Yoga in Prisons & The Ripple Effect

13 Jun

I used to teach yoga in prison. It was to groups of 20 men at a time. In prisons here in NZ, there are units of incarcerated people that range in size, so each group of 20 men would all come from the same unit. If I remember correctly, the units I taught in had around 120 people.

I was (and still am) a board member with the Yoga Education in Prisons Trust (YEPT), and had plenty of experience with trauma skilled approaches as well as the best method of delivery for me & my context. So before going in, I was well prepped with what to expect, and yet I was still surprised every time I went.

Our goal with YEPT is to deliver yoga education opportunities to all 8, 294 people in prison in Aotearoa. Our programs support healing, rehabilitation and a ripple effect of benefits for the whānau & community the men and women go back to when they are released.

We have three main channels through which we deliver our education. We have a nationwide Correspondence Course Program, a video series of yoga classes delivered twice daily through the national prison TV system, and an affiliation program with experienced yoga teachers around NZ who deliver in person sessions in prisons where possible.

The drive to the prison was long, which gave me time to practice my breathing, my embodiment, and to give myself a pep talk to build my courage, all while surrounded by the beautiful South Otago scenery.

In the beginning, I felt like the guards welcomed me with an air of suspicion. I was an unfamiliar presence, and they didn’t quite know how to place me. But over time, we connected, and they started saving their body-based questions for my arrival.

I was teaching in the gym and quickly made friends with the officer who worked there. He had many amazing stories of relationship building and breakthroughs with exercise. He was super curious to see what yoga could do, and we would chat heartily until the men arrived when he would sit quietly witnessing the sessions.

And that’s where my surprises began. Probably because I think I had imagined hardened men, who would be resistant to the idea of yoga, but what I got was quite different (and quite moving).

The first surprise was the level of respect and attentiveness from the men. They showed up ready to learn, open to the experience, and eager to engage. For many, this was a rare opportunity for some peace and reflection, a break from the harsh realities of prison life. They listened intently as I guided them through the asana and breathing exercises. The focus and commitment they offered was impressive, with the exception of a few who were mostly on the younger side. As time went on, it was clear that they were realising for themselves that yoga was more than just a physical practice; it was becoming their stability and their sanctuary, in an environment that often lacked both.

He mango wai koia kia kore e whītikia

It is a big river indeed that cannot be crossed

A happy surprise was the transformation I witnessed over time. Initially, some men were hesitant and stiff, both physically and mentally. But as weeks went by, their bodies became more flexible, and their minds more open. I heard less and less “I can’t do that” which prevented them from trying, and more and more “wow, that was cool” after they could do something they didn’t think they could.

They started practicing in their cells on other days and some would share the personal growth they were experiencing through their practice. One man told me how it was helping him stay on top of his anger and find a sense of peace he had never known. Another shared that the breathing techniques helped him sleep better and reduced his anxiety. And another said he’d had a breakthrough and was now practicing to pause before reacting to challenges. I loved hearing their stories of the sometimes simple and sometimes profound impact that yoga was having for them. It was working!

“I am learning that all my choices have consequences and in the end it is not what happens to me but how I react to it that matters”

- YEPT Correspondence Course Ākonga

The interactions with the prison staff also evolved in unexpected ways. Initially, the guards seemed unsure of how yoga would fit into the prison environment. But as they observed the positive changes in the inmates, their skepticism turned into support. Most of the guards asked me about yoga for themselves. They began to see yoga as a valuable tool for rehabilitation, not just for the men but potentially for themselves. After my first year I had guards regularly approaching me telling me stories of how the men were changing.

The peak for me was hearing from guards that even though I was just teaching 20 men in each unit, they were noticing changes not just in those 20 men, but in the whole unit! Morale was up, everyone was calmer and there was less agitation and fighting all around - yesssss! The ripple effect!

Another memorable experiences was a yoga session where we focused on gratitude. I asked the men to think of something they were thankful for, despite their circumstances. At first, there was silence, but slowly, they began to share. One man was grateful for the letters he received from his daughter, another for the support of his friends in the unit during a tough time. The moments of shared vulnerability and gratitude were special. They showed that even in the darkest places, light can be found.

Their commitment inspired me. So I kept mine and kept teaching my weekly sessions there through thick and thin, even when it was so icy I had to drive at 30km, even when I didn’t feel like it, and eventually even when I became pregnant - right up until my baby was nearly due.

I still am a part of this amazing trust as a board member, but since having my baby (she’s now 6!) and then covid shutting down some operational possibilities, I haven’t taught inside.

But my gratitude for this experience is still with me. Through teaching yoga in prison, I had reinforced that it’s not just about the poses or the breathing, but about the meaning of yoga, union. It’s about connection, and not just connection to some but to all. Working in groups is always about that, but when working with underserved populations, who generally don’t have access to yoga, it becomes more noticeable.

Looking back, I just feel gratitude. This experience challenged my assumptions and expanded my perspective. It was a reminder that everyone, regardless of their past or present circumstances, deserves a chance to heal, grow, and find peace within themselves. And that a healed person, then heals people. The men I taught showed me that change is very possible, that hope can be found in the most unlikely places, and that the practice of yoga can be a powerful catalyst for personal transformation.

Jasmin Amrita