Why Don’t More Men Do Yoga?
Exploring How Personal Bias Can Influence the Healthy Options We Pursue (or Don’t Pursue)
You don’t have a be a rocket scientist to see that most yoga classes are full of women and hardly any men. I generally see a ratio of 3 or 4 men to 20 women in most classes. Often, I’m the only man enjoying the full-body stretch of mountain pose or struggling to “embrace the wobble” as I balance in the demanding tree pose. In India, where yoga began about 2,500 years ago through the teachings of a man named Patanjali, yoga was historically practiced mainly by men, although now it has become widely practiced by women as well. Those who have popularized yoga in the West, like B. K. S. Iyengar, have mainly been men.
Truth be told, despite having practiced yoga for quite a while now, I only started going to classes with other people a few years ago. I still do most of my yoga practice on my own and, occasionally, in a private session to address a specific issue with my friend and world-class yoga teacher Nikki Costello. Recently, I started going to two classes a week on Long Island with two great teachers, Claire Copersino and Wade Karlin. When in London, I attend a weekly yoga class at the Life Centre in Notting Hill. I’m often the only man—or one of just a few men—in any given class of 15 to 25 people.
A friend in his sixties struggles with lower-back problems, spasms, and sciatica. Medical scans show nothing wrong structurally, just muscles and joints that need more movement to keep them functional as he gets older. I mentioned yoga as a possibility as it helped me many years ago with my own lower-back problems. His immediate, even forceful, pushback was, “Not my thing.” I didn’t pursue this line of discussion with him, but I started thinking that most Western men probably have the same attitude.
Somehow, a perception in the West gained traction—the idea that yoga is “soft” and “not tough.” And while yoga is practiced at a slower, more controlled, and conscious way, I assure you it really is tough! I have seen big, strong “tough” men—bodybuilders and ex-military guys—show up for a class with their wives and find themselves sweating within minutes. They have a hard time getting through a class from a strength standpoint as well as a flexibility standpoint. These guys probably are used to static bodybuilding exercises in the gym but have no idea how to use their bodies in yoga’s more natural and integrated way. Yet despite the fact that yoga is a far more effective overall health practice than lifting isolated weights, most men shy away from it because is it seems “soft,” “not tough,” and not manly. Appearing to be soft and gentle is something that many Western men shy away from.
You can call this attitude a man/woman issue, a blue-collar/white-collar issue, or even a resistance to anything “spiritual.” (In the West, most yoga classes don’t have a spiritual aspect—or they are only somewhat “spiritual” by virtue of the fact that they encourage introspection and often include a brief meditation at the end of class.) But here’s my point: we all carry biases for and against certain types of exercise that are often based on perceptions (or misperceptions), not objectively based on the exercises’ specific health benefits. And being human, chances are we mostly practice what we are comfortable with and not challenge ourselves to move out of our comfort zones.
The Bigger Picture
This raises a bigger question for me as to how and why we choose (or don’t choose) the healthy options we pursue in life. These decisions are rarely based on how effective particular activities are but, instead, on the activities we enjoy doing or feel safe and comfortable doing. Our choices may be influenced by other people who are doing them (for example, our spouse or friends) or doing them fits with our image of the kind of person we are. These decisions are decidedly “inner” promptings. If we are lucky, the activities we like doing and feel comfortable doing are also good for us from a health and science research standpoint.
These decisions and biases also apply to those who don’t have any movement, exercise, nutritional, or other health practices in their lives whatsoever, despite all the research and evidence that these practices work to keep us healthier and live longer. I am fairly convinced that no amount of research or rational argument would get this group of folks to follow healthier practices. I suspect their avoidance comes from a much deeper source, which could range from not wanting to be “one of those people” to feeling that good health and well-being isn’t worth pursuing because “it wouldn’t make any difference anyway.” This is the old “I could get hit by a bus tomorrow” rationale that many sedentary people use to justify their own lack of action, and to also justify their pursuit of the many unhealthy comforts of modern life.
Those who manage to break these attitudes have something critical going for them: they aren’t afraid to try something new to see if it works for them, or theyareafraid and they try it anyway. Whether it’s losing weight, starting to move, or even just being more aware of your health and how being healthier might benefit you, it’s thetryingthat gets things going. If you try something new that you think might be good for you, it starts a chain of experience and engages new gears and dynamics in your thinking and experience, and starts a feedback loop that can spur momentum, excitement, and ever-greater results. This is the path toward good health. It’s not the full journey, just a step at a time, sometimes literally, that will keep you going longer, with more ease and less hardship as you get older.
