Why I Refuse to Separate Culture From Care
For as long as I can remember, I was taught that wellness had to look a certain way to be taken seriously. Quiet rooms. Neutral music. Cold atmospheres. Controlled movement. Sterile environments that were “professional,” but rarely felt like relief.
And yet, some of the most safe moments where I’ve felt most alive in my body didn’t come from silence at all. They came from rhythm. From laughter. From music that felt familiar. From being in rooms where culture wasn’t something we left at the door. It was the foundation.
That’s why I refuse to separate culture from care. Because when we do, we often strip care of the very things that make it accessible, sustainable, and real.
Culture is Information.
Culture is how we learn how to move through the world. It’s how we learn rhythm, humor, expression, rest, and resilience. So when wellness spaces strip that away in the name of “professionalism,” they’re not simplifying care. They’re actually making it complicated.
The body processes familiarity faster than instruction. The nervous system doesn’t need a long explanation. It needs cues that it can recognize. There’s a reason research consistently shows that social connection and belonging are central to health, not optional add-ons (World Health Organization – Social Determinants of Health).
Belonging is a standard and culture is one of the fastest ways people feel it.
My Nervous System Likes a Beat. Yours Probably Does Too.
Simply put: bodies like rhythm, repetition, and joy. Music with a steady beat can help regulate the nervous system. Movement synced with sound supports emotional processing. Laughter lowers stress hormones. So when people move together to music that actually resonates with them, the body softens without being asked. This is beyond a vibe. This is biology.
Neutral Doesn’t Mean Safe
A lot of wellness spaces aim for “neutral” thinking it equals safety. But neutral often just means that it’s familiar to the people who designed it. For many folks, neutral spaces still translate as “don’t be too expressive.” That is less like care and more like performance. To provide culturally competent care is to care for people without having them prove they belong before they can receive support (NIH – Cultural Respect Framework). When people feel seen, their bodies cooperate. It’s really that simple.
While spending an extended time in Mexico and in the Caribbean in my adult years, I was surprised to learn that many healthcare providers travel to the patient’s home to provide care services. This is impactful because people typically design their homes to be safe havens. So when professionals are able to come to you, this lessens the stress of dealing with uncomfortable waiting rooms and limited time with the doctor. This also invites our trusted doctors to look at health holistically. The aroma in the rooms, the foods in the kitchen, the cleanliness of the spaces; all of this can be considered when looking at someone’s health and culture.
This Is Why Meeyogi Looks the Way It Looks
Trap Yoga Social didn’t happen by accident. Sensoulry experiences weren’t an aesthetic choice. Music-forward movement isn’t a trend for us. It’s the infrastructure. Community is how we make care sustainable. Embodiment is how it actually lands. Movement is a huge part of the medicine.
I’m not interested in wellness that only works when everything is quiet, controlled, and ideal.
I care about what works:
after a long workday
inside institutions
in bodies that are tired, guarded, brilliant, grieving, joyful
in real life
And yes… this works in corporate and institutional spaces too. Stress doesn’t disappear because someone has a title. Burnout doesn’t care about credentials. Bodies are bodies.
Care That Sticks Has to Feel Like Something
If care doesn’t feel familiar enough to return to, people won’t. Culture makes care memorable. That’s why I refuse to separate culture from care. Not because it’s trendy, but because it’s honest. This is the work. This is the practice. And my body has been clear about it from the beginning. I just learned to listen.
