Why Blacks Choose Buddhism

Every now and then, an article appears that points to the shifting spiritual climate in the African American community. Another such article was published last month in the Los Angeles Wave. The article does not bring forth a fresh perspective (I'm not really suggesting that it should)... instead it recapitulates the same themes that run through similar articles.

First, Andrea Joseph-Conley speaks to why the transition from Church to Sangha can be difficult for African Americans:

“I think that they are afraid to change from what they’ve been doing in the past because of the social structure,” said the 53-year-old Los Angeles resident. “All the friends and family, the support groups are based in church. It would be like in the pioneering days, to be out on the frontier by yourself.”

Later comes a statement that perhaps speaks to the number of African Americans practicing Nichiren. A bit more research could have uncovered that all Buddhists don't necessarily chant the Lotus Sutra (or it's title) as part of their practice:

The second aspect of the Buddhist religion — practice — is achieved by chanting daily “Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo.”

Then it closes with an opinion about Christianity and Christians expressed by one of the author's interviewees:

“As far as Christianity and Christians, I think they’re hard to find,” she said. “I know there are churches on every corner, but I think true Christians are hard to find. [And] it’s hard to address [Christianity], because [Christians] really are hard to find.”

I don't have much commentary. Just thought I'd share the article so those who may be interested can read for themselves.

So, It's a Black Thing? v. 2

The discussion continues. Yesterday, I posted a message in the Black Buddhists Yahoo! group asking bloggers (if they are out there) to let me know about their blogs. I included a link to a past entry, Blogging while Black (and Buddhist). A couple of comments have been posted there regarding the more recent post So, It's a Black Thing?. In fact, Choyin, the author of Black Buddha: A Diversity Perspective, stopped by to share his thoughts. An excerpt:

Let's us be free of the shackles of racial separateness that has so plagued our human love and compassion for one another. We are one, and have always been. To think of one's self as having a lineage stemming from Africa is not a curse; rather it is liberation into a truth that eradicates pigment as a point of difference.

I have not read Choyin's book. Though I can't speak for him with any authority, I think this excerpt points to the intent of his book. If an understanding of anthropology can bring people closer together, causing them to see themselves as more similar than different, I'm all for it. Personally, I think we can connect more to our similarities by looking at our minds and hearts. That belief is one of the reasons why I tltled my blog "Zen Under the Skin." Bodies and their pigments are both similar and different. I think we find more sameness in what's going on under the skin.

So, It's a Black Thing?

Today, I picked up a copy of the Summer 2005 issue of Buddhadharma magazine. Two of the pieces published this month deal in some way with Black Buddhists and diversity in practice centers.

In Legitimate Heirs, Not Invited Guests, Rebecca Walker reviews Choyin Rangdrol's self-published book Black Buddha: A Diversity Perspective. I was familiar with the book, as I am marginally familiar with Choyin Rangdrol. I have skimmed his website, and provide a link to it on the "Resources for Black Buddhists" page on this site. Like Rebecca was before an apparent change of heart, I am somewhat skeptical of Rangdrol's work. In her book review, she states:

When I first read Black Buddha, I was skeptical. I found it too close to Afrocentricity, which itself is an expression of cultural bias. And then there was the fact that I didn't feel alienated from Buddhism, and I had my malas and pashminas to prove it.

I have not read Rangdrol's book. In fact, before reading Rebecca's review I was probably completely closed to the idea of reading it. The book's premise felt like a distraction... a controversy that would not add to my practice. From what I understood, Rangdrol was attempting to set forth an Asa Hilliard-like hypothesis that the founders of Buddhism were as much African as they were Indian or Asian. Browsing his site a couple of years ago, I wondered... Could there be some truth to the hypothesis? I also asked myself... What difference would it make?

I've studied the African diaspora. I also had college courses that delved into the origin of man and explored the academics... the science that suggests that humankind came forth out of Africa. I found it all fascinating. Yet it concerns me when people use these facts as arguments for the "Africanization" (yes, I believe I just made that word up) of all things. I don't agree with the argument that because the human story began in Africa, all things are African. I don't believe it is practical to suggest that African Americans should feel that they are legitimate heirs to the Dharma because the people of India who founded Buddhism may have had some ancestral connection to Africans. The argument seems to assume that Buddha intended the Dharma for people who were just like him, that the legitimate heirs to Buddha's Dharma were people that had to look like him. This is problematic on so many levels. Even the most basic accounts of the life of the Buddha refute these notions.

I'm concerned that people seem to want to transpose Afrocentricity and Buddhism. I'm worried. If the goal of this juxtaposition is to increase diversity in the sangha, I question the wisdom of the approach. We are, all of us in this human realm, legitimate heirs to the Dharma. We don't need to extrapolate anthropological connections to make our connection to the Dharma more real or substantial than it already is. Let's not make Buddhism an African thing, an Asian thing, a thing for middle-class White Americans, a Black thing, or any other thing that does not embrace or celebrate everything.

What does interest me about Rangdrol's book after reading Walker's review is his "personal story of finding liberation through the dharma." Isn't that what the dharma is really about... learning to free ourselves from suffering? Can't we just leave it there? Isn't that enough?

Meeting Faith

Sunday was the best day! It all started with the Dharma talk at Still Point delivered by Faith Adiele (pronounced Ah dee eh lay) on her recently published memoir Meeting Faith: The Forest Journals of a Black Buddhist Nun.

Reading her book, I was never quite sure where anthropology ended and spirituality began. Faith is clear about the fact that she chose the path of ordination more to resurrect her academic career after a failed semester at Harvard than for any other reason. She mentions that she was raised Unitarian, and that religion was important in her upbringing mainly as cultural information.

It is simply amazing that she moved from being a person who had never meditated before in her life to being planted in the forest practicing in one of the most challenging traditions on the planet for up to fourteen hours a day. It was clear that she took her commitment seriously. She didn't leave or crumble under the pressure whereas other temple visitors did.

Listening to her speak on her life, her family, her work, and this time in her life was a gift and a joy. At the end of her talk we were provided with opportunities to ask questions. I don't know that it would be appropriate for me to transcribe and publish her talk in its entirety. As an alternative, I'm hoping it's okay to share my question and her thoughtful, inspiring response:

Chalip: Through reading your book I was really curious about what you carried from your experience in Thailand into your daily life. Do you still meditate? Are there any parts of the practices that you learned or that you did there that you're still doing? How has it informed who you are right now?

Faith: That again has been a journey as well... Sometimes I go in and out... When I first came back it was very painful for me to meditate because I just wasn't someone who had had a practice here and then had intensified it there... I only knew crazy overachieving multi-tasking American life and then total ordination in an intensive meditation retreat center and so when I came back I didn't know how to put the two together. I was very, very overwhelmed. The best I could do in sitting meditation in America was to maybe not kill my boss that week. That was it in terms of peacefulness. But I would be sad because I knew I could be going so much deeper doing all this other stuff [from] before so I looked for other things... yoga, art work... other things that kind of brought my implements in. I would say the biggest shift for me was how I did my political work. Whereas before I think there had been a sense of urgency and outrage and being wounded and doing it out of "I'm really in pain about the injustices in the world," and "This is why we need to do stuff," and "You're not as committed as I am, there's something wrong with you..." I was just going to burn myself out, so learning to shift and to do that sort of work out of love and out of trying to connect with people who were different from me, trying to find a way to be politically active that's sustaining and so that you are imagining a better world so you're not doing it out of despair but out of love, peace and joy... So that was easier to do, to return to politics but in a mindful way rather than have the focus be on spirituality. And then there was a time when I had to put my art first. Like, was I going to continue to run non-profits and try to write on the weekends, give up all my vacations, get up at 5:00 in the morning and try to write and always feel that I wasn't doing enough for the cause... Or could I trust myself enough to believe that through writing I could be contributing to the world and that that was my political and social mission. So at some point I had to put the writing first, the art first, and then learn how to do that in a mindful way... How can you find spirituality in your artistic work or in how you care for people. There was a a moment then when I had to go through my Rolodex and say "Who feeds me/who doesn't feed me," who do I really want to take care of. Because, as your friends get older they go through harder things with their parents. There was a time earlier this year when I was cooking for five people in my town because they had all lost parents... so I'm rushing home, making casserole... making casserole... driving around town... so you have to decide where you want to put your efforts. it's always ongoing trying to remind myself what I learned, that I do have power, and then where I want to put that energy. Since writing the book, the opportunities for sitting have come back. Again, because there are more people there's not just Tina Turner now there's a whole bunch of us... So I've been able to come back to that which is a really fantastic benefit from the book that I hadn't expected.

I loved this response for several reasons... Hearing Faith speak, you get the sense that her temporary ordination was just something she did a long time ago that was somewhat embarrassing and that she didn't talk about it for a long time. It seems that her current experience (writing the book, speaking about it) is very empowering... at least I hope it is.

I also loved what she said because really we all just need to know that wherever we are with our practice is okay. We might go off for a weekend retreat then find it hard to bring that practice back to our daily lives... But meditation is really only one way to practice... Being Buddhist is not just about sitting in lotus position contemplating breath, mantra, or mindfulness. We can give of ourselves and make a difference in so many ways. It's really true... It's all a matter of where we want to place our focus and where we want to put our energy.

Blogging while Black (and Buddhist)

I've been on the lookout for blogs by or about Black Buddhists. This evening, my inbox yielded a warm message from the author of Kiamsha.com... a relatively new blog by a Buddhist-leaning (and all-around spiritual) sista from DC who loves the word "groovy".

One of the first Blogging while Black and Buddhist (BwBB) sites I found was Serene Dharma, where dear sista Serenity speaks on life in general.

There are some brothers out there representing... The Republic of T by Terrence which hails a Buddhism category in RSS, and Steps Along the Path by Nirodha from the UK who practices Jhana.

There are other BwB blogs out there that might be written by Buddhists. They are mostly political blogs with a few sprinklings of Buddhism here and there. They just don't say enough for me to classify them as BwBB blogs.

Is anyone else out there? Come on people, give me a shout. I want to read your blog!

It All Comes Down to Ending Suffering

Several weeks ago, zhana26 posted a question on the Black Buddhists Yahoo! group inspired by an article that attempts to explain why Black people are turning to Buddhism. Her question:

How did you come to Buddhism?

This prompted a great deal of discussion, which I encourage you to read first-hand. The article suggests that Black people come to Buddhism through Tina Turner and pop culture. It even gets more insulting:

Turner's story of going from poverty to selling 50 million albums worldwide inspires a population entrapped by poverty and abusive relationships.

Let me preface this by saying that I love Tina Turner. I admire her courage and am moved by her story. My goal is not to diss her. I guess I just feel the need to point out a few facts for the clueless journalist that threw this article together...

• The entire African-American population is not entrapped by poverty or abusive relationships
• The entire African-American population is not spiritually moved by an artist's ability to sell 50 million albums
• Black people really do have depth and self-awareness... the underlying reason for our actions is not "the Celebrity made me do it"
• African-Americans have deep spiritual roots that reach back generations... I take issue with being labeled a "culture groping for spiritual understanding"

Unfortunately, this is not the only journalist spouting nonsense about Black Buddhists. While surfing Zen Unbound, I read Tom Armstrong's article Tricycle Gets Ugly. He quotes an article from one of Tricycle's back issues that suggests that a river of subtle racism runs through Buddhist sanghas in the West.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend I can speak for the entire community of Black Buddhists, so I'm not going to speak to whether or not individuals within the African-American Buddhist community have or have not had negative experiences while seeking a Sangha due to racism (blatant or otherwise). I can only speak to my own experience. What I will say is that I think the journalists that have chosen to write about the issue of race/racism in Buddhist communities found a few glowing embers and tried to make a fire. The cynic in me believes that there is a capitalistic urge that drives all of this attention to Black Buddhists... Acknowledge us, and maybe we'll buy more of your publications. I digress...

Black people come to Buddhism for the same reasons that others come to Buddhism in the West. It is often a deeply personal choice inspired by the desire to end deeply personal suffering.

Our country is still plagued by a racial divide. Personally, I believe Buddhist communities and other integrated places of worship are part of the solution not part of the problem. Instead of trying to advocate for the comfort and acceptance of Black Buddhists in predominantly white sanghas, I wish these journalists would attack the larger issue and advocate for the comfort and acceptance of Black people (and all other people) in the world.

Happy Birthday, Martin

Today we celebrate the life of a great man—a visionary, a revolutionary, a philosopher, a change agent, a leader in every sense of the word. Today, we celebrate Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I wish I had a copy of Eyes on the Prize. My daughter is eight years old, and I wonder as I write this if she is old enough to see with her own eyes her history as an American of African decent. I don't remember how old I was when I watched Roots, The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, Glory, or other films that demonstrate the horror and soul-shaking atrocity that befell Black people from slavery to the Civil Rights Movement. Perhaps I was a few years older than she is now when I saw those first images of young Black teenagers marching for peace, fire hoses turned upon them, angry dogs set loose among them. Regardless, I don't think age alone can prepare any of us to see hatred and violence so flippantly enacted against people who have done nothing to provoke a depth of malice that is difficult to understand or comprehend.

I wonder how parents are using this day... this day off of school or work for most of us... to teach their children about King and his legacy. Are they reading the I Have a Dream speech? Are they checking out books from the library and reading them together around the kitchen table? Maybe they are talking about the back story... watching Ghandi... and explaining how his philosophy of non-violent social protest motivated and inspired King and his contemporaries to stand up and do something for change. Maybe they are attending a program in his honor. Maybe they are sleeping in, trying to de-stress, running errands, doing all of the things we find difficult to do from day to day because of the demands our culture places on our time.

I'm looking at the cover of this month's Shambhala Sun magazine. It features a picture of Martin with the caption All We Need is Love.  I just finished reading Charles Johnson's article, The King we Need. I'm in the middle of bell hooks' article Surrendered to Love: King's Legacy. Both hooks and Johnson take this opportunity to stress the significance of love. It reminds me of something Jamie Foxx said on Inside the Actor's Studio yesterday during the Pivot questionnaire. When asked "If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates," he says "I would want God to break down how he came up with love." Johnson and hooks are reminding us that love really is all powerful... that love really can make a difference. Are we listening? Are we really in tune with what Martin's legacy really is?

Johnson suggests that we have forgotten, that we have oversimplified the meaning of his thirty-nine year presence on earth:

Too many of us, especially those born after his assassination thirty seven years ago, see him only in the oversimplified terms of race—as an eloquent, segregation-era "voice of his people," frequently and falsely compared in political conversations with his very different (and philosophically antithetical) contemporary, Malcom X.

This is an article everyone should read... it skips over the popular messages and goes right to the bones... the Letter from a Birmingham Jail... the Drum Major Instinct... the progression of Martin's life and philosophies and how he found ways to make real the deepest convictions of his heart. If we only find ways to let love rule, ignoring at first politics, economics, and focusing instead on the person in front of us... If we only find ways to see each other not as who we are but who we are becomming, we would carry on King's vision and live his legacy, and show our children how it's done. We would fall into that natural progression that he did... starting from a solid spiritual base, moving out to help others, being unsatisfied until somehow we change the world.

I believe it is critical that we continue to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. I believe it is critical that we study him, honor him, appreciate him, resepect him. However I think it is inappropriate for us to wonder what our lives would be like if he remained among us. Jamie Foxx talked about the death of his grandmother... He called her the tool maker, explaining that she "gave him the tools" he needed to handle every situation, every challenge in his life. It would be appropriate for us to see Martin in this light... He was the ultimate tool maker. He gave us the tools. It's up to us to continue to use them.

Why I Blog On Being Black and Buddhist

For about eleven years I studied Buddhism. I listened to taped dharma talks by Thich Naht Hanh, Sharon Salzburg, and Cheri Huber. I read several versions of the Dhammapada and many, many books. I had a haphazard meditation practice that I would start then stop then start again. I attended churches during this time... Unity (which I loved for the inclusive, integrated congregation, and for Marianne Williamson who I deeply appreciate and respect), and the church of my youth. I can't say that I considered myself a Buddhist, but I resonated with the teachings... and I studied them with intense interest and respect.

I never rigorously sought a sangha of my own. I had all these ideas about what Buddhist communities must be like in America... as a woman raised in the A.M.E. church, socialized around Black Greek organizations and their functions, raised to accept that blacks and whites (while attending schools and jobs together) remained largely segregated especially in terms of places of worship. I had all these notions about being the only ink spot in a sea of foreigners or whites sitting on cushions, speaking on the teachings while ignoring my Blackness, my culture, my unique struggles. I have found that I am not alone in having thoughts of this nature:

"There are a lot of black Buddhists who are in the closet. They just don't feel comfortable being part of the great white sangha," says Insight Meditation teacher Ralph Steele. "One of the most common phrases I hear from young black Buddhists when they do step out into the white Buddhist sangha is that they feel uncomfortable." [...from the September 2001 issue of Shambala Sun magazine Something Has to Change: Blacks in American Buddhism by Lawrence Pintak]

My notions, as it turned out, were all wrong. I found an ideal place to practice, where Langston Hughes was quoted in the first dharma talk I witnessed, where there were several other Black people sitting with others of different races, where weekly readings from the Dhammapada were always rendered by a young black woman who locks her hair. Everyone was friendly, welcoming. It felt like home on day one. It is home.

But it is a home where I take refuge once a week. When I leave the dark brown cushions and friendly faces behind, I am thrust back into a world where two kinds of prejudice reside... religious and racial. When I'm around large numbers of people who look like me, I'm a minority. Black people in America are mostly Christian. Beyond taking refuge in their preferred religion, many tend to be very exclusionary when it comes to embracing or accepting other practices or belief systems. So, as Black Buddhists we seek each other out... online, at retreats for people of color, through books written by our contemporaries. Somehow, it helps our practice and builds a dual sense of community when we know that we are not alone.

Why am I making such a big deal about being Black and Buddhist? In and of itself, I don't think it means anything. Why should you care about what a Black woman has to say about practice? I don't think I have anything more valid to say about Zen practice than anyone else. To be Black and Buddhist is no harder (or easier) than it is to be any other color (or gender, for that matter) doing this practice. Before you start e-mailing me, I know all about the treatment of Buddhist nuns in certain Asian countries... I know that ordaining as a female monk is not possible in most parts of the world... I'm not ignoring those facts. What I'm saying is that when we really practice, it's just us and the practice. We aren't women or men, black or white, monks or laypersons. We're doing it, or we're not. The bottom line is that it is hard to sit, hard to remain mindful, hard to practice the precepts, hard to traverse the Eightfold Path. It concerns me that some Blacks continue to do what I did... and refrain from seeking a Sangha for fear that they will be isolated, uncomfortable, or alone.

Why I have no sangha has everything to do with my race, my style of communication, and my social needs. In the depth of vulnerability that sitting evokes in me, I am embarassed and sad that I find it difficult to trust middle-class white people (class is inextricably linked to race), I can like them, enjoy their company, learn from them, and teach them, but very rarely can I manifest the relaxation necessary for spiritual growth in their presence. I hate that this is true... [...from the Summer 2003 issue of Turning Wheel Magazine Breaking Through History: A Dark Reflection on Zen by Michelle T. Clinton]

Which uncovers one of the reasons for this site... to affirm the existence of great communities (including my own... yes, you will find that I shamelessly and gratefully plug my sangha any chance I get) that include people of color in every way... to catalog them and (hopefully) visit as many of them as possible.

[NOTE: This has appeared on the "About" page of this blog since I wrote it in November 2004. I'm planning to update that page but wanted to catalog this for historical purposes, so I'm adding it as a separate entry today (February 1, 2009).]