Speaking Truth in Spaces That Don't Always Listen

There are moments in life when we come face-to-face with a truth we'd rather not acknowledge, moments when remaining silent feels safer than speaking up. Recently, I experienced this in a yoga space- one that usually is about inclusivity, healing, and support. Two women engaged in a conversation that involved guessing my ethnicity. I've grown used to this, though it never feels good. I brushed it off, but the conversation escalated when one of them shared that she discovered she's "2% African" through a DNA test, and how that felt validating because she's always felt "more than just white." A week later, she made a point to bring it up again. She explained how she isn't sure what kind of trauma could be packed away in her newly found ancestry. As a person of color, I've learned how to tiptoe around such comments, aware that speaking my truth could make people uncomfortable, offend them, or be dismissed. But a part of me kept coming back to this moment- the harm caused by these seemingly innocent statements, the weight of feeling erased in a space that should be safe for all. In yoga, we have a guiding principle called ahimsa, which means non-harm and compassion for all living creatures. But ahimsa doesn't just mean being gentle or staying quiet- it means disrupting harm whenever and wherever we find it. Staying silent is not ahimsa. Yoga isn't just about personal care; it's about standing up for change, creating space for everyone to step into their power, and confronting systems that perpetuate harm. When someone claims they understand the trauma of black and brown people based on a 2% DNA result, they are upholding a system that diminishes the lived realities of marginalized people. It's a kind of ignorance that reinforces white supremacy, even when unintentional. Her words made the space unsafe, and even though I eventually tried to speak up, I wasn't heard. She made it about herself, and I was left sitting with the truth she still refused to acknowledge. This is the problem: white people often get to walk away from these moments, while the rest of us are left holding the weight of it all. I see her back to her normal social media posting, projecting love & light, while the discomfort and harm she left behind remain unaddressed. We are all beings of light, but true light requires accountability. A true yoga practice is supposed to teach us that it is not always about being comfortable. It's about making space for the truth, even when it challenges the narratives we prefer to hold onto.