Qoya

What is Qoya?

Qoya is a movement-based, feminine embodiment practice designed to help individuals—primarily women—remember their essence as “wise, wild, and free.” Developed by Rochelle Schieck in 2009, it blends yoga, dance, and sensual, free-flowing movement to encourage participants to get out of their heads and into their bodies.

Key Aspects of Qoya:

• The Philosophy: Qoya is based on the idea that “through movement, we remember” our inherent, sacred nature.

• Wise, Wild, & Free: “Wise” draws on yoga and meditation, “Wild” uses creative expression and dance, and “Free” emphasizes pleasure and nourishing movement.

• No Way to Do It Wrong: A core tenet is that if it feels good, it is right—prioritizing inner sensation over how a movement looks.

• 13 Pillars: Classes often include rituals, setting intentions, shaking to release tension, and dancing with a specific theme.

• Community & Connection: It focuses on fostering a “safe, sacred space,” often in women-only (cis and trans) settings, though some instructors offer all-gender classes.

I had the absolute honor of joining a Qoya class offered and referred to me by my Reiki Master, Zandra at Zandra’s Healing Arts, LLC. I highly recommend her for both Reiki and Qoya.

If you’ve been following our blogs, you’ve probably figured out that I like to explore—and have explored many different types of healing modalities and alternatives.

I believe there is more than one way to heal. Nothing fits all. Everyone has different parts of themselves that need healing for different reasons. What works for one may not work for another, because we are so different—yet so the same.

A little backstory when it comes to dancing.

I am not much of a “steps” gal. I’ve always had a hard time with two-steppin’, square dancing, anything structured. It always felt too restricted. Makes sense if you knew how I grew up and where I came from.

But I loved to dance. It always felt liberating—a way to express in an abstract way. I went to a lot of dances growing up outside of school. School dances? Not my crowd. Still, I loved movement.

Then I got married. Marriage one and two both despised my dancing. I was told it was too provocative. That I moved my hips in a way that got me compared to Shakira. So—it was shut down. Forbidden.

I tried to adjust. Tried to learn “acceptable” ways. But I’ve never fit in a box. None of me does.

One night, one of my husbands refused to dance with me. I went to the bathroom at the bar, came back out—and he was dancing with my best friend. She had no idea. I never blamed her. But it broke something in me.

Over time, between both marriages, that part of me disappeared.

Even after both divorces, friends would try to get me back out on the dance floor. I always refused. I had lost my confidence. Lost my spirit for it.

A couple decades later, I found myself deep in healing work—learning, researching, exploring. Desperate for answers during a health crisis.

I went deeper into things I had touched on as a kid—spirit animals, shamanic practices, reading, listening, learning.

When a spirit animal comes to you, through dreams, ceremony, meditation, there’s an exchange. You feed them, in a sense. Offer energy. What that looks like is different for everyone.

Well… universe/God has a sense of humor.

Three specific animals came to me. And in order to work with them, I was shown I needed to move. Physically. Through specific movements.

Sounds easy, right? Just dance it out.

Nope.

There was too much psychological damage tied to movement. It took me about four years to even begin breaking through that.

I tried everything else first, every western approach I was told would fix what I was dealing with. Nothing worked.

Until I started moving.

At first, behind closed doors. In the shower. Then in the house when no one was home.

And slowly… things shifted. I started improving.

So everything I had been shown? Wasn’t so far-fetched.

Not that I doubted but I learned the hard way not to question certain things. That’s a story for another day. Maybe.

Even then, I still couldn’t dance in public. Years of ridicule stick.

But I knew—on a deeper level—that this was part of my healing. Not optional. Necessary.

That’s where Zandra came in.

We had talked about my journey from the beginning. When we first met, she was doing Reiki, Qoya came later. She trained, got excited, and wanted to share it with me.

Timing didn’t line up at first. And that’s fine. Things land when they’re supposed to.

Then I finally went.

I invited Chick. She hasn’t been exposed to a lot of what I’ve explored, so I was excited for her to experience it.

We walked into a yoga studio. The space was dialed in, lighting, energy, everything. Zandra had a beautiful altar set in the center. Twelve of us in a circle, plus her.

All women. Different ages. Different bodies. Different stories.

Normally, I feel like an outcast in all-women spaces.

Not here.

I felt… at home.

I watched women move in ways that felt right for them. No performance. No pressure. Just truth in motion.

Got one hell of a workout too.

I watched Chick take it in for the first time learning about the altar, the meaning behind it. I watched her let go of grief in real time. I won’t speak too much on her experience but witnessing it mattered.

For me, I understand intention. I understand why things are structured the way they are, why music is chosen, what it’s meant to move.

That night, my work was simple:

Get out of my own way.

And I did.

For the first time in decades, I danced in public. Freely. Openly. Spiritually.

And it felt like something massive lifted.

Not the end of something,

The beginning of something new.

Now, reality check.

I overdid it.

I’m only four months out from bone/spine surgery, and I pushed too far. It set me back a bit.

Meanwhile, Chick the 68-year-old badass was up and moving before I was the next day.

My experience is mine.

Everyone in that circle had their own. Different pasts. Different needs. Different takeaways.

Not everyone walks in with spirit animals asking to be fed. And that’s only a fraction of my story anyway.

Movement, for me, ties into a lot. Too much to unpack here.

But the core of it is simple:

Movement matters.

Movement heals.

Ceremony heals.

Expression heals.

And everyone takes what they need when they’re ready.

I’m excited for what’s ahead.

Grateful beyond measure for the experience.

And I highly fucking recommend people try it.

At least once.

Watching others heal—including one of my closest friends—and watching a leader step fully into her role with grace…

That part alone was worth it.

Much Love and Gratitude

Alice