Adele Kinghan is one of Aotearoa’s most prominent yogis. Verve sat down with the enlightened, inspiring woman to find out more.
Having been a lover of all things dance, Adele turned to yoga in her mid-20s following a cancer diagnosis—in the 15 years since, she has founded RISE Yoga (where she is lead facilitator) and guided hundreds of keen yogis to become yoga teachers themselves. For the past six years, Adele has also served on the board of trustees for the Yoga Education in Prison’s Trust.
“My original impetus to get involved with the mahi (work) of the trust was a desire to make yoga more accessible. It seemed like only a certain privileged few were attending my classes. In that way, I went to the extreme in figuring out who struggles to access the tools and wisdom of yoga most, and who could most benefit from it. The answer was clear.”
The Yoga Education in Prison Trust has been in operation since 2009, but Adele says that it’s not yet commonplace—not because of a lack of interest, but simple logistics.
“It’s quite a complex environment, to offer weekly in-person yoga classes. Which is why we’ve developed our distance learning programme, ‘Freedom from Within’. It enables inmates to learn and apply yoga practices, science and philosophy in a self-directed way, with mentoring support from teachers, regardless of where they are.”
The programme is becoming ever more popular, with a definite uptick since the pandemic struck.
“More students are making their way through the entire course, which culminates in them learning to teach yoga to their peers. It’s a free programme, and they can also continue it once they’re released.”
How do the classes benefit the prisoners, and are they tailored any differently?
“I often reflect on Dr Kim Workman’s comment that results would be improved if prisons were run with the belief that inmates were suffering trauma that must be addressed. We support the view that it’s what the inmates have experienced—rather than what they’ve done—that’s led them to where they are.”
The yoga is aligned with the te whare tapa whā model, the four cornerstones of Māori health: taha tinana (physical health), taha wairua (spiritual health), taha hinengaro (mental health), and taha whānau (family and social relationships). The purpose of the programme is to “interrupt cycles of harm”, opening the doorway to “growth and transformation”.
“In this way, we’re able to support other programmes prisons might be participating in, like addiction recovery, as well as cultivating a greater understanding on who they are beneath and beyond their criminal behaviour. Hurt people, hurt people, whereas, healed people, heal people. I guess in this way it is quite different to regular yoga classes, but not too different—trauma shows up in every yoga room.”
What is the general reaction of inmates, prison staff, and the public?
“It does take quite a bit of education as to the value of yoga. There are still misperceptions as to what yoga is. Unfortunately, the collective consciousness believes it’s about stretching or an alternative form of exercise. Some believe ‘prisoners don’t need to stretch’ to rehabilitate or develop pro-social behaviours. The beauty of educating people is that the proof is in the pudding. One class proves the immediate benefits like inmates being calmer and more attentive, and better regulation of moods and sleep.”
What were your expectations going in, and how did reality compare?
“Well, I knew it would be a stark contrast to the zen-like feel and aesthetic of yoga studios, and all I really had to go on was what I saw on TV. Fortunately, the induction process really helps you get a good sense of what to expect, and once I was in the unit teaching my first class to the 14 tāne that showed up for it, everything that felt unfamiliar—like the chaos and noise, and the badly lit, barren room akin to a fishbowl with onlookers—all fell away. The curiosity and openness of the students was all that mattered. I know people do wonder if it’s ‘safe’, and all I can say to that is that I’ve never felt unsafe. The support of the staff, and the gratitude of the inmates who know I’m there for them, gives me a sense that ‘they’ve got my back’.”
Do you build a rapport with them?
“A pre-requisite for openness to the wisdom of yoga, and the transformation that is possible, is a foundation of trust. So yes, in that way I build a rapport and really try to meet them where they are in terms of physical needs, as well as their mental, emotional, and spiritual needs. Most of my students are Māori, and so I parallel their te ao Māori wisdom and understanding about the nature of the world and themselves, with the wisdom tradition of yoga; both speak to ‘connectedness’. And so, our time together is often an exploration of, ‘What are we connected to?’” Adele says that she discourages inmates from discussing their crimes, choosing instead to focus on the ‘now’, on their breathing and what’s happening in the their body.
“It’s about the shifts I see in how they stand and breathe, the light that flickers in their eyes when they reconnect to their mauri, and the softening in their holding patterns when I validate the understanding that what’s happened to them doesn’t define their worth,” she says. “We also get many quotes from students doing the correspondence course in terms of how it’s changed them, and how meaningful the material is for how they navigate prison life and beyond. This is all fuel for the fire I need to keep showing up to do the mahi together. In the words of Martin Luther King Jr: ‘No one is free until everyone is free.’”
Do you work with both female and male prisoners, and is there a difference in their approach and interest?
“I teach two classes a week for tāne at Mt Eden Correctional Facility, but we also have teachers in other prisons, including women’s prison. From what I know from my colleagues who teach wāhine, there is just as much interest and commitment. I mentor a lot of wāhine through our distance learning programme and the shifts I see in them as they work through a lot of the self-reflective material in terms of self-understanding, compassion and inner empowerment is remarkable. This is also true of the tāne I mentor. For them I also think it particularly helps them find a greater perspective on what they’ve been born into, and the lives they’ve led as a result of that. It’s a process of moving from a state of whakamā (shame), and all of the destructive behaviours that are a result of that, to a state of whakamana (inner power).”
You must have learnt new things about yourself also?
“Absolutely. This kaupapa (practice), particularly with how this mahi intersects the worlds of both yoga and social justice, can’t help but transform you. While it’s true that you must have good boundaries and self-care practices, as some of it can be quite heartbreaking, there’s also an element of allowing yourself to be vulnerable in the shared learning space of the class—to also be shaped by the dedication and vulnerability of the prisoners in how they show up. There’s a commonly understood term in therapeutic work called vicarious trauma, but what I find equally fascinating as a result of this mahi, is vicarious resilience. I’m much more in touch with my own capacity to be resilient as a result of those who demonstrate resilience in the face of overwhelming hardship and oppression.”
I finish up by suggesting to Adele that it must also have greatly shaped her views on Aotearoa’s justice system. It’s a tricky topic to navigate, she admits, but believes the current punitive approach to be self-defeating. “I’m a prison abolitionist insomuch as I believe there will be much better societal outcomes if we address the underlying causes, or trauma, alongside developing greater community accountability and restoration,” she continues. “It’s not a pipe-dream, but perhaps a long way off, which is why I’m working within the current system to help broaden the approach. Even something as simple as starting with a strengths-based view, asking ‘What’s right with you, what are your strengths?’ rather than ‘What’s wrong with you? can be transformative for those who’ve only ever known a life of ‘being wrong’.”
