Zen and Dismantling Racial Constellations of Harm

In her book, Mindful of Race: Transforming Racism from the Inside Out, Ruth King writes: 

It would be wholesome for all of humanity if white people, as a collective, were to see themselves as racial individuals and to recognize whiteness as a racial constellation with roots, history, power, and privilege that negatively impact other races, and then to organize themselves to dismantle racial constellations of harm.

I love Ruth King's book. In Boundless Way Zen, we are reading it in our recently formed Racial Justice Group. We also discuss race openly in Morning Star Zen Sangha. 

Not everyone is entirely comfortable with this direction. One sangha member suggested that raising questions about race in a Zen sangha is unwise. I understand his concern. This is not an easy topic. I do worry sometimes that we may unintentionally harm one another in this fraught territory, particularly as a mixed-race, mixed-ethnicity group. There is risk involved. 

But Zen offers us unique precepts, insights, and practices that can help us wake up with compassion to the construct of race and racial constellations of harm. 

Why Race?

Racism is a particularly salient form of oppression in American society resulting in imprisonment, poverty, disenfranchisement, inadequate healthcare, environmental injustice, limited educational opportunities, internment, hate crimes, and more. There are other intersectional forms of oppression that deserve our attention; antiracist activism excludes none. But our American “caste” is rooted in a relentless series of targeted policies that have disenfranchised and oppressed people of color while economically propping up white people. 

White families in Boston have a median net worth of $247,500 while Black families have just $8. To say the discrepancy is Black people’s fault is a racist idea. This inequity is the result of hundreds of years of racist policies, including slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, redlining, and disproportionately criminalizing Black and Brown people. These policies and many more have led to stark inequities that persist for people of color. 

Ibram Kendi* argues that racist ideas are born when people blame the racial group, not the racist policies, for ongoing inequities. Such racist tropes are numberless in our culture, contributing to often unconscious senses of superiority and inferiority.

Once we blame the victims in this way, we become silent and complicit in ongoing oppression. Many of these implicit biases need to be brought to light through close attention, or they remain hidden to us.

What Zen Brings

Part of Zen practice is awakening to our own delusions, taking responsibility for them, and seeing through them. We chant, "delusions are endless; I vow to end them." In Zen, we are encouraged to turn the light around, shine it within, and actually examine the delusions that generate suffering. 

What is our motive for this work? Our great vow is to liberate all beings from suffering. Awakening is central to that path, but it does not mean ignoring injustice. In fact, it helps illuminate the delusions that lead to injustice. 

Part of what we realize in introspection is that our thoughts and conceptions are not reality itself. This may seem obvious, but in day-to-day life, we are often deceived. My conception of a person is not the animated presence before me. 

This is a helpful insight when becoming aware of our racial views. It is important to recognize that our inherited conceptions of races are socially conditioned and biased. Race is actually a biologically meaningless category. Kendi calls race "a mirage." From the "absolute" perspective of what Zen folks call emptiness, races do not have intrinsic or fixed essences at all. Nothing does. 

However, Kendi also appropriately argues that these mirages of race have enormous power in our hearts, minds, and society. We get "lost in the absolute" when we try to whitewash problems through claims of “oneness.” It’s a form of denial that is privileged, uncompassionate, and dishonest. 

So from the Zen perspective, though we recognize concepts as concepts, we also recognize the "relative truth" that these socially constructed designations have consequences.

White people in particular may wish to "spiritually bypass" examining how impressions of races live in our hearts, minds, and society due to our history of creating policies that oppress people of color and economically benefit white people. One example is the way white Zen practitioners might try to use a focus on "awakening" as an excuse not to turn toward injustices. This may be because we feel shame. White people often react negatively to being asked to think about  privilege and racist policies. We quickly move into defensiveness, dismissiveness and deflection perhaps because deep down we know we are complicit in policies that have resulted in inequitable outcomes, we have perhaps benefited economically, and we have not remedied those inequities.

But white people also suffer due to racism. We suffer disconnection and a loss of kinship. We suffer segregation. And we suffer a loss of capacity to love as we become cold, disengaged, or even hateful. We are not separate from this suffering world after all. Awakening heightens rather than erases our awareness of our interconnectedness. 

Zen practice teaches us that we can meet our personal and collective suffering, and we can talk about it skillfully by honoring the precepts of not speaking falsely and not elevating ourselves at the expense of others. In this way we take personal responsibility.

We also practice listening compassionately. When pain arises in ourselves and in others, we need not turn away. This is possible because through practice, we recognize that we are not only our suffering. We are also the earth and sky. This "wider container" gives us space to acknowledge suffering without getting swept away in reactivity. The vast sky gives the thundercloud infinite space. Put differently, we are like boundless oceans containing tumultuous waves. We don’t deny the waves; we give them space to arise, roar, and fall. In meditation, we discover a boundless compassion that allows us to take the suffering of the world into our hearts. When we see suffering and its causes clearly, we are moved to take action to help alleviate that suffering.

As one white sangha member put it, "I have never thought about what it means to be white. I wonder why not?" White people have our own work to do in realizing that we are indeed racial beings "with roots, history, power, and privilege that negatively impact other races" but that could be used to help create a more just society.

Every time we practice together in Morning Star Zen Sangha, we vow to atone for our endless greed, aversion and ignorance. We vow to liberate all beings from the suffering these three poisons cause. Dismantling racial constellations of harm is one important way we can enact this vow. 

*Ibram Kendi has written two great books, How to be an Antiracist and Stamped from the Beginning. I also recommend Coates’s The Case for Reparations, The 1619 Project, and Ruth King’s book Mindful of Race. If you want to watch a powerful, informative documentary, check out 13th on Netflix. It describes our modern day slavery in the criminalization of Black and Brown people. I also highly recommend Jeff Chang's essay, The In-Betweens: On Asian Americanness. For more on residential segregation by design, check out this short video. Finally, for a quick look at how many of us have been miseducated, check out this John Oliver clip. 

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.