Monday in Green

I recently visited a local boutique sauna, to use up some leftover ClassPass credits in a month that was way too cold to haul myself to an actual workout class. This sauna chain arrived in the city about five years ago, and had initially marketed itself as being a social, young atmosphere for groups looking to socialize and mingle in a sober environment.

The entrance was inside an underground mall-like plaza, connected to the subway and several downtown office buildings. The door was at the bottom of a grimy escalator. At the entrance, a friendly and vaguely frazzled-looking receptionist ‘invited’ me to ‘join the community’ and ‘participate in the community agreement’, which primarily meant signing a mandatory waiver and providing my email for future promotions. She gave me a blue wristband to mark me as being a first-timer, and told me the staff would be keeping an eye out for me.

The rules on the wall set off a vaguely uneasy feeling that may have been undeserved. Aside from the obvious rules about glass and alcohol, there was a specific, cryptically-worded warning that this was not a spot to pick up dates. On one hand, I appreciate wanting to spell this out in an environment where most people are in bathing suits. On the other hand, there is a certain power of suggestion with a warning like that.

The environment was very simple. A large sauna, with three tiers of large benches and a large coal bed in the centre; a room full of ice baths of varying temperatures; and a ‘fellowship hearth’. They explained that they encouraged patrons to reconnect in this designated social environment after their meditative sauna experience. There was a large fireplace in the centre, with tea and towels. On the surrounding couches, men and women chatted quietly. Despite the gender-neutral changerooms, the space felt distinctly heterosexual, though not bigoted.

Perhaps it’s that I so strongly associate queerness and saunas with a very different setting, but this environment felt extremely binary. The men tended to be older, and generally seemed to be there for the utilitarian benefits of the sauna. They had those bell-shaped felt hats to help dissipate the steam, and they sat next to the timers where they could adjust their temperatures for maximum efficiency in triggering their heat-stress proteins. The women were all young, very feminine, and to my surprise, relatively dressy – most were wearing makeup, almost all had their hair styled, and most were wearing very fashion-forward bathing suits. The receptionist had even commented on my hair, which I had put in a tight braid, which I had thought was odd before seeing how much I stuck out among the crowd.

It seemed to me that the environment was gender neutral in an effort to reduce the space between men and women – not by encouraging those who existed in the gap, but by physically bringing men and women closer to one another.

Next to me, three men sat discussing their work. One was describing a committee he was sitting on for some professional organization, which I had arrived too late to identify. The conversation had such a distinct, flowery, corporate character that it instantly brought up a panicky feeling in my stomach. The man was describing the steps he was taking to be able to provide a more aligned, person-centered approach to his committee. He emphasized wanting a democratic approach to problem-solving and community-building, a holistic human-oriented approach, and a synergistic harmony. The man talked quietly, in a very slow cadence with a lilting tone in his voice. Reclined on the couch, he spoke a lot with his hands as though inviting the other men into his worldview and explaining the immense peace and harmony it brought him.

It dawned on me immediately how little I knew about this man and his work, in a way that made me feel immediately out of my element. The language was what I was used to hearing from activists, but also from accountants and engineers building heat-seeking missiles and turning a blind eye to their employers’ track records with foreign military interventions.

As community-building itself has become an industry, with new institutions branding themselves as an inclusive, wellness-based home base, the spaces we’re told are inclusive and wholesome not only have no formal mandate of inclusivity, they don’t even need to pretend to. While a religious or cultural community center is tied together by one specific aspect of identity, the affiliates may have very little else in common. Particularly for minority cultural groups, the interest in holding together the strongest, most unified community is often stronger than any interest in maintaining strong dogma. You’ll find, for example, significantly more diversity in church youth groups than outsiders might expect – often more variation in wealth and ethnicity than in schools.

While this environment has not ever branded itself as exclusive to any culture or experience, it has cultivated an image that severely limits the demographics of the participants. I wondered what other communities these participants were a part of. Were they also attending groups where they were not the majority? Were they ever in environments where the conversations of those around them brought up the pang of being confronted with an unfriendly ideology, like I had now?

The man continued. He was an occupational therapist, and his committee was focused on improving diversity among the providers. When he said this, I saw a brief flash of disapproval on the other men’s faces, which I may have imagined. I thought I heard the first man speed up his speech to immediately qualify his statement – that he wasn’t interested in simply increasing the number of minority providers, but in increasing the number of perspectives and gaining new viewpoints among those leading the field. He also mentioned that in the last twenty years, most occupational therapists have been white women. The other men’s faces brightened. I imagined that this man was also feeling a pang of confrontation when he said this. I liked the idea that he was sticking out his neck by explaining his commitment to DEI in a traditionally feminine workplace. I liked the idea that the other men were seeing him as a bringer of new ideas, and that they had opened their minds a sliver to the idea of diversity in healthcare.

I also imagined that if these men were in a pub, they may have pushed back more – they may have given the man a joking hard time about caving to the woke. I imagined that he may also have reacted more strongly to that – would he have made stronger value judgments there, seeing these men in their normal attire in their natural habitat? Would he have dug his heels in more, in an environment not dictated by calm? Was that just how he always talked?

Even though the conversation was essentially small talk about his work, it felt almost jarringly political for the space. I couldn’t imagine bringing up any topic even vaguely related to politics in this environment. I had the impression that, regardless of the political views of any of the other participants, their primary interest was not having to talk about it. At once, this silence was comforting and frigid. I appreciate reprieve from the insanity of the world, like anyone, but an environment that has essentially codified that nobody is allowed to rock the boat is sure to attract those steering the boat.

I am not inclined to force people to label themselves to participate, but there is a balance before we get to an environment that forbids accountability. I appreciate spaces focused on relaxation and recreation, but they cannot be a replacement for spaces that truly allow for grounding and conflict. I can’t fight the feeling of the ‘pang’ of confrontation, but I regret how much I feel like it controls my behavior. Should I be describing my day job to the men in the sauna? Should I be forcing them to justify to themselves the cuts they voted for and the cars they drive?

At 5:30, most of these people were probably leaving work to decompress on the way home. I wondered how many of them had workdays that involved funding wars or minimizing social spending. Were they decompressing from the same stresses as me, or were they causing my anxieties? Were there any in this sauna that were verifiable fascists, whose day jobs essentially relied on a declining democracy?

I enjoyed the sauna. I hoped these people did as well. I hoped they were returning to safe, happy families and homes. But most of all, I hoped that this was not the extent of their social landscapes. I hoped they wouldn’t leave this place thinking it was a radically inclusive community. I hoped they had places where they felt the pang. I hoped I wasn’t the only one reading way too much into the layout of the dressing room.