Call It What It Is. Honor What It’s Not.

A yoga teacher’s reflection on naming formats, honoring lineage, and teaching with integrity.

Naming yoga isn’t just branding—it’s lineage. It defines, invites, and sets the tone for everything that follows.
And when it comes to yoga, naming holds even more weight—because we’re not just naming a product or a trend.

We’re working within a lineage. We’re offering something with roots, with depth, and with spiritual and cultural implications.

So here’s the dilemma:
As a yoga teacher and creator, how do you define what you offer without reinventing the wheel?
How do you make yoga accessible and inviting without appropriating or diluting it?
How do you describe the flavor of a class without misleading the people who step onto the mat?

These aren’t rhetorical questions. They’re daily ones.

Naming My Formats Felt Risky

When I first started naming and sharing my formats, I felt so uncertain. I wasn’t sure how people would receive them—especially other teachers and mentors I respected.

Would they think I was trying to “invent” something? That I was just chasing trends?

Honestly, it felt vulnerable to post them online—not because I didn’t believe in what I was offering—but because I didn’t want to be misunderstood.

The truth? I was trying to give students clarity, to communicate the energy and experience of a class—not claim a new style. But naming yoga in public felt like stepping into a spotlight I wasn’t sure I wanted. There’s a lot of pressure to package your offerings—to make them “marketable” or “branded”—but I was just trying to be transparent. And I’ve learned: that’s a risk worth taking, as long as it’s done with integrity.

Creating Formats, Not Styles

Let’s be honest: nothing I teach is “new.” I draw from the same rich traditions that have guided countless teachers before me. But I’ve developed formats—structured experiences that offer consistency, intentionality, and a sense of flavor.

To me, a format is like a flavor—it shapes the experience, offering a particular tone or energy.
Just as a flavor sets your expectations before the first bite, a yoga format offers a taste of what’s to come—whether grounding, energizing, restorative, or challenging.

Think about ordering wings: mild, medium, hot, or spicy. That choice doesn’t reflect your skill or toughness—it reflects the kind of experience you’re seeking. In the same way, choosing a yoga format isn’t about ability or hierarchy—it’s about how you want to feel during and after the practice.  I’m reminded of what Bryan Kest, creator of Power Yoga, said: “It’s not about the ability of the student, it’s about the effect of the practice.” [1]

And that’s where naming gets tricky. Take Power Yoga, for example. Kest didn’t intend to make yoga exclusive or intimidating—he was naming the experience, not the level.  But over time, 'power' became associated with strength and athleticism—not inner strength or empowerment. That’s the naming dilemma in action: a single word can invite curiosity or create barriers.  It can reflect the flavor of a class—or unintentionally misrepresent the depth of the practice.

When Naming Crosses a Line

Naming becomes more complicated when it enters the realm of novelty. Consider:
• Acroyoga – partner balance and acrobatics mixed with yoga [2]
• Aerial Yoga – yoga in silk hammocks, blending dance and Pilates [3]
• Beer Yoga – combining yoga with beer, often practiced in breweries [4]
• Goat Yoga – practicing yoga with goats climbing on participants [5]
• Buti Yoga – yoga blended with tribal dance and plyometrics [6]

These offerings may be fun or even helpful as entry points, but they raise a critical question:

Are we evolving yoga—or just exploiting its name to sell an experience?

Some formats serve as gateways. Others become gimmicks. And when lineage is erased, the name becomes a tool for selling, not teaching.

Let’s get real: not everything needs to be called yoga.

Here’s my take: I don’t offer goat yoga. I don’t teach yoga to wine glasses or pop stars.  Not because I think it’s inherently wrong—but because it doesn’t resonate with my purpose. For me, those experiences feel like a distraction from the depth of the practice, not a doorway into it.  I believe in innovation—but I also believe in discernment.  If what we’re offering doesn’t connect to yoga’s roots—its philosophies, its breath, its purpose—then we have to ask:

 Are we evolving the practice or exploiting the name?

There’s a big difference between using yoga to help people access themselves more deeply—and using it as a trendy label to sell something that’s not yoga at all.  That’s where naming crosses a line. That’s when we stop teaching—and start selling.

And no, this isn’t about judgment.  If genre-themed classes or goat-on-your-back asanas bring someone joy or serve as their entry point into mindful movement—great. But let’s call it what it is.

Because when everything becomes “yoga,” nothing really is.

If we’re going to use the word yoga, let it mean something.

Does Everything Need to Be Called Yoga?

During the pandemic, teacher Davina Davidson, founder of the Melanin Yoga Project, made a thoughtful and personal shift: she stopped using the word “yoga” in her public offerings. Her reasons were twofold—she was increasingly uncomfortable with the Western commodification of yoga, and she also made the decision based on her Christian faith and personal spiritual alignment. [7]

Not because she stopped practicing or teaching the tools of yoga—but because the term no longer fully reflected the intention and integrity of what she was offering.

Her decision brings up an important point:
We don’t always have to call it yoga.

Sometimes, what we’re offering—whether it’s sound healing, mobility drills, or meditative movement—is inspired by yoga, but not rooted in the eight limbs or traditional philosophy. And that’s okay.

But if we use the name “yoga,” we carry responsibility. That name comes with weight, history, and meaning—especially as yoga originates from South Asia and is rooted in spiritual and philosophical traditions. [8][9]

Naming something “yoga” means honoring its depth—not just using it as a trend.

What I Believe

We don’t need to water yoga down to meet people.
We need to name it clearly, offer invitations, and hold space for people to evolve.

Naming yoga formats isn’t about control or ego—it’s about communication. It’s about saying:
“This is what to expect. This is how we’ll move. This is how you might feel.”

If the flavor fits, call it what it is. But if it’s something else entirely, let’s be bold enough to name that too.

This Is Why I Teach The Business & Ethics of Yoga

Yoga teachers today are doing more than guiding movement—we’re navigating naming, marketing, cultural awareness, and personal integrity.

And there’s no roadmap for that.

That’s why I created The Business & Ethics of Yoga—a workshop for teachers and wellness professionals who want to:
• Name and share their offerings with clarity and respect
• Navigate cultural appropriation, power, and inclusion
• Build a business rooted in authenticity, not aesthetics

If you’ve ever wrestled with how to present your offerings—without losing the soul of the practice—this is for you.

Let’s move beyond the buzzwords—and build something real.

Sources

1. Bryan Kest. Power Yoga Philosophy. https://www.poweryoga.com/philosophy/

2. Acroyoga. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acroyoga

3. Aerial Yoga. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aerial_yoga

4. Beer Yoga. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beer_yoga

5. Goat Yoga Origins. https://goatyoga.com/origins-of-goat-yoga

6. Buti Yoga. https://butiyoga.com/

7. Davina Davidson. Omstars. https://omstars.com/hosts/davina-davidson

8. Singleton, Mark. Yoga Body: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice. Oxford University Press, 2010.

9. Barkataki, Susanna. Embrace Yoga’s Roots: Courageous Ways to Deepen Your Yoga Practice. Ignite Press, 2020.