First Steps on the Path of Liberation for All

Racism in America is one of our nation's collective traumas. 

Racism is a particularly potent form of intersectional oppression that results in disproportionate levels of poverty, incarceration, and suffering for people of color.

We feel the trauma of racism in many different ways depending in part on how we identify. The feelings that arise are dependent on our circumstances, but we all suffer.

Sometimes white people have the courage to turn toward the trauma of race in America. It is common in these moments to feel overwhelmed by the scope and history of the problem and by the intensity of feelings involved. Therefore, even well-meaning white people sometimes neglect the simmering pain caused by racism in America and deny our own complicity. But we pay prices for this, including disconnectedness from the lived experiences of people of color and disconnectedness from our own hearts. 

People of color do not have the same freedom to take breaks from consciousness of racism. Systemic racial oppression affects their daily lives. It is a form of "white privilege" to be able to turn away, though this privilege is also a cause of blindness and isolation.

As Zen practitioners, we are willing to experience great turmoil while seeking liberation for ourselves. In the Gateless Gate, Mumon comments that while working with mu, "If you really want to pass this barrier, you should feel like drinking a hot iron ball that you can neither swallow nor spit out." Many Zen practitioners are ready to endure the fiery intensity of being thrown in the furnace again and again for their own liberation. Should we not also be willing to drink a hot iron ball that we can neither swallow nor spit out for the sake of collective liberation?

We are deeply interwoven. As such, we actually cannot only heal ourselves. We are made of one another as much as we are made of the air we breathe. Our practice must include all beings. 

I like to think that many Zen practitioners aspire to save all beings, but many of us just don't know where to begin when it comes to addressing racism in America. How do we transform our vow into practice? We may need some kind of inroad to engage. 

Fortunately, there are teachers like Rev. angel Kyodo williams pointing the way. I recently read her inspiring and challenging piece, Your Liberation is on the Line. Then I read it again. And again. 

Based on an essay by angel Kyodo williams, here I offer an entry point for white people to practice actively anti-racist meditation. I adapted a few passages from her piece that I found particularly clear, inspiring, and challenging, and I offer a few thoughts on how we might work with them on the cushion and in the world.

I selected a few brief passages that inspire and challenge me as a white person, so I don't claim these are universal instructions for practice. But I hope these pointers offer at least a possible first step for some Zen practitioners to engage in this work of healing ourselves and our wounded society. 

We can think of these selected passages as flashlights illuminating aspects of reality that we must learn to see and address if we hope to attain liberation together. 

Selection 1: "Obscuring the path of liberation for us all, simply put, is race." 

A few thoughts on how we might work with sentences like this in our practice. For me, it is helpful to meditate with short, clear pointers. So we could rearrange the above sentence into the statement, "Race obscures the path of liberation for us all." Then we can sit in shikantaza, in "no knowing" and with curiosity, and drop this statement into our open mind, reflect on its meaning, and see what arises. 

First, there will be an interpretive quality. In what way might race obscure the path of liberation for us all? We might think of the history of our nation, including slavery, segregation, and discrimination. We might think of contemporary racial disparities such as the educational achievement gap (which Kendi appropriately renames the "opportunity gap"), or the school to prison pipeline. Perhaps we hear about how a predominantly white community objected to an oil pipeline running adjacent to their water source, so the Federal government ran it adjacent to a nearby Native American community's water source, against their wishes. 

Or maybe we hear a personal story from an Asian American student about how someone yelled from a passing car, "Go back to China!" Now that student is scared to walk outside. Perhaps we see a video of another Black person brutally murdered by the police, or watch 13th, the documentary about disproportionate incarceration rates of Black people. With a little attention and research, it becomes clear that race obscures the path of liberation for people of color. 

Soon, we might notice feelings arise. Maybe we see our own shyness (or over-enthusiasm, or fear, or whatever arises) when around people of different races. Maybe we feel righteous anger or a deep sense of guilt about our nation's systemic oppression of people of color. Or maybe what arises is dismissiveness, deadness, or defensiveness, such as, "this isn't my fault!" or, "yes, that's an issue, but there's nothing I can do." There is even a term coined by Robin Di'Angelo for the reactivity that often arises, inhibiting white people's freedom to engage: "white fragility." I might call it "self-centering," a kind of reactivity that makes listening difficult. Even centralizing white fragility can become a distraction from seeing what is beyond white narratives. Perhaps we are beginning to notice some of the ways our own liberation as white people is also on the line. 

Zen practice is staying present with whatever arises. So whatever comes, our job is to bear witness, then drop the sentence again into our practice: "Race obscures the path of liberation for us all." And don't turn away. 

What we are doing is allowing reactions to arise and dissipate, just like in any meditative practice. Most essentially, we are practicing staying with the issue. We are developing our endurance in staying with a potentially triggering subject so that we can remain present with it in the world. We are allowing our hearts to break open. 

As we leave the cushion and enter the busy world, we can continue to recall the sentence, "race obscures the path of liberation for us all," whenever we can. Then we awaken to what is present in the world. 

Moment after moment, just by raising the statement with awareness, we begin open beyond our own denial, blindness, fixed ideas, theories, and reactivity into what is actually happening. We see that our initial ideas were just the tip of the iceberg. We begin to awaken to what is present, moment after moment. Back and forth, from stillness on the cushion to the activity of daily life, this practice develops. We might hold just this single statement for a month or more. We can allow it to illuminate aspects of reality and our hearts that we had not been willing or able to see before. 

Selection 2: "You cannot possibly understand the nature of your mind without understanding the nature of the collective mind. And in this country, the nature of the collective mind is oppression. It is white supremacy. It is patriarchy. That is what we were born into. We’ve internalized the idea that we should be divided, that we should be separated, that we are different, that we are better, that someone’s less than, that I am less than. We were partitioned, separated from one another and from our birthright. This disease keeps us from fully knowing each other, from seeing each other."

For me, the heart of this passage is the tragic notion that "we've internalized the idea that we should be separated." This statement is a call to be aware of the working of our own heart-minds. 

While meditating, we can reflect on the notion that "we believe we should be separated," and see what arises. In what ways might it be true? Perhaps what will arise first is defensiveness. "I have friends who are not my race." Or "I don't actually believe we should be separated. This is just the society we inherited." Another common defensive reaction among white people is to think, “actually I think we are all the same. I am not racist, and that is all that matters.” But this color-blindness dismisses the systemic racism that segregates us. Just notice all the forms of dismissiveness and denial that may arise. 

Or maybe what comes first is grief over the way we are so often separated by race, the way we are so often cut off from one another in our communities. Or perhaps we feel ashamed as we notice the previously unconscious stereotypes that we project onto people of different races to justify our segregation. 

Whatever arises is where we begin. As Rev. angel Kyodo williams writes, "If you are caught up, fixated on being a victim, or on the idea that you should just be guilt-ridden and there’s nothing you could possibly do to redeem yourself, wherever you are caught up, wherever you are stuck, wherever you are bound—this is not cause for concern. This is not cause for you to give up. This is exactly where your path begins." We just allow ourselves to see our own minds. We bring awareness to these patterns in our minds. 

What happens if we bring this practice phrase into our lives in the world? Can we begin to see the ways that we act on our belief we should be separated? Can we begin to witness our own blindnesses, the ways we may turn away from people because we think they are different from us, the ways we withdraw, the ways we judge, and the ways we segregate? Can we let ourselves feel the wound of this separation? Can we begin to see the ways that we have divided ourselves from ourselves, and the ways we are complicit in this division? 

Selection 3: "Every single one of us must be, by way of our commitment to liberation, committed to being the cure."

Here we find our great Zen vow to save all beings. And here we find our bodhisattva vow to take personal responsibility for improving the way things are. 

Again, while sitting, we can abbreviate this phrase and raise it in our minds. "Be the cure." Then watch what arises in response to this call to action. 

Perhaps we first feel overwhelmed. "How can I possibly cure racism in the world?" Or we might feel inspired. "Yes, I must deal with this problem to help us all heal, including myself." Maybe we even start making plans. 

Allow the phrase to drop into practice again. 

Then bring this practice phrase off the cushion into our lives. As we hear reports of another Black man murdered by the police, raise the phrase, "Be the cure." As we read about for-profit prisons that incarcerate Black people at a much higher rate than white people, reflect, "Be the cure." As we recognize inequitable outcomes for Black and Latin American people in the environment, education, housing, lending, income, and healthcare, "Be the cure." As shyness, over-enthusiasm, or fear affect our behavior with a person of a different race, think, "Be the cure." 

So what does “be the cure” mean? We each have to research and look with our own open eyes for what opportunities exist in our lives. I think the key here is that addressing racism involves both the “internal” work of facing the racist ideas in ourselves and the “external” work of changing policies that lead to inequitable outcomes for people of color. 

We can’t fix everything at once, but we can do what we can, one moment at a time. Without knowing the outcome, we simply take the next step, whether it is studying systemic racism, calling a representative, making a donation, joining a protest, voting, or reaching out when we otherwise might turn away. 

Without knowing in advance exactly what we will do or how things will turn out, we can be awake to injustice and commit to being the cure, one moment at a time. 

In this together

Rev. angel Kyodo williams writes, "It comes down to this: if you don’t get on your path, I don’t get to finish mine. It’s an inside-out job—we need both paths. We need self and we desperately need other." I want to heed this call. 

Meditating with these excerpts is just one possible way to begin the work of seeing and addressing injustice. If you are inspired and challenged by these passages, I invite you to practice with them both on the cushion and in the world. 

There are many other ways to begin or deepen the practice of awakening to and dismantling oppressive systems, such as joining actively anti-racist movements. I'd also suggest checking out a number of other books, including So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo, Awakening Together by Larry Yang, and Radical Dharma by angel Kyodo williams, Rod Owens, and Jasmine Syedullah. You might find more inspiring passages with which to practice.

Sometimes people imagine that Zen is about personally feeling better, and while that sometimes happens, Zen practice is really about liberating all beings. Where we witness oppression, our vows call on us to open our bodhisattva hearts and alleviate suffering. This is the heart of Zen.