In this state of vulnerability, it is absolutely critical that students feel safe. Teachers, like therapists or educators in other fields, have an inherent power, which can be used to either heal or exploit. But because it is also easy to conflate the goodness of yoga with the teachers themselves, instructors can benefit from an aura of ethical conduct, or even holiness — what some call a spiritual blanket that protects those who abuse their power. While it is up to students to discern between teacher and teachings, those in authority have a responsibility to protect.

According to the 2016 Yoga in America survey co-sponsored by Yoga Journal and Yoga Alliance — the largest nonprofit in the United States representing the yoga community and providing teacher-training requirements — there are 36.7 million yoga practitioners nationwide, 72 percent of them women. Though Yoga Alliance has published a bullet-point code of conduct, few know it exists until they are explicitly looking, and by then it may be too late.

I have personally seen things go wrong. Early in my practice I became involved with a meditation teacher and learned, after the breakup, that he had dated students serially. I lost my community. I’ve received inappropriate sexual Facebook messages from well-respected teachers and have had my bottom slapped (not an adjustment) in a balancing pose. Though these actions are not as serious as the egregious behavior Mr. Choudhury and others have been accused of, they provided a personal window into the hurt and confusion crossed boundaries can create.

Yoga transformed my life: healing a back injury, giving me tools to work with my anxiety and providing a spiritual home. Had it not, I would have quit. Some victims have quit, and face years of trauma from what should have been a refuge from the hurt of life: spiritual practice. This sort of violation denotes rape on many levels: spiritually, mentally, emotionally and, yes, sometimes physically.

When I began teaching yoga at an all-girls charter school in Lower Manhattan, we took the first class to create a “yoga contract.” Girls from 5 to 12 years old brainstormed and signed lists of rules to “keep everyone safe and happy” during practice. Rules they themselves invented included “respect others’ space” and “use active listening.” As the teacher, I signed, too. We ended each class with a Sanskrit chant that translates to, “The one true teacher lives in the center of your heart.” I wanted these young girls to know, though teachers are helpful guides, the one true authority is inside of them. I wanted them to carry this lesson forward into their adult yoga world as women. Mr. Choudhury and others like him could learn plenty from these girls.