As a studio owner for 15 years, I’ve come to realize that creating a trauma-informed community is not just an option—it’s a responsibility. In yoga and mindfulness spaces, we have the unique opportunity to support people through some of the most vulnerable parts of their lives. Trauma-informed care goes beyond offering a safe physical space; it’s about fostering an environment where students feel emotionally and mentally supported as well. The good news is, creating this kind of community is possible through intentional actions, continuous learning, and a deep commitment to ethics.

When I think about what it means to establish a trauma-informed studio, I start with the notion of trust and safety. In my years of running a studio, I’ve seen firsthand how essential predictability can be for students, especially those who are survivors of trauma. Trauma can leave someone hyper-vigilant, always waiting for the next unpredictable event. By offering clear class outlines and sticking to consistent schedules, you begin to build trust with your students. Something as simple as telling your class what to expect for the day—whether it’s a change in lighting or a particular theme—can ease anxiety and create a container of safety. If you are walking through the room to turn the heat down, let your students know. 

"Please know I am just walking across the room to turn the heat down. I will never just walk up and touch you".

Another key aspect is consent. Every studio owner must look at their own philosophy and the needs of the community to establish rules for your teachers around consent. For me, I did not allow my teachers to do hands on adjustments (for many reasons). Instead, the focus was on learning impeccable language skills. This small change has made a significant difference—it gives students autonomy, allowing them to participate in their own comfort and healing without pressure. And let's them know that it isn't how it looks, it's how it feels! 

Inclusion is another cornerstone of a trauma-informed community. Over the years, I’ve learned that yoga is not a one-size-fits-all practice. We need to make sure our classes, workshops, and even our language are inclusive of all bodies and experiences. Trauma doesn’t discriminate, and neither should we. Offering modifications, using neutral language, and creating an atmosphere where students feel comfortable opting in or out of certain poses are all ways to foster a more inclusive space. It's about meeting students where they are—not where we think they should be.

Ethics play a crucial role in this work too. One policy I’m particularly passionate about is respecting students’ privacy, especially when it comes to photography. In today’s social media-driven world, it’s easy to want to capture beautiful moments in class. But taking photos of students without their consent can be incredibly intrusive, particularly for those dealing with trauma. I’ve made it a standard practice at my studio to only take photos outside of class time, with clear permission from students. This ensures that the practice space remains sacred and private.

But being trauma-informed doesn’t stop with the policies we implement or the physical space we create—it’s an ongoing practice that extends into continuous education. I’ve made it a priority to offer regular trauma-informed training for my teachers and staff. The landscape of trauma is always evolving, and by staying informed, we can better serve our community. Workshops on trauma-sensitive teaching, mental health awareness, and even how to hold space for challenging emotions have become staples in our continuing education programs. It’s about equipping everyone, not just the students, with the tools they need to navigate this delicate work.

And finally, building a trauma-informed community means going beyond just offering classes and workshops—it’s about creating a space where healing happens collectively. I’ve found that inviting feedback from my students and staff has been invaluable. It allows them to be active participants in shaping the studio’s direction. Whether through anonymous feedback forms or open conversations, I’ve learned that listening to the voices in your community strengthens trust and makes your space feel even more supportive.

​In essence, creating a trauma-informed studio is an ongoing journey—one that requires mindfulness, empathy, and a deep commitment to the well-being of everyone who steps through your doors. Over the years, I’ve seen the impact of this work, not just on individual students, but on the community as a whole. Yoga is about healing, and when we honor the unique experiences of every person in our space, we create something truly special: a community where people can feel safe to heal, grow, and thrive.