Even though I am relatively successful, I can’t help but feel like I am bad at business. In October of 2022, I opened The Spiral Goddess Collective, a Center for Mind/Body Movement. I cringe when I am referred to as the owner. I want to jump out of my skin when someone calls me an entrepreneur. Both of those terms are accurate, but they don’t feel like a good fit. They make me feel dirty, manipulative, and like an imposter.
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I call the business of The Spiral Goddess Collective a not-for-profit because this too is an accurate term, even if it is not sanctioned by the world of business as such. My tax man instructed me that I have to make profit, otherwise the IRS will see my business as a hobby. But my definition of profit is different. I make profit so that I can give back to my community.
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My business is not-for-profit because everything that I earn goes back into the business. While I pay a portion of the money that comes in to the instructors and curators who teach classes and hold events, the money that comes in from the classes that I teach goes directly to business expenses (rent, internet, supplies, printing, software, etc) and my full-time job supplements the costs of operating The SGC. I don’t (yet?!) make money through my business, but we keep growing! Maybe someday I will make back my initial investments in this grand experiment, this dream, this community hub for embodiment and connection.

The Spiral Goddess Collective is a business, but it is also my community service and my activism. It is my laboratory and my art studio that complements my academic work as a Professor of Transdisciplinary Cultural Studies. It is where I put theory into practice. The classes I teach and the workshops and events I offer are a part of this, but providing a space for others to offer their classes, events, and workshops is another big part. And providing this space and all of our offerings to our community at Pay What You Can/Sliding Scale prices is the whole.

My university views my work at The SGC as a conflict of interest, and I have been trying to make the argument that this conflict is actually a benefit to the university, the community, and to our students. But the truth and reality of what The Spiral Goddess Collective is and what it does is not in alignment with policies written to attempt to limit greed, exploitation, and business as usual.
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My mother told me that I should not tell people that I am bad at business. Maybe it is not that I am bad at business as much as it is that I don’t like to play by the rules that most businesses play by—the rules set by capitalism and intertwined with other oppressive systems and structures.

And there are some business things I am pretty good at. In less than two years I have learned two different class management software systems. I’ve learned how to use a variety of other software programs and how to navigate a maze of aspects related to owning a business. I have built upon my skills, experience, and knowledge from my dual careers in academia and the world of fitness. I am highly organized and really good at making and managing schedules. I’m pretty good at website design and social media and program development. I’m good at communicating and valuing people. I can do a lot with very little and I am a multitasker in all things, but there are a lot of details to manage.

There are too many things that I want to do for the business, but time is never on my side. Thus, the biggest reason that I am bad at business is that I have a full-time job as a professor—the kind of job that has no boundaries and a million expectations (and is particularly dangerous for people-pleasing overachievers who tend to lack boundaries!). It is the kind of job that can never be left at work; it always follows me home.

My “real job” bleeds over into my work at The Spiral Goddess Collective, and it has threatened my health and well-being many times over the years. My job in academia is one of the reasons why I teach movement, dance, yoga, and fitness classes and preach self-care and embodied social justice. It is an attempt to find balance.
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In my work at The SGC, I’ve tried not to confuse my desire to provide access with the martyrdom that sometimes comes along with preaching Pay What You Can/Sliding Scale options and offering full and partial scholarships. I want to offer everything for free, but there are bills to pay and friends in the business have told me that people can’t wrap their heads around free. Free means that something has no value. Free means that they are unlikely to invest in themselves. Free means that I don’t value my own worth.

And what they tell me is evident in our culture: too many people want to buy into myths about weight loss. They want to be told that they can reach all of their impossible goals. They want to know how many calories they will burn; they want to see the results on their Fitbit or Apple watch. They want it all to be quick and easy. They want to punish themselves. They want to fit in and they want to stand out. They want superficial transformation—a body to envy. This is not what we are offering.

I want to have more faith in people. I want to think that there is a different way of doing fitness and business as usual.

And I think that we are beginning to see cultural shifts that will make what we offer at The Spiral Goddess Collective more valuable. I think that people are tired and need more rest and relaxation, deeper restoration, and support for their mind/body/spirit. I think people are disconnected—from themselves and from each other—and that they are looking for authentic connections and opportunities for embodiment. I think that people are searching for meaning and purpose and that they are looking for something different than fitness as usual and business as usual.
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For all of the struggles, my work at The Spiral Goddess Collective makes me happy. Teaching what I want to teach, the way I want to teach it, in line with my principles and values, and supporting other people’s teaching makes me happy. When I opened The SGC I envisioned it as a collective and it has become more and more of a collective every month. I have generous, supportive instructors and curators who often give their time, money, and energy as well. And we have grateful members of our collective (aka: clients, participants, customers) who love our space, our vision, our mission, and our offerings. I am grateful for all of the people who make The SGC what it is—a unique center for mind/body movement.

I want to believe that there are ways of doing business as not so usual, and I see the evidence of this possibility every day.