WRITER | PRODUCER | DIGITAL STRATEGIST
I’m not here to do a hot take on The Handmaiden’s Tale—there are so many other better researched and argued essays you could be reading if you wanted that—I’m here to talk about how surprised I was at the sexual imagery that some of the passages evoked.
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The first time I set foot in a yoga studio I regretted it immediately. It was 6 a.m. on a weekday (already a bad idea) in Santa Monica (oof), and I was about to begin my first hot yoga class (double oof). The room was filled with lithe white girls wearing Lululemon, and there I was, in Target athleisure, with a Pilates mat to boot. The feeling was nothing new, I’m used to being the only brown girl in white spaces. It usually doesn’t bother me, but I was already feeling insecure and out of place, and the white gaze only heightened those feelings. I don’t think this yoga thing is going to be for me, I thought.
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