Why we need to talk about stealing in the online yoga space

We talk about it a lot in yoga ahimsathe concept of non-violence. We talk less about his quieter brother or sister, levelthe practice of not stealing. But in today’s yoga world, especially online, this latter teaching has wide applications.

Traditionally, asteya is described as not taking what is not freely given. Stealing doesn’t just involve physical things. It takes time. Taking ideas. Take work. Take credit. Take content.

It shows up in plenty of ways in the online yoga space. Particularly when someone reposts your words or renames your method or your reel as their own without credit. When teachers are asked to create online content “for exposure” and without compensation. When studios request recorded classes, workshops, or teacher training courses that they can sell repeatedly without payment above the going rate for a single use. When a community-based offering is observed, copied and then replicated for private profit without recognition or reciprocity.

I remember the first time a studio asked me to be part of their yoga teacher training. I requested a licensing agreement to ensure that the material I had spent thousands of dollars learning and cultivating for decades would not be reused or sold outside that cohort without fair compensation. The request was rejected and the work was asked to another teacher.

That moment made something clear to me. Asking for ethical exchange in yoga spaces is often seen as disruption rather than alignment. Yet none of this is in line with yoga.

I want to acknowledge the complexity here. Yoga itself has been co-opted, watered down and repackaged by the West. That history matters, and it should humble us. There is also a long history of theft in the West, especially by communities of color, by women, and by marginalized groups. Yoga is no stranger to this pattern. But this should not prevent us from exercising ethical restraint among ourselves. If anything, history calls us for a higher standard of care.

When we ask someone to give their labor without a fair exchange, we are asking them to subsidize our company or platform with their years of training and their invisible emotional labor. It’s about taking energy, time, creativity and confidence. That’s not collaboration. That’s extraction.

This involves taking an online post, course, or method that you admire and quietly repackaging it as your own. While it’s rare to find entirely new ideas anymore, I believe in recognizing who we learn from and what inspires us. Social media is no longer just a place to connect with friends. It’s a place where people build businesses and earn a living. That reality requires an ethical bar.

What is especially hypocritical is when this happens in spaces that speak the language of community, healing and collective liberation. When someone builds something generous and meaningful, and another person quietly lifts it up to serve only their own benefit, something sacred is violated.

If we take asteya seriously, we must ask challenging questions. Are we citing sources and honoring intellectual heritage? Are we asking for labor under the guise of ‘opportunity’? Do we reward teachers fairly for digital content that generates lasting revenue? Are we building wealth only for institutions or for the people who enable the sharing of this practice?

Honoring asteya in the yoga community means choosing reciprocity over convenience. It means paying people when they create value. It means asking permission before sharing or repurposing someone’s work. It means you have to name your teachers. It means slowing down long enough to consider whether or not your success comes at someone else’s expense.

We own nothing in yoga. And we are responsible for everything we do with it.

Asteya asks us to remember that what we are really protecting is not the content. It’s dignity. It’s trust. It is the care that makes the community what it is.