That's Not A Man Pose

Tonight in yoga class I felt truly masterful. Which is rare, because I often feel sorely inadequate. Able to move with the best of them, my poses were felt downright cozy.

Then the instructor shouted to the dude next to me, "What, are your legs tight or something? It's OK. It's just not a man pose."

So much for possibility.

That comment didn't make me feel that I would be supported, as the guy clearly wasn't getting help from this shrieking teacher. I didn't roll back on my spine and think, "Ah, yes...this is effortless, as it is a woman's pose." It was as if a wall went up then and there in class: girls on one side, boys on the other. Back to square one.

I wouldn't be the first person to point out that it's often in these places of supposed spiritual exaltment that this kind of neanderthal behavior takes place. I mean, there we all are, taking a really freaking long time out of our day to do something that usually makes you feel pushed to your limit. It was the man's third class, and Fixed-Firm pose is challenging, and no one needs to be harped on.

It's not on the regular that I take time out to lend my support to the male gender, as they've got advantages in spades which I am painfully aware of. But as a woman who loves men and particularly men who take the risks a practice such as yoga requires of you, I wondered if the male-centered yoga of India had been reversed in California by a mass-market "feminism" that doesn't seek equality and respect but rather role reversal.

It's not about girl power, or pleasure parties, or saying we're smarter. It's not my pose, or his pose. For better or worse, it's ours. And I would hate it if anyone got to sit out while I bent backwards into Camel.