If I wasn't already deeply involved in yoga, and I only knew about this ancient self-help practice from Instagram I would be appalled. The IG yoga world is mostly repulsive and not very 'punk rock' or rebellious -- my aesthetics of choice. On IG instead we see hordes of bendy clones, twisting their, often half-naked slender bodies into acrobatic, and not rarely, erotic shapes. On beaches. In the glow of sunsets. Underneath fat palm tree. Captured by vaseline soft porn lenses.
You know how studies show that it's homophobes that get most aroused when made to watch gay porn? It's surely the same way with men who make fun of yoga dudes for wearing leggings, or who think 'yoga is for girls/sissies/bitches.' It's just got to be men who are uncomfortable in their own skin. With their sexuality. With their so called masculinity. And 'mainstream masculinity' -- the kind we still see in movies, in advertising, on the streets, could definitely use a make-ove
There has been many times in my life when I wished that I was a dude. There has been even more times I wished that I was gay. That I would fall in love with women. Unfortunately I seem to be the most heterosexual person in the universe. I've had to be afraid of men my whole life. In high school I was afraid walking past certain male species in the corridors while wearing my goth getup and black lipstick. Would I catch nasty comments or not? Would I be called ugly witch whore
I had just turned twenty when I went to India the first time. I didn't go to practice yoga, hell, I barely knew what it was. I thought a yogi was a guy who could hold his breath under water for a long time, and sleep comfortably on a bed of nails. Turns out I wasn't entirely wrong, but not entirely right either. I went to India because I didn't have anything better to do at the time. I tagged along with a friend who had planned the trip for a year. But I also hoped to take ps