body talk: brown girl & pilates edition
on self-preservation and journeying back to my body
I’ve made it through one year of doing pilates and realized this isn’t only for white women. I started my journey through community and donation based classes locally and was fortunate enough to find an accessible and body positive studio in Los Angeles with manageable rates. Apart from finding pilates to be affordable in my city, I must add that my rage and grief were the real reasons I came to the altar of the reformer. Last year, after coming out of an intensive caregiving period for my terminally ill father, to then losing him, to later quitting an ableist corporate job unable to accomodate my grief, and still finding myself in need of healing from a former failed engagement with a narcissist, I lost control and all sense of self. I felt defeated and my body —foreign, unfamiliar, worn, and tired. It wasn’t until I began grounding my breathing in pilates through every stretch, feet in straps, bicep curl, and hip bridge that I found out how truly in tune I could be with my body once again and more profoundly after this prolonged two year period of survival.
My decision to take up this new physical activity reminded me of Audre Lorde’s words in A Burst of Light and Other Essays,
“caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
I was losing myself and tried a pilates class in March 2023 to get a hold of who the hell I was —post death and destruction. I did it for self-preservation, not simply to “look good” —whatever this means in light of Eurocentric beauty standards, the male gaze, and fatphobia running rampant in our society and the wellness/beauty industry. On the reformer, I discovered that I began to trust myself more and listen to my limitations. I found and embraced my areas of weakness that ached to be seen and heard. For once I did not push myself further than my capacity —something new for a brown girl like me who grew accustomed to running on fumes both at work and while caring for my terminally ill father with family amidst a dehumanizing, neglectful, and capitalist healthcare system.
Every breath in class brought me back to myself.