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IT IS UNSEASONABLY gray out as I make my way to downtown Brooklyn. The air is thick, the clouds threaten rain, and pedestrians are on edge, rushing to avoid the impending storm. It starts pouring just as I reach the Ace Hotel, where I duck inside to wait for the poet and interdisciplinary artist Fariha Róisín, her latest book tucked under my arm. As I prepare to meet Róisín, who cofounded Studio Ānanda — an organization that describes itself as “a resource for global, post-capitalist healing” — I am apprehensive.

As a yoga and meditation teacher myself, and the creator of a line of mindful tools, I worry that Róisín might dismiss my participation in the wellness industry as another unwelcome example of the commodification of well-being. What if the truest answer to the question posed by the very title of her book, “Who Is Wellness For?,” is one that excludes people like myself (half-white and privileged) despite a deep-seated reverence and gratitude for these teachings?

When Róisín arrives, she hugs me and apologizes for being late: “I hate making people wait. It’s so disrespectful.” Her warmth and concern for my convenience, as well as that of our servers and the other patrons sitting nearby, is disarming. “It’s been really intense,” Róisín shares about her book launch, currently packing her schedule beyond its limits. “Putting something that’s so deeply personal out there is brutal … it’s awkward and I’m so sensitive, but I also know that this is my life’s purpose.”

Róisín cites Audre Lorde, James Baldwin, and bell hooks as the authors of the books that changed her life. They each wrote about the inextricable link between activism and self-care — which is the solution Róisín proposes to the flawed construct of wellness she outlines. Self-care often starts as a means to better understand ourselves but she, like Lorde and hooks, whom Róisín cites throughout her book, urges us to move past individual gains and toward a collective mindset. “Capitalism tricks us into believing that we don’t need each other,” says Róisín. “We’ve come to view relying on others — like your neighbors — as a weakness, and yet, we see people with immense amounts of money who are addicted and suffering and in pain.” As Lorde famously said, “Without community, there is no liberation.”

The problem is apparent. We, as a nation, are more divided than ever. There is a global climate crisis, and the Western notion of community, as Róisín outlines in her book, has been co-opted by capitalism. “Wellness is not an individual pursuit,” Róisín cautions. “We need to do this work together and from the ground up. We have to be very honest, especially white folks, as to the ways we’ve been complicit in the colonization of wellness.” When I ask for an example, she is quick to point to the wellness industry, which earns over $9 billion in annual revenue in the U.S. “If you’re a yoga student, for example,” says Róisín, “you need to reconcile how much you’ve benefited from these practices with how much you’ve given back to the Indigenous communities where they originated.”

By the time we wrap up, the sun had burned through all the clouds. Three hours passed in what felt like 30 minutes. I thank Róisín for shining a spotlight on the paradoxical nature of the wellness industry — one I’ve spent many years trying to reconcile — and for providing actionable ways to collectively right the wrongs of the past while contributing to a more equitable and sustainable future.