Who gets to be ‘well’? Race, class, and the wellness industry

The UK wellness industry is booming – valued at over £180 billion and growing faster than any other wellness market in Europe. But beneath the surface of spa retreats and mindfulness apps lies a deeper issue. The wellness space is often exclusive and whitewashed, leaving behind the communities most impacted by systemic stress and trauma.

Wellness as a commodity

From single-use bath bombs selling for £7.50 to luxury yoga studios to £50 crystal-infused water bottles – wellness is frequently sold as a lifestyle, one that requires disposable income, cultural fluency and a certain aesthetic. The imagery tells all: slim women meditating in minimalist spaces; influencers touting supplements; self-care routines that cost more than a weekly shop; retreats in Bali priced like luxury holidays.

Black and Asian communities in the UK are disproportionately affected by mental health challenges yet are less likely to access support. And the statistics prove it:

• Black people are four times more likely to be detained under the Mental Health Act than white people
• Only 6% of UK therapists identify as Black or Asian, despite these groups making up over 14% of the population
• According to recent DEI research, 72% of marginalised groups report feeling underserved by current wellness services.

This disconnect between need and access is compounded by class. Wellness offerings – from therapy to fitness – are often priced out of reach for low-income households, despite the fact that people in deprived areas report significantly lower wellbeing scores.

Navigating wellness spaces from the margins

For many people from marginalised backgrounds, wellness spaces can feel unwelcoming or alienating. Workshops often speak of trauma without acknowledging the impact of racism, poverty, or systemic injustice. Wellness content can feel disconnected, offering surface-level solutions to deeply rooted struggles.

There’s also a subtle pressure to conform – to speak in affirmations, to “manifest” abundance. An unspoken expectation to “heal” in a way that’s palatable: quiet, individualistic and free from political context. But what if your trauma is collective? What if your stress is shaped by generational hardship, discrimination, or economic instability?

When wellness ignores these realities, it risks becoming performative, offering comfort to the privileged while erasing the lived experiences of those most in need of care. In the UK, where health inequalities are stark and access to support varies dramatically by postcode, class, and ethnicity, this exclusion is especially visible.

Toward inclusive, community-based healing

True wellness needs to be accessible, culturally relevant and community driven. Here are a few ways we can move toward that:

• Sliding scale and free offerings: Therapy, yoga and workshops priced with equity in mind.
• Culturally competent care: Practitioners who understand the nuances of race, gender and class.
• Community spaces: Peer support groups and grassroots initiatives that centre marginalised voices.
• Decolonised wellness: Honouring the origins of practices and resisting appropriation.
• Representation in leadership: More marginalised practitioners, educators and decision-makers shaping the industry.

Athletes like Simone Biles and Naomi Osaka have challenged the myth of invincibility often placed on Black women. Public figures like Munroe Bergdorf and Dr. Radha Modgil have helped shift the narrative by speaking openly about mental health and inclusion. They all remind us that wellness isn’t weakness – it’s resistance. Good mental health and “wellness” shouldn’t be a privilege – it should be a right. As we critique the industry’s blind spots, we must also build new models rooted in care, justice and community.