This weekend I was privileged to participate in an Aquarian Teacher Level One Teacher Training in Kundalini Yoga as taught by Yogi Bhajan® course. Most of the students are women from all walks of life and every age group. Most, however, are professionals in their 30s; so these aren’t young girls trying to find their way in life. Rather, they are mature, spiritual women looking for a way to deepen their own practice and relationship to the Self and the Soul. Invariably, the lifestyle teachings of Yogi Bhajan come up and confront many of our long-held ideas of what it means to be a feminist and a woman in contemporary culture. How we dress as women is often one of the sticking points. Are we responsible for the reactions of men? If yes, why? And what are the ramifications for that responsibility? How deeply does it go? We certainly don’t need more “blame the victim” rhetoric; nor do we need to abdicate our power as women. What’s the happy medium–if there is one?
In our discussion of dress, the muslim naqib came up. (There’s a great article today on the rise of the naqib in the West, behind the veil, and what it means culturally.) In cultures where women are repressed out of fear or sublimation or simply pure rage, the notion of a woman being responsible for the reactions of men is abhorrant to us in the West because, in these extremes, even the show of the ankle is cause for stumbling. This is of course an untenable idea. The other extreme is found here in the West through the blatant use of our sexuality to manipulate or get what we want–whether conciously or unconsciously.
The path of the yogi is far from these extremes; it is the path of radiance. I do not hide my femininity, my power, my sexuality, nor do I use it. Instead, I embody the Grace of God, I embody the radiance of the soul, I embody the light of truth. The path of the yogi is one of absolute responsibility: 80% of all communication is through the body; yet as modern women, we are reticent to take responsibility for the way we dress as a form of communication. This is where feminism has unfortunately abdicated a woman’s power rather than taken steps to reclaim it.
Our reaction to the notion that how we dress communicates something specific in the psyche of the male is often absolute protestation: “No way will I accept responsibility for how a man chooses to see me or react to me!” This was once my reaction, too. But how can we not? It’s not about their reaction in so much as it’s about taking responsibility for ourselves and our own experience. As women, we often blame men for their gross obsessions with our sexuality; yet in the face of that very real experience for women–being stared at, being groped in public places, or worse being followed or attacked in some way–we resist taking responsibility for our experience by being so radiant, so expansive, so powerful, so graceful, that no man would dare be inappropriate toward us.
This isn’t to say that bad things won’t continue to happen to women–through no fault of their own. Instead, it is a challenge to recognize the power we have as women–and to own it.
Meditate on this reality as a woman: I am bountiful, blissful and beautiful, I am. And walk in the world as the graceful, radiant, queen that you are. See if you don’t experience yourself and the world just a little bit differently.
