Naked yoga is part of yoga instructor and wellness entrepreneur, Jessamyn Stanley’s daily practice. She believes that it is a freedom of expression and a powerful way to accept the physical body

Jessamyn Stanley is an award-winning voice in wellness, known for her take on social and cultural issues including the modern Black experience, anti-fat bias, LGBTQIA+ representation, and equity in the health industry. So why naked yoga? She finds it much easier to engage with her body without worrying about the clothes she is wearing. Jessamyn believes that naked yoga benefits mental wellness by honouring the divinity that lives within yourself.

In an interview with Vogue she says, “For me, practicing naked and really, truly being forced to accept my body – like, being able to touch it in ways that I was told not to touch because I was taught to be very ashamed in my body, and I started […] feeling deep shame about it – has been transformational in how I show up in my day-to-day life.”

Jessamyn is passionate about disabling the false idea that yoga is just for one type of person and one type of body. Her naked yoga practice is a way of advocating body positivity; all body types should be seen and accepted, not just the polished, ‘instagrammable’ ones. Body positivity is about acknowledging that all body types are worthy of inclusion. She also advocates radically accepting the body, believing that yoga is a deep connection with yourself in the here and now.

Queer spaces are vital hubs for LGBTQIA+ people, combatting loneliness and deepening connections, so what’s behind the decline in their numbers? Alessandra Vescio takes a closer look

When talking about the experience of queer people, it is very common for the word ‘community’ to come up. LGBTQIA+ people themselves often recognise that they are part of a community, a large group made up of different lives, stories, backgrounds, who share the identity of being queer, and what this means and brings with it.

The long journey of figuring out who we are is something unique to the queer community, and although every life is different, there are some very common patterns for LGBTQIA+ people, such as the importance of ‘coming out’ and living our true selves. All of this can be very isolating, especially at the intersection of identities such as race and disability.

According to a 2022 government report, queer people are more likely to feel lonely than their non-queer peers. In particular, gay or lesbian and bisexual participants were 1.4 and 2.5 times more likely to experience loneliness, respectively. Furthermore, transgender people, and trans women in particular, experience high levels of social loneliness. Also, older LGBTQIA+ people are more likely to live alone and to not see their biological family compared to non-queer people, and LGBTQIA+ pupils are more likely to have fewer friends and a smaller group of friends than non-LGBTQIA+ pupils.

“Isolation and loneliness amongst adolescents are on the rise, and the pandemic has taken its toll on young LGBT+ persons’ mental health,” says Lukasz Konieczka, executive director at Mosaic LGBT+ Young Persons’ Trust. “A young, queer person can attend a school of 2,000 students and feel like they are the only one who is queer at the best of times, but often also face hostility aimed at them directly or at someone else within the school of broader society.”

Nevertheless, being queer doesn’t mean being alone. There are thousands of people out there who share similar experiences, and who long for meaningful and trusting connections. And this is why queer spaces are so absolutely vital.

Over the years, they have played an essential role in raising awareness, fighting for LGBTQIA+ rights, and helping queer people make new connections and find a new family, especially for those who were rejected by their biological ones. A queer space can be a café, a bookshop, a bar, a club, a restaurant, a community centre that organises meetings, workshops, events, and parties – or that simply welcomes queer people who want to have fun with others who understand them.

But, despite their importance, queer spaces are on the verge of disappearing, and although the pandemic has made the situation worse, these venues have been at risk for a long time. For example, 58% of LGBTQIA+ venues in London closed their doors between 2006 and 2017, while in the US there are fewer than 25 lesbian bars compared to the 200 that were open in the 1980s.

There are many reasons behind this decline. For instance, dating apps now play an importan

Accepting and sharing your authentic self is a huge milestone, and one that there should be no set timeline for – it’s all about your needs, and when you feel ready. Here, psychotherapist Bhavna Raithatha explores the journey of ‘coming out’ as part of the LGBTQIA+ community, at any stage of life

Coming out refers to the acknowledgement and sharing of a person’s sexual or gender affirmative identity to family, close friends, and, in time, the wider world. This journey is undertaken by thousands of people around the world every year, but it is not an easy one.

This is especially true for older individuals, who may be in their 40s, all the way up to those in their 90s and above, who grew up in times when coming out as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or identifying as queer (LGBTQIA+) was not only frowned upon by their families and wider society, but, in much of the world, was illegal and punishable by law.

For this community, coming out could have meant harassment from the law, and imprisonment, even with very little evidence, as in the case of Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, who in the 1950s was publicly humiliated through the law courts because of his association with military personnel who were gay. In some countries, it could even mean a death sentence. This is still the case in many places around the world today, and alarmingly, laws are being repealed that once were supportive of the LGBTQIA+ community.

Being LGBTQIA+ doesn’t just happen suddenly; most of us know or have an inkling that we are different from a very young age, but due to our situations, including for some a strict religious upbringing, living authentically is not always safe or possible.

We are used to hearing of people coming out in their teens and 20s, however, as society becomes a little more accepting, there is a higher incidence of people coming out in later years. Recent numbers from the Office of National Statistics indicate that 3.1% of the UK population aged over 16+ identified as LGB in 2020. Unfortunately, results for those identifying as trans aren’t available.

This could be helped, in part, by better representation in the public eye, as some well-known people who came out in later life include Wanda Sykes, Anderson Cooper, Sir Ian McKellen, and Cynthia Nixon. Seeing others pave the way can be hugely helpful to individuals on their own path, too.

But every person has a unique story, and timing for when it is right to share your true feelings can vary. Reasons for not coming out earlier can include expectations and pressure in varying degrees from family and society to follow accepted norms, or to not bring perceived shame or dishonour to the family. For many, the threat to their careers and income was the primary factor in the past. In fact, people were not allowed to serve in the Army and be LGBTQIA+ – this rule was only repealed in the year 2000.

Many in the LGBTQIA+ community have felt pressured into heteronormative lives –

What is it, how does it affect the diverse groups within the LGBTQIA+ community, and, importantly, what can we do about it?

Talking about mental health is never easy, but it seems harder to break the stigma when it comes to LGBTQIA+ people. As the artist and writer Alok Vaid-Menon wrote in their blog article “Impossibility of gender non-conforming life”, there are so many words to describe the physical violence that happens to the LGBTQIA+ community every day, but many fewer words, and less attention, on the psychological aspect of being queer.

It’s only relatively recently that organisations and researchers have focused on the wellbeing of the LGBTQIA+ community, publishing reports that reveal shocking and alarming data.

For example, NHS Digital’s first report on the health behaviours of lesbian, gay, and bisexual adults was only published in 2021, and showed that LGB adults have worse mental health, and poorer health outcomes, than heterosexual people, and are more likely to indulge in harmful behaviours, such as drinking or smoking at levels that may put them at risk.

According to a report published by Stonewall and YouGov in 2018, 52% of LGBTQIA+ British people said they had experienced depression in the previous year, 46% of transgender people had thought about taking their own life, and 41% of non-binary people had harmed themselves.

Further 2019 research by the organisations revealed that bi people reported experiencing depression even more than gay and lesbian people.

The researchers say this is due to the environment and the society we live in, where not only physical and psychological abuse against the LGBTQIA+ community happens every day, but also the threat and fear of discrimination itself can have a significant impact on mental health. This phenomenon is called ‘minority stress’.

What is minority stress?

Dr Sara Colognesi, a psychologist and psychotherapist, explains: “Several social and psychological theoretical orientations describe the concept of minority stress as a relationship between minority and dominant values, and the resultant conflict with the social environment experienced by minority group members.”

She continues: “This theory suggests that sexual minority health disparities can be explained in large part by stressors induced by a homophobic and hostile culture, which often results in a lifetime of harassment, maltreatment, and discrimination, and may ultimately impact access to care.”

Coined by Dr Winn Kelly Brooks, and mentioned for the first time in her book Minority Stress and Lesbian Women in 1981, minority stress theory has been studied by many researchers over the years. For example, psychiatric epidemiologist Professor Ilan H Meyer explained in 2007 how stigma and fear of discrimination may generate psychological distress in queer people.

As Dr Colognesi explains: “The most common manifestations of suffering from minority stress are experiences of prejudice and microaggressions, expectations of rejection, hiding, concealing, internalised homophobia, hypervigilance, and experience of chronic shame, and this may lead to the development of disorders commonly associated with chronic stress, depression, and PTSD symptoms.”

The consequences of