Being Black and Buddhist

BLACK AND BUDDHIST: WHAT BUDDHISM CAN TEACH US ABOUT RACE, RESILIENCE, TRANSFORMATION, AND FREEDOM. Edited by Pamela Ayo Yetunde and Cheryl A. Giles. Boulder, CO: Shambhala Publications, 2020Pp. 189. $19.95. The anthology Black & Buddhist begins with a tribute, “In Honor of George Floyd, which recounts the merciless torture that culminated in the murder of an unarmed Black man in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on May 25, 2020. This egregious violation of human rights, captured in vivid videos, began to circulate almost immediately around the world and powerfully' “shocked the conscience of humanity,” igniting weeks of outrage and protests (xi). With penetrating insight, Yetunde and Giles thus set the stage for a rich and varied discussion of race through Black and Buddhist eyes, recounting historical highlights of racism in the United States and the apathy and ignorance that were shattered in eight minutes for millions of viewers. Against this backdrop, the editors unfurl some of the important themes that serve as links between Buddhism and the experience of persecuted and marginalized peoples. The most obvious link is the suffering of dehumanization and hatred that Black people perpetually endure. “By watching Black and brown bodies die by police violence without resistance, we slowly die too. We take in resignation, despair, depression, self-denial, and self-effacement, and our bodies become bloated by powerlessness,” they write (xv). Further, they link the Buddhist practice of satipattana, mindfulness of breathing, with Floyd's repeated cries of “I can't breathe.” Emphasizing the intimacy and immediacy of the simple act of breathing, they say, “Our resistance to oppression is our right to breathe freely. … In honor of George Floyd and countless others, we vow to breathe. We breathe for the well-being of all sentient beings” (xv). They conclude with a dedication of merit, aspiring to use the “gifts of Buddhist practice” for the benefit of others (xv). Gaylon Ferguson, in the book's Foreword, identifies suffering as the origin of both the Black experience in America and the teachings of the Buddha—a common denominator that generates a deep commitment to healing and liberation. He likens the book to a “feast of inspiration and insight, tenderness and truth, courage and compassion …, a message of peace, a strong peace with justice and dignity,” offering an alternative means of dealing with “experiences of fear, anxiety, worry, and despair” (xvii). Ferguson reflects meaningfully on each chapter of the book, giving the reader a preview of the feast that lies ahead. He directly raises some contested issues, such as Lama Dawa Tarchin Phillips' contention that the liberated mind is beyond color. This assertion is analogous to the parallel claim that the liberated mind is beyond gender. Certainly, liberation does not literally erase color, nor does liberation erase gender. Even though a liberated mind is presumed to be beyond the limitations and biases of prejudice toward skin tone and gender, in the socialization process, including injustices encountered on the ground, color and gender matter very much. Dawa Tarchin Phillips concurs, recognizing the importance of dealing with feelings of trauma and shame encountered in one's personal experience, especially “feelings of inadequacy, unworthiness, and shame,” as Jan Willis discovered (xviii). As several contributors suggest, solidarity with compassionate Dharma friends who share similar hurtful or traumatic life experiences can be a major factor in healing. In their Introduction, Yetunde and Giles present an analysis of Buddhist principles alongside African slave history to explain how Buddhist practices may be relevant to the experience of African Americans. They begin by observing that “Buddhism emerged from a caste-oriented culture in which a powerful man of color renounced his power, woke up to his delusions, grew in compassion, and committed himself to teaching a way of life for all to awaken … a path to de-caste or decolonize one's mind while simultaneously helping oneself build resilience against trauma” (1). Their aim is to explore how these practices can be applied in exploitative capitalist societies to nurture spiritually integrated human beings, especially in the face of trauma. To do this, they examine the experience of trauma, which in the Buddhist context inevitably entails a discussion of self and no-self, soul and no-soul, landing on an understanding of the interdependence of all beings as key to resilience. The Buddha may not have used the language of trauma, but his primary realization, the First Noble Truth, reveals the essence of suffering, the trauma of life itself. The book hinges on one central fact: “There is a trauma of being alive and there is a trauma of being alive while Black” (13). In Chapter 1, Cheryl A Giles unpacks the uncomfortable topic of sexual violence in the history, myths, and memories of enslaved peoples and the multiple intergenerational traumas that have resulted. As a clinical psychologist working with traumatized individuals and their families, she began to understand the effects of unresolved trauma in her own and her patients' thoughts, feelings, and bodily sensations. She developed a way to use that pain as a pathway to healing. Through stories and sharing her own family history, she makes the case that remembering the brutal history of enslavement and sexual violence is necessary for liberating oneself from intergenerational trauma. Giles' personal experience of working with profound grief at a Buddhist retreat demonstrates the effectiveness of the healing methods, insights, and benefits of mindfulness meditation that she learned for confronting distress. Chapter 1 also includes a review of the history of the #MeToo movement and the remarkable work of Tarana Burke, its founder. Using the practice of attention, deep listening, and the power of connection, Burke worked through her own experience of sexual trauma to become an ally and resource for countless others. In Chapter 2, “The Dharma of Trauma,” Lama Rod Owens tells of his experience with ayahuasca, a potent hallucinogenic plant used in traditional healing rituals. He recounts going to the Peruvian Amazon to mourn and let go of the first 40 years of his life, approaching the experience of purging with pure intention. Trauma, he says, is “an experience that knocks you out of your body and makes it difficult to return”; for slave-descended folk like himself, it is “a demon that possesses” (47–48). In ordinary terms, his Blackness is a source of trauma, grief, and rage, but as a Buddhist practitioner, he recognizes the dilemma of identity: “I want my Blackness to be supported by my dharma practice, not erased by it” (47). Linking the narratives of liberation, sorrow, and love from the Bible and the Buddha's teachings, Owen pays tribute to the ancestors and offers a prayer that all beings in the world be free. Sebene Selassie takes an inward journey in Chapter 3, “Turning Toward Myself.” She describes her experience growing up as a Habesha (Ethiopian/Eritrean) teenager in Washington, DC, and as a religious studies major at McGill University in Montreal. Interrogating concepts of race, religion, ethnicity, and Black racialization, she ultimately focuses on the question of how Blackness and Buddhism in tandem taught her to turn away from self-rejection and (re)turn to herself. She explains that turn as a natural evolution: “Now I see how my longing for meaning was stirred by my discontent. That dis-ease sparked a search that led to Buddhism and Blackness” (81). She concurs with Toni Morrison that racism is a distraction that diverts attention from one's work, for example, a sense of belonging “like a tumbleweed” (81). In Chapter 4, titled Belonging, Lama Dawa Tarchin Phillips also focuses on themes of human belonging and connection. He shares his journey and his ideas for reintegrating with lost parts of ourselves within the human family: “the different faces, races, and creeds—we are striding through this planet like the walking wounded. … The inner signs of this amputated state are isolation, meaninglessness, loneliness, and depression. The outer signs are hatred, division, and violence” (85–86). Phillips came to the realization that in order to help heal the planet, he needed to deepen his relationship with humanity and the Earth. He became convinced that “In our liberated mind, we are free; we are beyond color” (92). In “Voluntary Segregation” (Chapter 5), Pamela Ayo Yetunde reflects on her experiences of practicing and teaching in white Buddhist community settings. She reveals that initially, she was strongly opposed to the idea of People of Color (POC) or racially segregated communities, mirroring resistance from certain white participants. Despite a number of unpleasant experiences in white centers, being treated as “invisible, incompetent, or unworthy of empathy” (103), she persevered, using these experiences to gather insights into herself. For years, she took refuge in sitting alone (internalized apartheid?), until she eventually discovered solidarity in POC and LGBTQ communities. From years of being “othered,” she developed a strong practice of loving, kindness, and compassion, plus a wealth of wisdom about insecurity, intention, the dynamics of living in racist societies, and the need to decolonize Buddhism to help build healthier spiritual communities. In Chapter 6, Gyōzan Royce Andrew Johnson shares an unlikely (but perfectly understandable) transition: “From Butcher to Zen Priest.” His transition was triggered by a life-threatening cut while washing dishes; the nightmarish pain of emergency treatment and close contact with dying patients sparked a major reality check. Johnson emerged from these traumas determined not to squander his life. His first encounter with meditation some months later was hilariously scary. He feared that the Sri Lankan monks he met could read his mind; “The unexamined mind of a black butcher!” (123). After a year of Buddhist practice, however, he began to see Zen as medicine and also protection against police brutality. In the next chapter, “On Being Lailah's Daughter,” Kamilah Majied tells the story of growing up with anxiety and many different types of grief, even while blessed with the encouraging support of a loving mother. All living beings experience the anxiety of simply being alive, but living with the anxiety of being alive while Black is more so. Majied learned to welcome her trembling heart, fears, and sorrows through her mother, who advised her to welcome struggle, all the while singing Billy Holiday's “Good Morning Heartache.” Her mother's Buddhist practice and wisdom for transforming suffering laid the scaffolding for her own resilience. In the final chapter, “Wholeness is No Trifling Matter,” Ruth King examines the psychology of resistance to racism, both as personally experienced and as institutionally embedded. While professionally successful, she was full of rage at systemic injustice, and baffled by how it would all end. Early one morning in Cochin, South India, a chance encounter with His Holiness the Dalai Lama transformed her world. Profoundly moved, she thought, “In this flawed world, it is possible to look upon others with pure heartedness and acceptance” (160). Another chance encounter led her to Spirit Rock Meditation Center and years of intensive meditation practice, which culminated in her being recognized as a Buddhist teacher. The years of dedicated practice have not eliminated racial distress, which she calls “the wounds of separation,” but turning inward through mindfulness meditation has led to freedom from intense anger and fear. An understanding of the cycle of misperception has helped heal her conditioned judgments. These are righteous steps on the path of the bodhisattva, a being devoted to freeing others from suffering. Each contributor to this volume has awakened to the truth of suffering in their own way. Each has engaged, intellectually and viscerally, in confronting the pain of racism in their personal lives and in society. They speak as Buddhist teachers, mental health therapists, academics, meditation practitioners, and activists. They speak in honest, heartfelt voices about the experiences that led them to Buddhist practice and how the teachings have been liberating in facing the scars of racial hatred, violence, and ignorance. Their stories are priceless gifts for eradicating preconceptions and waking the rest of us up. While the personal narratives in Black and Buddhist may be best appreciated by those who have suffered or witnessed the brutality and painful wounds of racism, they may have an equally powerful impact on those who have not experienced what it feels like to be oppressed, despised, and ignored. The voices of those who have opened their hearts about “living while Black” cut through the darkness of ignorance about racial injustice. These deeply meaningful lessons from the lives of distinguished African American Buddhist teachers enrich our understanding of racism and the liberating effects of Buddhist practice. This collection is a major contribution and a tribute to creating an inclusive Buddhism.

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