Baptiste Power Yoga Boston — Local services in Brookline

Avoid: arrogant, cultish, and unwelcoming. Smells like human urea and a dog kennel. You’ll trip over 2-3 unsupervised dogs with no idea whom they belong to — and these are pets of other clients, not service animals or brought by instructors. Not a leash in sight, and you can count on being licked without consent.

“Leave class feeling sweaty and covered with dog fur and allergens!”

After attending maybe two dozen classes each with 2-3 unknown dogs, I requested the moderate accommodation that these pets be leashed when the studio was in use. This request was initially granted and then immediately rescinded because I have a disability that wasn’t a “good fit for Baptiste”.

It was impossible to understand their policy on disability protections, service animals, or hygiene requirements for public spaces. When asked about it, management told me to leave and not come back. I’ve filed reports with the relevant discrimination offices, but the owners of this studio frankly couldn’t care less about their clients’ well being.

The two creepy male instructors touch way too much without consent or request. I have had to verbally request and then physically remove an instructors hand from my body. Instructors have also spoken passionately about how this practice has alleviated substance abuse problems and anger management. These personality flaws are not so well hidden. I’ve been physically threatened by the owner of the studio and I don’t really enjoy hearing curse words during my practice.

The other instructors are better for the most part: middle-aged and sticking to a well established program.

The clientele is unintimidating, normal looking Boston-suburb mid professionals 30s-50s old. There’s a lot of noisy chatter and Bob Marley to set the tone before class starts…. If that’s your thing.

One amusing part of these classes: yoga instructors without any medical training hold forth at length about pseudoscience like “sweating out toxins” snd “healing bones”. I’ve noticed other doctors try to stifle their giggles.

Facilities are minimal and poorly maintained. Enter through a garbage lot, not on Harvard street. Rat droppings can be found on the steam pipes and in basement “changing rooms”. The towel under the water dispenser is stolen from Barry’s Bootcamp. It’s messy.

One star because at a basic level this front operates as a largely successful yoga studio in that classes start (but do not end) on time, there is heating, four walls...

I’ve gone here at least a dozen times, so it’s time to give a complete review. First off, the entrance is not on Harvard Street, but from the rear through a kinda grungy parking lot. Everyone who works there is super friendly, and they do a very good job keeping the place clean. The number one drawback to Baptiste is that they only have one series. It’s not a bad series, in that you will work all of your major muscle groups, get your cardio up a bit, do some core, and also get some spiritual chatter. To that last point, Mark and Brandon do a really great job of keeping the class entertaining with their commentary and observations on life. The other instructors are more by the book. As for the series itself, it works well for beginners, and while they cue a few options for more advanced positions and arm balances, in my opinion, they could do more of that. But really, they need to offer some new classes, perhaps some with music. If they don’t, I think their business will stagnate because students will graduate to more varied and interesting opportunities. That being said, there aren’t very many alternatives, if any, within walking distance of Baptiste, so I might be talking out of my you-know-what. Maybe they could let other instructors come in and use the studio when they don’t have classes? Near the end of the series, there are roughly five minutes awarded to pigeon. This I don’t get unless there is some hidden physiological research that only they know about which makes endlessly holding those positions the secret to everlasting life. A few sidenotes: the room is usually brutally hot. Try to stay away from the window side in the evenings in the summer when the sun comes pouring in. There are no mirrors on the walls and there are no showers or locker rooms. They have some small changing cubicles downstairs; however, the stairwell is steep and slippery, so you are taking your life into your own hands there. Maybe for Chanukah, I’ll surprise them with some non-slip tape to put down? So bottom line: if you’ve never done yoga, Baptiste would be a great place to start. If you’re more experienced, try them out but you will likely need...

In the quiet folds of Brookline, where the trees lean like old philosophers and the wind carries the scent of distant oceans, there exists a studio that does not announce itself with grandeur, but with gravity. Boston Baptiste Yoga is a place where time slows, where breath becomes language, and where the body remembers what the mind has long forgotten.

There are no mirrors here. And rightly so—for what is seen in this space cannot be captured by glass. The reflection is inward, cast not by light but by heat—heat that rises from the floor like a benevolent spirit, wrapping itself around each practitioner with the intimacy of a whispered truth.

It is not the heat of discomfort, but of transformation. It softens the sinews, unknots the soul, and invites the heart to speak.

The teachers move through the room like quiet prophets, their voices steady, their presence grounding.

They do not instruct—they invoke.

With each cue, they summon strength from places you did not know existed.

Their dedication is not performative; it is sacred.

They are keepers of a lineage that values sweat as sacrament and stillness as revelation.

The yoga practiced here is not merely physical—it is elemental.

It is the fire that purifies, the air that expands, the earth that steadies, the water that flows through every breath.

Each posture is a story, each transition a pilgrimage.

You do not simply move—you journey.

You do not simply stretch—you awaken.

And when the class ends, and the silence settles like dust on ancient books, you rise—not as you were, but as something more.

You step into the Brookline evening with a softness in your gaze and a quiet thunder in your chest, knowing that you have touched something eternal.

Boston Baptiste Yoga is not a studio.

It is a sanctuary.

A place where the body is honored, the spirit is stirred, and the practice is nothing...