Alexander Technique International

Cover page of the ATI Exchange magazine following the 2020 annual conference

The Power and Potential of Our Integrated Collective

ALYSSA FRANKS

At the Plenary Session of the 2020 ATI Annual Conference, Andrew Suseno, founder of

Parcon Resilience, offered us a somatic lens through which to examine racism in ATI.

Throughout his workshop, Andrew often referred to the body, defining body in such a way

as to encompass our individual selves, organization, nation, and ultimately, world. If ATI

wishes to be truly diverse and inclusive, we need a means-whereby for evolving beyond the

racism historically engrained and systematically perpetuated. Andrew suggested that the

way to change our habitual body is to engage in the collective body. I agree. I also believe

that when the Alexander Technique is taught as a process of integration, it serves as a

potent tool for helping others engage in understanding the collective body as well. So with

the power of our information and resources, what does it look like for the members of ATI

to heed Andrew’s call to engage in the collective body?

One way ATI is engaged is with a statement on our home page expressing solidarity with

the Black Lives Matter movement. After the death of George Floyd, my inbox was flooded

with e-mails making a similar statement. My social media was likewise saturated. Black

flags with bold white lettering were staked into lawns, and spray paint decorated the

asphalt of our neighborhood streets. These abundant social signals do generate momentum

for a large movement such as Black Lives Matter. They are images that direct attention

toward the cause and the collective consciousness. They should not, however, be used as a

way to deflect attention from the responsibility of the individual or organization to take

action that aligns with the cause they claim to support.

One action being taken by many organizations, including ATI, is to arrange substantial

diversity and inclusion trainings. I have attended three of these in the past several months.

I question whether they have led to real change within the organizations that hosted them.

My concern is that many institutions are content with organizing these trainings—

essentially planting the Black Lives Matter flag in the yard and calling it good. Following

Andrew's session, I wonder how ATI can be different.

In his plenary introduction, Andrew shared pictures of his family, his company, and his

reasons for being with us: “I am interested in forming anti-racist partnerships. Why are you

here?” This is a worthy question for all of us to reckon with. The massive social pressure

around us can speak louder than the deep whispered voice of our own desire. We all care

about being perceived a certain way, but do we have the actual desire to change our

actions? Do we desire to change the habitual functioning of our organization?

None of us had long to reflect on this question because Andrew swiftly had the Zoom room

in motion. He made a bold expressive gesture, extending one arm away from his body while

guarding his heart with his other arm. He then asked us all to “try it on.” He watched and

61

offered refinements, challenging everyone to be more detailed in their mirroring. I

chuckled a little as he prompted the gallery full of AT teachers to tense their arms.

As we got the hang of it, he gave us context for this movement. The gesture was his feeling

of frustration. Frustration that stemmed from the U.S. government’s response to the

pandemic. From the recent acts of racial violence and ongoing reign of white supremacy.

Andrew then asked us to change the movement, make it our own. He asked us to change

one thing and know exactly how and why we changed it. This was the first time we were

asked to engage in our collective body by sharing our variations and explanations. Again,

Andrew challenged us to be more specific in how we moved and described the context. He

was asking us to be brave, to listen and respond to our intuition, the part of ourselves that

houses the deep whispered voice of desire. Except that rather than quiet introspection, this

was bold movement in a crowded Zoom room of colleagues, friends, and strangers.

Andrew set the tone for such intimate sharing by telling us his own story about growing up.

His father was in the military and Andrew was a Boy Scout. As a kid, he expected his life

would follow the neat template that was handed to him: Eagle Scout, college, successful

career—the path of a model U.S. citizen. Indeed, that trajectory led him to become a

successful physical therapist. But things changed for Andrew after he experienced a

particularly violent form of racial discrimination. During a professional meeting, he was hit

between the eyes by a pen thrown by a White colleague because Andrew had turned to

speak to the only other person of color in the room. Much to his boss’s dismay, Andrew did

not allow the humiliating moment to pass unnoticed. He asked the company to publicly

acknowledge and denounce the behavior. He was pulled aside and confronted by one of his

mentors: “We can't be racist, we’re Feldenkrais for Christ’s sake!” Still, Andrew refused to

accept what was unacceptable. He would not be silent. Instead he took real action to

embody the necessary change in the habitual body. He left the company and started his

own somatic collective for people of color, a blend of Parkour and Contact Improvisation.

The habitual body was a motif of Andrew’s plenary session. At various points while sharing

his story, Andrew paused to ask, “Is this the neutral body?” At first I was puzzled by this

question, wondering if the term neutral body came from his background in Feldenkrais or

improvisation. Of course, there is no neutral body. Everybody is an accumulation of history

and context, continually responding to the changing world around us. Yet, habits, by merit

of familiarity, feel right. Habits feel “neutral.” In addition to our physical habits, we have

learned habitual expectations including certain sets of characteristics we might associate

with practical bodies in particular contexts. For example, one might expect an Alexander

Technique teacher to be a White woman. In the same way, a particular image came to my

mind during Andrew’s story when he talked about Eagle Scouts. Another came to mind

when he mentioned his father’s military career. My idea of the “neutral” Eagle Scout or

soldier arose unconsciously. To change my unconscious image would require either

contrary evidence or recognizing my bias, as well as a conscious plan such as we use in the

Alexander work.

62

Andrew explained that one of the tools Parcon Resilience uses to consciously change their

habitual point of view is to project people onto objects. He shared a touching story of using

this tool with the image of his father. He projected his idea of his father, whom he described

with the words "toxic masculinity,” onto a large velvet curtain. He was surprised to

discover that unlike his father, the curtain could softly envelop him as he cried. I felt a pang

of empathy, thinking of my own father who spent his career working in the Air Force, as a

police officer, and later as a state prison captain. To my knowledge, my father spoke the

words “I love you” only twice in his life, and never to his children. The sadness I felt when

Andrew shared his story was directed not toward myself or Andrew, but toward our

fathers. It was a sadness for all the bodies living in systems that promote the denial and

suppression of important aspects of the whole self: tenderness, affection, the need for

validation, and love. It comes as no surprise that the police force and military are highly

associated with racism, sexism, and homophobia. The exercise Andrew explored in his

somatic practice gave him another choice of how to see his father.

When I started to learn Integrative Alexander Technique (AT applied directly to the

activities of one's life), I discovered that lessons I had learned from my own father were at

the root of a lot of my unnecessary tightening. I understand that my father was doing his

best based on the information he had. Now, knowing Integrative Alexander Technique, I

have a different choice than to tighten around my emotional responses and feelings of

discomfort. I wish my father had the knowledge that would have enabled him to coordinate

rather than contract for so many years. As Maya Angelou reportedly said, “When we know

better, we do better.” (Winfrey, 00:02:05 - 00:02:07) I believe that is true—when we have

the will and take the actions to integrate new knowledge. This is for me the essence of

Integrative Alexander Technique.

Within this essence lies the potential for healing as Andrew experienced through his own

somatic practice. He moved through some of his suffering around his relationship with his

father. I credit the Alexander Technique for my ability to see the soft velvet behind the hard

front of my own father. I credit it for my ability to choose compassion rather than fear. The

velvet curtain, relating to the theme of the Plenary, has made me wonder about the

potential application of AT for combating conscious and unconscious racial prejudices in

the collective body.

After Andrew shared his story, he had us revisit the “Try on my movement” exercise. This

time, the members of ATI were in the lead, half of us moving and half of us observing. We

were asked to move in response to the questions that the ATI Board had asked Andrew in

previous meetings.

The first question was “Should ATI put more pictures of people of color in our social media

and brochures?” I considered as I listened—images matter. The images and examples I

have experienced are why I have a particular mental picture of an Eagle Scout, a solider,

and an Alexander Technique teacher. My conscious and unconscious images help me

discern which groups I do or do not belong in. So, if ATI values diversity and inclusion, a

diverse group of people need to see themselves represented in a way that fosters a sense of

belonging. However, the social signaling of pictures on our website and media should not

63

take the place of the kind of action that could reach populations we have yet to reach.

Changing only the images we use would be the equivalent of just planting the Black Lives

Matter flag in the yard.

Andrew quoted the Board of ATI twice more, prompting us to move in response to the

following: “Are the old guard of AT getting rich off a colonial model of teaching?” and “What

am I afraid to see?” I observed that my ATI colleagues were moving in vivid and expressive

ways when given these prompts. However, when people were called upon to give the

context for their gestures, the words did not seem to come easily. When people did speak,

the language remained fairly obtuse. They seemed to talk around their thoughts and

feelings, as if they did not fully own the movement, or the thought underneath. As we are all

practiced in integrating thought and movement, I assume that such ambiguity was a result

of uncertainty and discomfort around the highly charged subject of race.

My interest in the ambiguity of language comes from my concern that an unwelcome

byproduct of the social pressure from the Black Lives Matter movement is that many White

people, who hold the most power to make change, will withdraw into silence. I know many

White people who have expressed a deep fear of doing or saying the wrong thing and losing

their job or the respect of their peers. Several fellow White artists have told me that right

now is not the time for their story. We justify our fear of speaking, and of failing, in many

ways. Here’s the thing: Racism in the United States, or in your home country, is everyone’s

story. It is not my fault that systemic racism exists; it is not a direct result of my use.

However, it is the habit of the collective body I was born into. Therefore, if I care about true

equality, I need to take the actions that lead to conscious change. The trouble with keeping

quiet is that withdrawal does not make change. Audre Lorde, in her essay “The

Transformation of Silence into Language and Action,” writes, “For we have been socialized

to respect fear more than our own needs for language and definition, and while we wait in

silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke us.” (44) I

really appreciated that Andrew designed an activity challenging us to find the words.

Language is power because it shapes the way we are able to think about things.

The words that got me thinking most from the movement section of Andrew's workshop

were “Someone else’s secret.” These words belonged to Monika Gross, founder of the Poise

Project. They resonated with me because they describe how many of us regard systemic

racism. As Monika continued to give context to her movement, she said, “I am afraid to look

because if I do, I’ll have to do something about it.” And indeed, her organization does a lot

to share AT with underserved populations, particularly people living with Parkinson’s

Disease. In this way, the Poise Project is taking action to engage the collective body.

If ATI wishes to take action toward greater inclusion, we must all consider whether a

collective sense of belonging is fostered in how we teach. Is the language we use while

teaching inclusive? Is it trauma-informed? Andrew guided his movement exercises with

language that invited curiosity and offered options for how we could choose to participate.

In this way, he kept us, as the movers, in power. This worked to promote a sense of

ownership in the exercise we were being asked to do.

64

I was introduced to the Alexander Technique as a process I own. Cathy Madden taught me

that the first step of Integrative Alexander Technique is my desire. AT is a tool that gives

me flexibility and the freedom to choose how I move toward my desires. Cathy is a master

at keeping her students in the lead of their own learning, and therefore in a position of

power. She walks alongside her students, creatively offering the next edge of the

individual’s path. On the first page of her book, Teaching the Alexander Technique, Cathy

shares how she was once told, “You are a teacher. The Alexander Technique is the practice

guiding your teaching.” (13)

I believe that to engage in the collective body, ATI members need to be creative,

spontaneous, adaptive teachers guided by the same principles. Flexibility in the way we

teach is essential if we wish to change our habitual body. A.R. Alexander is commonly

quoted to have said, “The hallmarks of the Alexander Technique are creativity, spontaneity,

and adaptability to change.” To reach beyond our in-group, we must honor each student as

they are, knowing that they are the expert of their own experience and that the teacher’s

role is to create the fertile conditions in which the student can learn what they want to

learn. The conditions we create must empower our students. This becomes especially

important if we wish to share AT with more people of color, because a historical power

imbalance already exists. It is harmful to prioritize using F.M. Alexander’s language and

teaching style over the comfort of our students. Terms like “monkey pose” are not the best

choice.

All dogma causes harm, and we must be mindful of the fact that F.M. Alexander used

explicitly racist language. One action we can take to engage in the collective body is to

respond more directly to this fact. If we want to create a place of belonging, we cannot be

silent about what is unacceptable. It can no longer be “someone else’s secret.” We should all

have a clear answer for how we have evolved since F.M.’s time, as he clearly expressed his

wish that future teachers would.

I agree with Andrew that a deeper engagement in our collective body, and to the body of

other organizations, is one of the ways in which ATI could evolve. Learning from the Poise

Project model, ATI could form partnerships with organizations that can connect teachers to

people who would otherwise be unable to afford or access private lessons. These sorts of

partnerships are easier to forge as a reputable collective, backed by research and history.

There are great examples of successful partnerships within the realm of what we teach,

including yoga in prisons and mindfulness for veterans and in schools. Here’s the rub: To

pursue these initiatives, we have to change the habitual functioning of ATI. It would indeed

require collective effort of teams who have a means-whereby for funding the work.

In the end, Andrew’s workshop was different than the other trainings I have experienced.

For one thing, there was much less diversity in the group of participants. I do not

remember seeing anyone who was Black or Latinx. I do not remember meeting anyone

during this year’s conference who was transgender or disabled.

65

The other key difference was that Andrew’s workshop integrated movement into the

discussion of diversity and inclusion. Andrew asked us to embody, and therefore, own the

movement for social justice. The Asaro tribe of Papua New Guinea has a saying,

“Knowledge is only rumor until it lives in your bones.” (Browne, 224) If ATI truly has the

will to become more diverse and inclusive, we will need to go beyond gathering

information and take action to change its habitual body.

I believe in the power of our work for the benefit of the collective, but only when it is taught

as a means-whereby for integration and empowerment. Integration is anti-racism. What

would the collective body look like if, in the moment of recognizing difference in others,

more people were to coordinate rather than contract between head and spine? If more

people were to respond consciously rather than react automatically to the issue of racism?

What would it look like if conversations could be had with expansive curiosity rather than

fear and withdrawal? In Pocket Guide to Interpersonal Neurobiology, Dan Siegel defines

kindness as “The visible, natural outcome of integration. Positive regard for others,

compassionate intention, and acts of extending oneself in service of others are all different

manifestations of the differentiation and linkage of selves within a larger ‘We’.”(A1-44) If

more people moved through the world as integrated selves, with kindness, there would not

be such race-based violence and oppression in our society. We would recognize that

individual suffering is collective suffering. In this way, the Alexander Technique could have

a real impact toward greater social justice in the world.

The world is aching for integration. We have tools and resources that can be of true benefit.

So how will we, as individual teachers as well as an organization, heed Andrew Suseno’s

call to action and engage in the collective body?

Works Cited

Brown Brené. Dare to Lead: Brave Work, Tough Conversations, Whole Hearts. Random

House Large Print Publishing, 2019.

Lorde, Audre. Sister Outsider. Penguin Books, 2019.

Madden, Cathy. Teaching the Alexander Technique: Active Pathways to Integrative Practice.

Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2018.

Siegel, D.J. (2012) Pocket Guide to Interpersonal Neurobiology: An Integrative Handbook of

the Mind. New York: W.W. Norton & Company.

Winfrey, Oprah. “The Powerful Lesson Maya Angelou Taught Oprah.” Oprah.com, Oprah's

Life Class, Aired 19 Oct. 2011, www.oprah.com/oprahs-lifeclass/the-powerful-

lesson-maya-angelou-taught-oprah-video.

66

***

Alyssa Franks is a Seattle-based actor, writer, and owner of Move Whole. She is an apprentice

teacher of Integrative Alexander Technique under the mentorship of Cathy Madden. She

received her MFA from the University of Washington’s Professional Actor Training Program

and her BFA from Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts. Alyssa is on the faculty at Freehold

Studio Theatre Labs. She is a certified Vinyasa Yoga instructor, teaching private clients as well

as hosting pro bono classes at Women’s Jubilee Center and Elizabeth Gregory House.

Keynote Speaker at the Creative Aging Conference

Over 1000 seniors came to the Conference for Aging Artfully. I had the honor of being asked by Gale Brewer to be a Keynote Panelist to share about my Su Casa Parcon work with seniors and to speak about my thoughts on Creative Aging. It was so wonderful to be aligned with Gale and my fellow panelist. I am excited to be part of this movement!

Thank you so much Gale Brewer! It was a pleasure to meet you!

When: August 8, 2018

Where Fordham Law Center