Racism and white supremacy pervade our nation’s fabric—in everyday life, in politics, in culture, and even in the wellness space. For decades, white people have ignored or sidelined the voices of Black people, especially Black women and non-binary people, during conversations about sexual wellness, pleasure, and intimacy. There has been a notable shift in the past few months, but there is still ample work to be done.
Sinikiwe Dhliwayo is an art director, public speaker, and founder of Naaya, a company focused on making wellness equitable and restorative for BIPOC individuals. She consistently engages in dialogue centered around racial justice, white privilege, and the radical nature of Black rage and joy. Sinikiwe took time to speak with us about decolonizing sexual wellness.
, I was doing all of these odd jobs just to get by. So I started practicing yoga and then I really liked it. My entry point into the practice was a very physical entry point. I grew up playing three sports: soccer, lacrosse, and cheerleading. I think the interesting thing for me was that it was never touted as wellness growing up. I was just playing sports. It wasn’t “we’re going to do wellness activities now.” It was just a way of living life.
My entry point into starting Naaya was really from a visual standpoint. I’m a photo/video art director. For four years, I worked at Men’s Health magazine where essentially every month I made a magazine for white men and their health issues and how they can best optimize to be well. I didn’t see myself being reflected in either the workplace or the magazine, and this really started to wear on me.
When I got injured and started practicing yoga, I was looking at ways to teach young people the practice of yoga. I started teaching yoga to high school students with a nonprofit called Bent on Learning which puts yoga teachers in NYC public schools. From there I realized that there was still not a lot of representation. A lot of the teachers with that nonprofit were white teachers who were serving Black and brown young people. I tried to set up an afterschool program where kids could practice yoga for free.
, where yoga is an alternative to other gym activities, versus expecting them to go into a studio that is white-owned, potentially in a neighborhood that they don’t live in or aren’t necessary familiar with, and expecting them to show up in the same way. Also, they’re high schoolers. They have Instagram and other things, so getting a student to dedicate time to yoga, unless they’re super into it, is difficult.
So with the combination of all those experiences, I was trying to figure out how I could create the access that I thought was lacking in the wellness space. Initially, I wanted to have a physical yoga studio space. But I’m always trying to think of how to innovate on what already exists and to do it in a different way, not to say better, but just different. Physical yoga studios have very slim margins in terms of profit. And in New York City, you need financial resources to rent a space, to be able to open a studio. I knew that I didn’t have those financial resources and I knew that running, operating, and being in a yoga studio every day was not for me.
like dating apps, that looks like white women successfully matching with men of any race because they fit into the societal norm of what constitutes as beautiful. On the opposite end of the spectrum, that looks like Black women being highly fetishized (“you’re cute for a Black girl”) and no real recourse for men who spew these comments. If dating apps wanted to fully stand behind BLM and being anti-racist, then folks who violate their terms and conditions would be blocked from using the platform.
looks like really tuning into what your preferences are and maybe why they are that way. Like if you “don’t date” outside of your race, is that just your preference or is it because you have some ingrained anti-blackness or deeply entrenched racism that you have not addressed? Or if you only sleep with BIPOC folks but you don’t seriously date them, or you would never consider having them meet your family, maybe you are fetishizing them.
From a brand standpoint, decolonization looks like how you are actually treating the BIPOC folks who work for you, who purchase your products. Are your entire social media feeds or marketing campaigns filled with white women and void of BIQTPOC folks?
How did your journey in the wellness space begin? Why did you decide to launch Naaya?
I started practicing yoga after an injury while training for the New York marathon. As a part of my physical rehabilitation, my physical therapist suggested that I start practicing yoga. At the time I started practicing, I was in a not-so-great job situation. My salary was maybe $30,000. In addition to my full time jobIf you only sleep with BIPOC folks but you don’t seriously date them, maybe you are fetishizing them.It was kind of a flop for a lot of reasons. It's easy to captivate a young person’s attention in a classroom setting
What does it mean to you to decolonize sexual wellness? How can individuals, communities, and companies work to do this?
I don’t think that decolonization can happen without truly accessing and addressing how white supremacy operates in the sexual wellness space. InIn retrospect, I would take back all the fake orgasms in my twenties and take the opportunity to really connect with my bedfellow.From an individual standpoint,