Rep. Gray is Encouraging Alabama to Be Biparti-Zen

By Future Caucus

This article is adapted from Alabama State Representative Jeremy Gray’s interactive workshop, “Policy in Motion: Yoga, Lawmaking, & Cultural Persuasion,” presented at SXSW EDU in Austin, Texas on March 9, 2026.

When you hear the word “Alabama,” certain images probably come to mind. When you see State Representative Jeremy Gray—a Black man, with a Southern accent, who played professional football—there are probably a few assumptions layered on top of that as well. While some people assume that where you are from tells them what you believe, or how you think, Gray wants to complicate that picture.

Gray, who represents the 83rd district in the Alabama House of Representatives, is more than just a former professional football player. He’s also a former yoga instructor, personal trainer, and has been plant-based for over 10 years. Gray doesn’t fit neatly into the box that people might expect, and neither does his home state.

The real Alabama, as Gray described it, is a state with extraordinary assets. Alabama is home to aerospace and defense innovation in Huntsville, healthcare and biotech research in Birmingham, state of the art ships in Mobile, some of the most historic HBCUs in the country, and leadership in agriculture and manufacturing,

“This Alabama exists,” Gray said. “Even if it doesn’t always make the headlines.”

Alabama is also a state of deep contradictions, he noted. The state’s landscape includes the First White House of the Confederacy as well as the final steps of the march from Selma to Montgomery, and Robert E. Lee and Martin Luther King Jr. share the same holiday.

“That tension—between pride and pain, tradition and transformation—isn’t abstract,” Gray said. “It shapes how people understand change. And it shapes what kinds of policies feel acceptable or threatening.”

Despite the state’s many assets, Alabama ranks 45th out of 50 states in overall quality of life. As a result, many young people believe they have to leave the state to find success, an assumption that shapes Alabama policy. Thus, for Gray, the only way to encourage action is to challenge assumptions. 

When Gray was first elected, he visited a local high school for career day. Gray expected to do what he always does: to inspire, to encourage, and to give teenagers hope for what their future could look like in Alabama. On this particular visit, however, Gray learned something that stopped him cold. Just before Gray was supposed to lead students in a relaxing yoga break to relieve them from the pressures of being a teenager, a teacher pulled him aside and said that yoga was banned.

Not discouraged. Not limited. Banned. 

“I had just moved back home because I believed in this place,” Gray said. “And in that moment, I caught myself second-guessing that decision.”

Yoga was banned in Alabama public schools in 1993 by the State Board of Education. Their concern wasn’t about cost or fitness. It was fear. The Board of Education was concerned about yoga’s ties to Eastern religion, and that its meditation or guided imagery could alter children’s minds.

As a young, brand-new lawmaker with immense hope for the future of his state, Gray realized when he entered the legislature that he had an opportunity to make a difference at the intersection of his two passions. In April 2019, Gray introduced his first bill as a legislator: a bill to reverse the yoga ban. Almost immediately, Gray faced organized opposition. 

Gray’s opposition took a page out of the Board of Education’s book, framing yoga as demonic religious indoctrination. In a legislature where nearly everyone identifies as Christian, their campaign deemed yoga an “existential cultural threat.” 

To combat this misinformation, Gray took on a different role from his professional football days as a cornerback, and played offense. While his first legislative attempt never made it to the floor, Gray spent the rest of the legislative session through the start of the next one focusing on coalition-building. He met people where they were, patiently debunking misinformation, and the world took notice. Lawmakers, doctors, yogis, parents, faith leaders, and news outlets started reaching out to Gray to share their perspectives. 

Gray also enlisted the help of two lawmakers who quietly helped him navigate a Republican supermajority chamber, and take apart the opposition before fear solidified their opinions. One was Tom Whatley, the Republican state senator representing Gray’s home district. Gray had built a close relationship with Whatley after joining the legislature. As a result of their personal connection, politics aside, Whatley was key to resurrecting Gray’s bill in the Senate Judiciary Committee. 

In March 2020, after months of encouraging his colleagues to put fear aside, ask questions, and actually listen to the answers, Gray’s bill passed the Alabama House of Representatives with an overwhelming majority. While the COVID-19 pandemic was another momentum-killer, it also shifted the narrative around mental health as Alabama invested tens of millions into student wellbeing during the crisis. 

With everyone stuck at home, yoga became practical—not demonic—and in 2021 Alabama’s yoga ban was finally lifted. As Governor Ivey signed the bill into law, she ended her statement with “Namaste,” a political move that would have been unheard of just years before, and technically remains illegal today, as sanskrit words are still prohibited from being used during yoga instruction. 

For Gray, this process was an incredible learning experience. He learned that facts alone are not enough to persuade people. Instead, Gray had to work within the cultural context of the Alabama legislature, employing curiosity and empathy to understand what motivates his colleagues, in order to eventually earn their support for this critical—and, many would argue, long overdue—initiative. Gray learned to ask questions and challenge assumptions, including the ones others held about him, to find common ground. 

“Yoga didn’t just win here,” Gray said. “Listening did. Humility did. And, maybe most importantly, students did.”