Guns, Healing Bowls, and Racial Bias
Music and movement as medicine—dancing away trauma, one breath, one beat at a time.
I went to the Sedona Yoga Festival for growth, connection, and healing. What I didn’t expect was a moment that brought trauma front and center—not as something to study, but something we were forced to witness, feel, and hold.
During the festival, a male support staff member who had made several women uncomfortable was asked to leave. Rather than de-escalating the situation with care, organizers called the police. Guns drawn, officers entered a sound bowl healing session and removed the man—right in front of a group of meditators with eyes closed in search of peace. Their sanctuary became a site of fear and confusion.
When the Real Healing Began
The next day, during a 20-Hour Trauma-Informed training Certification class with Reggie Hubbard, the room felt heavy. Reggie paused the agenda and created space to process the trauma people had experienced.
What followed was one of the most powerful experiences I’ve ever witnessed. People opened up, pain was shared, and truth began to surface.
One white woman recounted the moment police entered the sound session. She had been lying still, immersed in the healing vibrations. The music stopped. She opened her eyes to find armed officers standing over her. Tears rolled down her face as she recalled the man—lying next to her—looking up and pleading,
“Please don’t let them take me.”
He wasn’t disruptive. He wasn’t aggressive. He was peacefully participating. She was heartbroken—frozen in disbelief that the situation was handled this way.
Racism in Just a Few Days
The stories didn’t stop there. People of color in the room shared how, within just a few days of arriving in Sedona, they had already experienced discrimination. For many, the police presence at the festival—especially with guns drawn—was not just unsettling, it was deeply triggering. It brought up past trauma, fear, and the painful reality that even in a wellness space, safety is not guaranteed for everyone.
A African American woman ignored at registration while white attendees were helped
Denied entry to sessions, while white participants walked in freely—even when rooms weren’t full
Treated with suspicion, as if they didn’t belong
Passed over at restaurants while others were seated
Confronted in a parking lot for simply being in a car
Police flashing lights at a woman of color walking to class—for no visible reason
The deep isolation of being one of the few people of color in a predominantly white space
Feeling the need to visibly carry store receipts—not out of guilt, but out of protection from profiling
These weren’t isolated moments. They reflect the lived experience of people of color—even in wellness spaces that claim to be inclusive and healing.
We cannot call a space healing if it is not safe for everyone.
One Woman’s Story: Trauma From the Start
Another woman shared how racism shaped her life. She grew up in an all-white community. In second grade, her teacher—someone meant to nurture—called her the N-word. Other teachers followed with years of mistreatment, leaving her with a fear of white women that followed her into adulthood.
Coming to a predominantly white yoga retreat brought all that fear to the surface.
But she showed up anyway.
She’s brilliant, highly educated, and holds multiple degrees. In my coaching work, I’ve seen how trauma holds women back—not due to lack of talent, but because fear and pain drain their energy.
I looked at her and saw a powerhouse in her profession. But I also wondered—where would she be if she hadn’t had to carry the weight of racism?
Her courage in speaking out moved me deeply. Her story reminded me that so many others carry invisible pain simply because they don’t feel welcome in certain spaces—not for who they are, but because of the color of their skin.
You Have to Heal to Be a Better Healer
Reggie reminded us:
“You have to heal to be a better healer.”
Healing isn’t just personal—it’s collective. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. And it requires honesty about who’s being left out, and why.
That day, I witnessed what true trauma-informed care looks like. We held space. We listened. We cried. We danced. And in that vulnerability, something powerful began to unfold: collective healing.
Final Reflection
If the yoga and wellness world truly wants to be a space of transformation, it must do more than preach love and light. We have to face the realities of race, trauma, and exclusion—even when it’s uncomfortable.
The festival is largely volunteer-run, and I don’t believe harm was intended. But good intentions don’t erase impact. When harm occurs—especially in healing spaces—it must be acknowledged with humility and care. That’s exactly what Reggie Hubbard offered. He paused, listened, and created space for truth and restoration. His leadership modeled what trauma-informed care truly looks like.
Because healing that excludes, dismisses, or retraumatizes isn’t healing at all.
People of color deserve to feel safe, seen, and valued in every space—especially those meant for healing. They shouldn't have to carry trauma just to be present. They deserve more than inclusion—they deserve belonging.
It’s not enough to say everyone is welcome.
We must build spaces that prove it.
Until next time,
Wendy Wheeler
