Class or cult?
An anthropological experiment: 6 weeks of the Class by Taryn Toomey.
It’s women’s history month! (And every month at The Find, my weekly newsletter for good troublemakers.)
This month especially, you’ll hear about “women supporting women”; I invite you to take a closer look at who is saying this, and how they’re doing it. Because things aren’t always what they seem to be.
I am obsessed with watching cult documentaries. It all started with Wild Wild Country; I had never seen a documentary so beautifully realized and juicily detailed. Not only did it start an obsession, it brought an awareness of all these “right-hand” women to cult leaders. Without saying too much, in case you haven’t watched it, the “right-hand” woman in Wild Wild Country is the most intriguing person I’ve seen in a documentary, or even fictional movie, maybe ever. Though not the figurehead of the cult, she was the grease to the wheels. She was the one who got shit done. And she had absolutely no remorse or regret. So interesting!
And most recently The Vow, the documentary about the NXIVM cult. Yes, Keith Raniere is the “Vanguard,” the cult’s despicable leader, torturer, and manipulator. But he was aided and abetted by a woman, Nancy Salzman. I am hoping the next season of The Vow exposes her more, because she was largely absent from the first season; how could a woman help such a monster?
All this to say, these documentaries got me thinking; what makes a cult leader? Why aren’t there more cults led by women? Which led me to a duh moment: of course there are. They’re everywhere. The cult of fitness.
Women are venerated in our culture for being thin, fit, white. The female form is acceptable, only when it is lithe, flexible, and has alabaster skin.
From the rise (and subsequent fall) of SoulCycle, founded by two women who perpetuated a toxic work environment; to Jillian Michaels, the once-popular and now demonized bootcamp fitness leader, our society is intoxicated with women — but only if they are the epitome of society-approved physical fitness. When the movement they advocate is movement, what could possibly be wrong? A lot.
This is where the Class comes in. Pair working out with spirituality-lite, New Agey aphorisms and dance-trance music, the Class seems like a harmless, hippie-ish, Goopy option to get a toned body. And, I will argue, it is also a cult.
Are people being harmed? Not like in NXIVM, thank god, but image and perception matters. Language matters. Representation matters. These actions, or lack of actions, are not on the same plane as branding skin, not by a long shot, but they do cause harm. And psychological harm can be as bad, if not worse, than physical harm.
I’d read about the Class before in magazines, a mysterious fitness class beloved by celebrities and actresses. When I read that a New Yorker staff writer I admire had named the monthly subscription to the Class as her best under-$50 purchase in 2020, I was intrigued. So I signed up for a 14-day free trial.
What began as a 14-day experiment, an anthropological exploration, quickly turned into a one-month subscription ($40/month). I didn’t drink the KoolAid or anything, but I definitely didn’t rush to cancel my subscription before the free trial expired (even though I had a calendar reminder called “Cancel Class” set in my phone). Though I don’t want to support companies that glamorize thinness and whiteness, as I told my wife: “To give a thorough critique of something, you need to really get in deep.” Or something like that.
At first, I didn’t want to do the videos for two weeks and deem myself an expert on their methodology. I’m not an expert on ANYTHING. But I am now someone who experienced six weeks of the Class, and I am convinced that if I hadn’t got out when I did, I might still be doing it. Even though I can see past its dreamy exterior, I still found myself strangely hooked.
The Class is called “a cathartic workout for the body and mind” (from their website). They’ve recently added this to the description: “Enjoy a music-driven workout experience that borrows from yoga in its spirit, a rock concert in its energy, and bootcamp in its grit.” Wow. The website’s teacher roster shows 21 teachers, all women, 3 of whom are, from what I can deduce, WOC. (It’s hard to tell for sure, as the photos are so whitewashed. Interesting, huh?)
Of course the Class is a mirror of its founder, Taryn Toomey, a (very) thin, white, blond woman. Most white-dominant “movements” are. But that doesn’t mean that each teacher is required to be a reflection of the founder, does it?
To find out more about the elusive founder of the Class, I watched an interview with Taryn Toomey and, who else, Gwyneth Paltrow, another paragon of thin white “wellness.” I wanted to know what her credentials were. I learned that TT, as Taryn Toomey calls herself, started the class 8 years ago, as a practice to help herself. Previously an “executive for Ralph Lauren and Dior, [TT] founded The Class in 2013, after training to become a yoga teacher and studying with a shamanic healer.” (From the W Magazine article, “How The Class Became an Essential Pandemic Workout.”)
TT claims she came up with the oft-touted-as-revolutionary practice by “Trying to teach myself how to process.” She says that she, and others, can teach the Class “by doing the class.” Huh.
She also said something that I still quite can’t make sense of, about how the Class shakes up our inherent human resistance to… I’m not sure?: “…resistance of the actual embodiment of the purpose of your blueprint which is in your physical body.” Wha???
The exterior difference between the Class and just doing a HIIT workout or a barre class, is the vague aphorisms and questionable music. I’m all about the woo-woo — your girl loves a crystal, no shame in my game — but this is next-level. The teachers say things like, “How easy is it for you to forsake yourself when you need you the most?”
This one was especially culty: “Just because it’s different doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.” This is some dangerous language, the kind used by manipulators the world over to justify all kinds of wrongs. I like to think of myself as a free-thinker, questioning everything. But why would this kind of statement come up in a workout class?
Full disclosure, there was something intoxicating about the experience, which of course is how it’s designed to be. It all feels so aspirational; the lighting, the earth tones, the music, the toned bodies, the spirituality-lite language. It’s intended to intoxicate you, the viewer, to subscribe to this fictional world where breathing loudly and jumping around is “cleansing” and “clearing,” a revolutionary act. Where leotards and smudge bundles are going to change the world. That is what the Class thinks it is doing: “The Class aims to restore balance to the world one individual, one community at a time” (from the website).
The snake oil is combined with truth, which is especially hard to disentangle. What is truth and what is fiction? Moving around is good for us. Letting shit go is great, but how do we do that? Just by doing burpees with an oatmeal-leotard-clad white lady? We know that isn’t true.
What I could ascertain as the general theme of the Class, both from the interview and by participating in the Class, is that the Class (supposedly) helps participants with self-actualization, letting go of toxic emotions, getting unstuck, and releasing old habits. How? By shaking the body and making noise. Those are the hallmarks of the Class. Other than that, it’s pretty much just an extended HIIT workout — burpees, jumping jacks.
How is this workout — making sounds, shaking the body — revolutionary? Because a white woman is doing it? (I will admit, I did feel uncomfortable making sounds during the workout, which was interesting to discover. Why did I feel silly making noise? Could it be attributed to my societal conditioning, as a woman, to be quiet? Or could it just be that what I was doing was actually silly?)
Or maybe perhaps because the intention doesn’t match up with the method? Exercise is good for the body and the soul, we all know that, but shouldn’t “releasing toxic emotions” be a work that is fully realized beyond the mat? The Class isn’t a substitute for say, therapy, though TT and the Class like to say: “The answer is within you.” The website says that “The result [after doing the Class] is a mental clearing and emotional release. Through continued practice students develop tools to empower their life, along with an incredibly strong, resilient, body.” Couldn’t this impact someone negatively? (See: the rise of the Self-healers.) Coupled with TT saying that she’s creating a safe container for people to process; how is it safe?
Not to mention, TT herself does not look safe. She looks like a tan Portia de Rossi, dressed like a post-apocalyptic Barbie: muted earth tone leotards, leg-warmers, and beige combat boots. Who works out in combat boots? There is something disarming about the way she speaks, vaguely spiritual and down-to-earth at the same time, but looking at her does not make me feel safe. She is SO THIN. I’m scared her arm is going to snap off!
Though many of the teachers are not as thin as TT, they all seem to be similar in age, race, even facial features. Blandly beautiful. Earth tones or black seem to be the uniform requirements to lull women into an idealized sense of aspiration.
Not only do most of the women look the same — they sound the same. It’s strange. I noticed it after my very first class. Not that they all sounded the same, but that the first teacher sounded affected. Her tone and way of speaking didn’t seem natural or authentic to me.
Then, I heard it again in the next class. Oh, to be a fly on the wall at the Class Teacher Training! Is it part of the curriculum to learn how to speak in a nasally, breathy monotone?
At first I assumed everyone wanted to sound like TT, but her voice, though breathy and monotone, was different. Then I took a class with Jaycee Gossett, the cofounder and VP of Experience, and it all clicked. Everyone sounded like her!
I wonder how much of Gossett’s influence has shepherded the Class into its new era, an era that was timed perfectly for the pandemic. Now everyone can do the Class from home, not to mention create a fully realized, cocooned, light-washed existence!
Because the Class is more than an exercise class; the company offers a cleanse, a gift guide, jewelry, apparel, crystals, smudge bundles, a podcast — it’s now a lifestyle brand. It’s like Goop + working out. It’s white-lady spirituality. Remember our talk about cultural appropriation? The Class attempts to bypass their appropriation of cultures’ sacred rituals by saying: “The Class honors the sacredness of Palo Santo and sage and respects the origins and traditions in which they are rooted. Our Palo Santo and Sage are sustainably and ethically sourced from vendors we trust, harvested in a way that is both respectful to the environment and the spiritual properties of these medicinal plants.” But, they’re still using it, out of context, and they’re profiting off of it.
There’s been a shift in their optics since I first signed up for this experiment in December. Now, probably because of last month’s Black History Month, the e-newsletter and website have more images of Black women. But are these women teachers? Decision-makers within the company? I don’t think so. Because when I look at the website now, I still don’t see a change in the teacher roster.
Look, I’m all for women being entrepreneurs, taking control of their lives and their narratives, hustling, giving movement a platform. But not at the expense of other women. Not through empty statements and appropriated methods and accoutrements.
Look, no one is forcing anyone to take the Class, and they’re catering to a certain clientele — ostensibly young, rich, white. The Goopers. Women who can afford $40 subscriptions and are soothed by empty aphorisms and appropriated smudge sticks.
But I could argue that NXIVM catered to a similar ideal — young, rich white people who wanted to “make the world better” and could afford thousand-dollar “leadership trainings.”
And whether these offerings are “for us” or not isn’t the point. The point is that they’re poisoning an already poisoned subset of society into thinking that empty actions will lead to enlightenment. If you “release” toxicity and achieve a toned body, suddenly you’re clear, exempt from unpacking the greater forces behind this so-called toxicity. And have effectively bypassed why it exists. This is the luxury of privilege.
Enjoy these finds instead of the Class:
Action: Support the Black Girl Freedom Fund! What would the world look like if we invested in our Black girls and young women? This organization asks us this paramount question, and vows that they “will support work that advances the well being of Black girls and their families, including work that centers and advances the power of Black girls through organizing, asset mapping, capacity-building, legal advocacy, and narrative work that seeks to shift structural violence enacted against Black girls.” YES!
Follow: The Wellness Therapist. Shout-out to my bestie Fi for recommending this IG account to me! Though very similar in name to the toxic and damaging account The Holistic Psychologist (see Self-Healers), healthcare administrator Azi fights disinformation and is always “Watching QAnon, cults, & grifters” and alerting her following to the insidious ways these groups operate under cover of self-love and self-healing. It’s dangerous out there, and it’s comforting to have accounts that offer realness and support of/for/by WOC. Check out this post for a great example of what Azi stands for.
Listen: “Shine” by Cleo Sol. Though rain is on the way, and I welcome it, spring is in the air. This change in season always gets me feeling lighter; when I’m feeling whimsical like this I start listening to more reggae, more soul, more music that makes you feel like the sun is shining but there’s still a breeze to offer relief. AKA, the kind of weather you experience on the perfect day. We’re almost there, but in the meantime, “Shine” will give you the feeling.
Move: Try Arianna Elizabeth’s “15 Min FULL BODY Flow to START THE WEEK strong!” It definitely delivered, and I was thrilled to find that Arianna has LOTS of yoga videos of differing lengths. She’s bubbly, knows her stuff, and offers class-pairing recommendations! Who knew this was a thing? Like wine-pairing but instead for other yoga classes? I love it! Needless to say, I subscribed to her channel and encourage you to do so as well. Enjoy!
Watch: Pen15!!! The brainchild of Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle, this show is a GENIUS exploration of the ups and downs (mostly downs, let’s be real!) of middle school. Painfully realistic; watching this made me cringe, cry-laugh, and nod knowingly countless times. The extra-special genius of Pen15? Maya and Anna play their middle school selves, but they are the only adults playing middle schoolers. All the other kids are played by actual kids. Sound weird? It works! These two 30-something women completely embody 13-year-olds, from their mannerisms to their tone of voice. It’s truly uncanny that the viewer totally forgets that women are playing tweens!
Read: Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. An absolute classic! This book is hefty, but there’s so much goodness in it. It’s the kind of book you can dip back into at any time, and you’ll most likely find something that resonates. It took me the better part of a year to finish it, but each time I found my way back to it, I felt held by a wise, fierce, funny, no-nonsense aunt. Though I’ve been knocking self-healing, I am a diehard advocate for getting in touch with our inherent wisdom, our intuition, and this beautiful book helped reignite the fire I knew was somewhere inside of me. Why do the Class when you can read this book instead?! Don’t take my word for it:
“Women Who Run with the Wolves isn’t just another book. It is a gift of profound insight, wisdom, and love. An oracle from one who knows.” — Alice Walker
“I am grateful to Women Who Run with the Wolves and to Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés. The work shows the reader how glorious it is to be daring, to be caring, and to be women. Everyone who can read should read this book.” — Maya Angelou
Let’s get into good trouble! If you’d like to receive cultural commentary & recommendations highlighting WOC in your inbox every Friday, you can subscribe to The Find here.
