less than”, which can lead to an internal struggle to understand their value and worth. Through her instruction, Rebeckah is hoping to share some of the perspectives and techniques that have worked to help her: “Melanated people – we absorb light – and we are light. I’m cognizant of the fact that I’m not the only yoga teacher, but I’ll be an entry point for that conversation internally and bringing that conversation to others.”
Wellness begins with ‘WE’
Rebeckah’s yoga practice and instruction is rooted in her intersectional understanding of power. The Well Collective recently hosted a town hall on anti-Black racism and its impact on the well-being of the Black community. The discussion centered around how race plays a role in the justice system, the education system (e.g. applied vs academic streams in highschool), and as a determinant for poverty. “Its about understanding the impact of racism and how it shows up in our world, including the subtle micro aggressions. Racism is systemic and institutionalized, and this has a direct impact on wellness.”
Rebeckah’s definition of wellness is holistic and includes a connection to community: “Wellness isn’t just linear – wellness is spirituality, connected to social determinants of health, and community. It is also involves understanding trauma and how this gets stored in our bodies.”
She notes that wellness studios have typically approached a trauma-informed practice to heavily focus on violence against women and sexual trauma. However, by default, this does not acknowledge the other narratives that show up in that space: “I’m a victim of physical and sexual trauma, but I’ve had more trauma being a Black woman.”
Rebeckah believes that healing cannot begin in these spaces if there’s no acknowledgement of other types of trauma such as traumas related to your race, living in poverty, and the trauma of having to hide your sexual orientation. “Think about what it means to be a POC coming to a yoga class where the teacher is white, and the implications of their tone around not being able to get into posture. It may be a reminder that you’re not worthy and something is wrong with you – maybe they’ve had this experience in the education system and you as a teacher are triggering them. Think about touch as it relates to a population of people with a history of slavery or a history of being physically assaulted by the police. You can’t be a point of healing if you’re not acknowledging these trauma narratives.”
Wellness doesn’t mean wearing Lululemon
For BIPOC communities, Rebeckah notes that accessibility to wellness continues to be an issue. Her definition of accessibility refers to “multiple entry points to allow someone to show up”. She emphasizes the importance of access for youth: “Imagine we created a space of healing for black and brown youth to talk about their pain and acknowledge the trauma of what it’s like to live in certain neighbourhoods. We would provide a different way for these young people to show up in the world.”
In order to encourage accessibility, Rebeckah recommends wellness founders and instructors ask themselves several questions: “Access includes costs – is it equitable for the haves and have nots? Access means language – is it simple language and relatable? Access means building community – how are you building community; do I know your name and whether you’ve been away? Access refers to geographic locations, representation at the front of the room and meeting people where they’re at – how are you creating a safe space for people to feel like they belong?”.
Rebeckah hopes that open dialogue and introspective conversations on accessibility will lead to different levels of ownership for BIPOC communities – ownership of space, ownership of jobs in the wellness industry and reclaiming the self-worth that was theirs to begin with.
Everyone has the right to be well
Undoubtedly, Rebeckah’s faced criticism for creating BIPOC/BIWOC spaces, some calling it reverse racism, and for calling out the wellness industry for their lack of inclusion and representation. She’s also faced a number of barriers launching both ventures: “I started off with events and I would e-mail studios across the city to get access to their space with no response. That was hard. It was also challenging for people to buy into the idea of collective wellness, community care and everyone’s right to be well. Accessing funds was difficult as people couldn’t understand why I would want to focus on marginalized communities and they thought it was a poor business model.”
Despite the challenges, she has no regrets: “There hasn’t been any difficult decisions – when you pursue your passion and believe in your heart what you’re doing is right, the decisions never feel difficult.”
Through both i rise yoga and The Well Collective, Rebeckah’s ultimate goal is to work herself out of a job. She is a starting point for community development, and hopes to see her role minimized as people from BIPOC communities feel empowered to lead.
Changing the narrative for young Black men
As we conclude our interview, I ask Rebeckah about the way she’s practiced self-care for herself and her family, including her three sons, during the COVID lockdown and the uprising Black Lives Matter movement. For herself, Rebeckah roots her mornings in silence – drinking tea, relaxing, and connecting to breath. As a family, they go for walks, train together, and have dinners involving some epic family freestyle battles. Most importantly, in her words, “I have taught [my sons] the value of figuring out what self-care looks like and how it shows up for them – this is important, especially as I’m raising young Black boys, soon to be Black men. I want to change the narrative around how Black men are taught to show up for themselves and the ones they love. So I focus a lot of my energy on teaching my boys this because it is important for their physical, emotional, mental and spiritual survival.”
Quick Questions
- I read that you use rap lyrics as part of your daily mantra – what’s one that resonates with you given where you are right now? We came a long way from the bottom of the boat – “We Made It” – Jay Z feat. Jay Electronica
- Finish this sentence: Freedom is… to move and breathe freely.
- What do you know for sure? In the words of my dear friend Navi Gill: Wellness is our sovereignty.