23/09/2026
FREE YOGA — BUT WHO REALLY PAYS THE PRICE?
My previous article about the explosion of free yoga received an extraordinary response.
Clearly, this is something many people within the yoga community have been thinking about.
But the free-yoga phenomenon hasn't stopped.
If anything, it seems to be accelerating.
So perhaps it's time to take the conversation one step further.
This isn't only about money anymore.
It is about the future of professional yoga teaching.
It is about small yoga studios trying to survive.
And, importantly, it is about the responsibility we have towards the people who attend these classes.
Let's be very clear:
I am not against free yoga.
I have offered free yoga myself.
I have offered free classes to people who genuinely cannot afford them. I've offered introductory classes to allow people to experience yoga before committing to a membership.
There is a beautiful and compassionate place for that.
But there is a very big difference between making yoga accessible and turning yoga into something that is endlessly given away as a marketing attraction.
And when free classes appear week after week, month after month, year after year, we have to ask ourselves what we are creating.
What does “free” really mean?
A professional yoga teacher doesn't simply arrive, roll out a mat and teach for an hour.
There is training.
There is anatomy and physiology.
There is sequencing.
There is teaching methodology.
There is preparation.
There is experience.
There is continuing education.
There is learning how to observe students and modify practices appropriately.
There is understanding when a student should not be doing something.
Professional training programs themselves recognize these areas as fundamental components of competent yoga teaching.
And professional teaching carries responsibility.
Yoga teaching standards and professional codes of conduct emphasize appropriate training, ethical conduct and consideration of student safety and the environment in which yoga is taught.
That becomes particularly relevant when yoga moves out of a properly prepared studio environment.
Yoga is more than putting down a mat and following a few postures
A professional yoga class doesn't simply mean arriving somewhere, putting down a mat and moving through a handful of postures for 30 or 40 minutes.
Now, let's be fair: a 30-minute or 40-minute yoga class is not inherently bad.
There are wonderful shorter practices, meditation sessions and specialized classes.
The duration isn't the issue.
The structure and responsibility are.
A properly planned class considers who is in front of the teacher, what the intention of the practice is, how the body is going to be prepared, how postures are introduced and progressed, what modifications may be required, and how the practice is brought to an appropriate conclusion.
There is preparation.
There is progression.
There is sequencing.
There is observation.
There are modifications.
There is guidance.
And there is an understanding that the person standing on the mat may have an injury, limitation, medical consideration, a completely different level of experience , or simply no idea what they are doing.
A quick 30–40 minute promotional session that moves people through a selection of postures without adequate preparation, individual guidance or consideration of the environment is not necessarily equivalent to a professionally structured yoga class.
And that distinction matters.
Because yoga is physical.
People can strain themselves. They can lose balance. They can push beyond their ability. They can misunderstand an instruction.
And when you take that class outdoors, additional considerations come into play.
Uneven grass.
Slopes.
Hidden holes.
Roots.
Stones.
Wet or slippery surfaces.
A yoga mat doesn't remove those hazards.
A balancing posture performed on a level studio floor is one thing. Performing it on an uneven outdoor surface is another.
This doesn't mean outdoor yoga is inherently dangerous. Far from it. Outdoor yoga can be beautiful and perfectly appropriate when the environment is assessed and the practice is planned accordingly.
But the responsibility remains with the teacher.
That is what professional training and professional teaching are ultimately about.
You're not simply demonstrating postures.
You are taking responsibility for the people who have trusted you enough to follow your instruction.
And that is precisely why professional yoga teaching has value.
And then there is the elephant in the room — the professional teacher.
Imagine spending thousands of rands on your training.
Then thousands more on additional courses, workshops and continuing education.
Imagine opening a studio.
Paying rent.
Electricity.
Insurance.
Equipment.
Marketing.
Accounting.
Cleaning.
Maintenance.
And trying to build a community and a sustainable business.
Then imagine watching people become accustomed to receiving yoga for free.
Not occasionally.
Not as genuine community outreach.
But constantly.
And then being expected to compete with it.
At what point does a professional yoga teacher become expected to explain why their class costs money?
Why should they have to justify earning a living?
We don't expect the local physiotherapist to work for free because someone else has decided physiotherapy should be accessible.
We don't expect a personal trainer to provide unlimited free sessions.
We don't expect a music teacher, massage therapist or accountant to repeatedly give away their professional time.
So why have we decided that yoga teachers should?
And here's the uncomfortable part.
When free yoga becomes normal, the person who charges a professional fee can begin to look expensive.
But perhaps they're not expensive.
Perhaps free has simply distorted our perception of value.
And that has consequences.
It can make it harder for qualified teachers to earn a living.
It can make it harder for studios to survive.
It can discourage people from investing in proper training.
And ultimately, it risks creating a profession where experienced teachers simply cannot afford to remain in it.
That should concern every yoga practitioner.
Because one day, you may want an experienced teacher who understands your body, your limitations, your injuries, your level of practice and how to safely guide you.
That expertise didn't come for free.
So I'm not calling for the end of free yoga.
I'm calling for responsible yoga.
Free when there is a genuine reason.
Community outreach.
Charitable initiatives.
Introductory classes.
Helping people who genuinely cannot afford to participate.
Absolutely.
But perhaps we should think twice before turning yoga into something that is permanently attached to every promotion, every event and every “buy this and get a free yoga class” offer.
Because yoga is not a commodity to be thrown in for free with your coffee.
And the person teaching it is not disposable.
There is a human being behind that class who has invested years of their life learning how to teach.
They deserve to earn a living.
Their students deserve competent instruction.
And this beautiful practice deserves to be treated with respect.
Free yoga has its place.
But when everything becomes free, eventually somebody pays the price.
The teacher.
The studio.
The profession.
And potentially, the student.
Maybe it's time we stopped asking:
“Where can I get free yoga?”
And started asking:
“Who is teaching me, what have they invested in learning, and are they giving me the quality and safety I deserve?”
Because when it comes to yoga, free shouldn't automatically mean good.
And professional shouldn't automatically mean expensive.
It should mean valued.
🙏 Namaste
