Yoga can be seen as an accessible way to exercise and improve wellbeing. You don’t always need a gym membership, specialist machinery or other people to do it.
But in practice, yoga in the UK is easier for some people to access than others. It is increasingly being linked to NHS social prescribing, where people may be connected with health-promoting, non-clinical activities delivered by community and voluntary services. Yet what is available, accessible or affordable can differ from place to place. My research suggests that some of the people who could benefit most from yoga face barriers to taking part.
Available evidence suggests that yoga participation in the UK is strongly skewed towards a narrow demographic. Respondents to a 2020 survey of UK yoga students and teachers were 91% white, 71% university educated and 87% female. These figures sit uneasily beside yoga’s reputation as open to all.
Many of the people least represented in yoga also experience poorer health outcomes and face health inequalities: avoidable and unfair differences in health between different groups of people. If yoga is being used as part of public health and wellbeing services, we need to ask who can realistically afford it, reach it and feel welcome once they arrive.
Mind and body
Yoga is a mind-body activity with roots in ancient south Asia. It can include breathing exercises (pranayama), philosophy, mindfulness, meditation and movement. Research suggests that it may help some people manage aspects of physical and mental health, including chronic lower-back pain, stress, symptoms of anxiety or depression, and quality of life and fatigue among some cancer survivors. The strength of the evidence is variable and covers a wide range of conditions, but yoga is widely understood to support health.
I am a researcher and yoga teacher with a focus on inclusion and marginalised groups. I teach yoga in northern city neighbourhoods with high levels of deprivation. These subsidised classes are more diverse than many other yoga spaces, and I wanted to find out why yoga is so often lacking in diversity.
In my forthcoming book, The Diversity Gap in UK Yoga: Outsider Perspectives, I examined the yoga access experiences of people from a range of backgrounds under-represented in yoga, including those on low incomes, disabled people, people with a high body-mass index and minority ethnic groups.
When analysing the interviews, I looked not only at the barriers people described directly, but also at underlying issues of power and inequality that shaped how bodies, backgrounds and needs were viewed in yoga spaces. This helped me identify cultural barriers that might otherwise be overlooked.
Identifying barriers
Some of the barriers I found were practical. Classes could be difficult to attend because of where and when they were held, how easy they were to reach, how much they cost and whether people were expected to buy particular clothing or equipment.
Other barriers were linked to how people imagined yoga before they tried it. Some worried that yoga would be too physically demanding, or not active enough. Some thought it might be “uncool”. Others felt that yoga was only for people who were slim, flexible, athletic or already confident in exercise spaces.
Some were also put off by elements that felt unfamiliar or alien, such as chanting, especially when these were not clearly explained.
Other barriers were cultural: they related to yoga spaces and the assumptions within them. Some participants felt excluded by the tendency for people within yoga to overlook access barriers, or to assume they could be overcome through luck, confidence, persistence or the right attitude, rather than recognising that the barriers themselves needed addressing.
Representation also affected whether people felt they belonged. Not seeing anyone like themselves could be alienating for some people.
For some people from south Asian national or faith backgrounds, it was also alienating when yoga’s south Asian origins were ignored, simplified or used in ways they felt were inappropriate. A strong belief that yoga is inherently welcoming could also make it harder to raise concerns. If criticism is discouraged, access problems are less likely to be acknowledged or addressed.
My research helps explain why yoga in the UK is often so white and middle class, and why this has consequences when yoga is used to support health and wellbeing. It found that people with marginalised identities experienced practical, perceptual and cultural barriers when they tried to get involved in yoga. Many of these groups already face poorer health outcomes and greater barriers to care.
These findings offer yoga teachers, studios and community providers an opportunity to examine their practices and make yoga more accessible to people who have too often been excluded.
