Last Friday, my beau (who is Taiwanese American) and I headed down to North Carolina to enjoy the lovely beaches of Ocean Isle. During an attempt to get gas at the cheapest (and therefore busiest) station on our second stop, as Kevin tried to unstick the car from a hairy spot, the white guy who had boxed us in proceeded to block us from getting gas. The details of how he did this are unimportant.

As he blocked us, I caught the eye of the young white man who was sitting in his passenger seat. I'm almost certain the two of them were relatives. And the look I saw was unforgettable -- he looked proud of his pa. He looked clearly pleased to have aggravated the chink and the nigger.

How do I know? Perhaps I don't. But like too many Black people, I'm familiar with this facial expression. I remember it very clearly from almost 15 years ago when I attended a New Years party with a couple of white friends, only to be thrown out because the hosts "didn't want niggers in our house." We walked a couple of miles without coats during what turned out to be the coldest night of the year in the Washington, D.C. metro area.

For months after that incident, I was terrified of white men my age. I was anxious that no matter what they said to me directly, they were thinking, "nigger nigger nigger," when they looked at me. Although I probably still suffer from some residual anxiety related to this incident, I clearly got over it. I've dated various white men, lived with several, become best friends with many, trusted my life to a few. I know that the acts of a few are not a judgement on the many.

Going back to the young man at the gas station, my response to him was one of sadness. I was angry at how we were being treated. I was scared. In fact, I even proposed to Kevin that we get back on the freeway and find a different town, instead of just going to a different, more costly, gas station. But I was also saddened that this young man who was clearly just at the start of his life had been taught to hate. I realized a few minutes into my lament that if I would be sad about him, I had to feel the same way about his pa, who also had to be taught. He wasn't just the teacher, he had been a student.

Paying attention to racism is really hard for me, emotionally. That is not to say I don't do it. I do it all the time. I don't really have a choice about it (something I wish my white peers would pay attention to a little more often). It's exhausting (also something that people should pay attention to). It's tiring noticing all of the awful things that people do to each other or the myriad ways that people use structures to attack certain ethnic groups (see the recent state immigration laws which legalize harassing Latinos and anyone who looks Latino about their visa status). 

For me, the most incredibly exhausting part is dealing with privilege and unconscious bias. People who don't realize that by virtue of fundamentally -ist (racist, ableist, classist, homophobic, sexist, misogynist, xenophobic, you name it) structures in society, they have positions of power that they may be unintentionally abusing. Why is this the worst part? Because, as I learned for the nth time last Thursday when dealing with a (white) scientist who had written that he was so glad to see "Black people doing X," people generally don't really like to have someone pay attention to the inherent meaning and impact of their words and their actions.

When I told this scientist that I found the way he phrased things offensive, he told me he'd change his words because he was supportive of the Black community, but he didn't understand why I was accusing him of being anti-Black. I was stunned by this because I had done nothing of the sort. I had proposed that his words were not supportive ones, but that was a giant distance away from judging his entire attitude. 

I bring up this example not because I want to relive it (lord, No, please!) but because I think it provides a good example of how difficult it can be to pay attention to our privilege. The scientist went on to argue to me later that his race didn't matter. As a Black woman, I long for a day when it doesn't. As a white man, he has the privilege of acting like it doesn't. As a Black woman, I don't. I wish I could help him pay attention to that, so I could perhaps pay a little less.

Anyway, for the moment, how do we get through it? Derailing for Dummies is one way. My friends and I joked that the scientist I had been talking to was clearly Mr. But I'm Not Like That - Stop Stereotyping!. My friends applauded me for even bothering to engage in the conversation -- sadly, many of them had had exhausting conversations like this one, and they had decided that it wasn't worth the trouble trying to befriend, in a real way, white people in their working environments because it was too dangerous professionally and emotionally. 

As much as I want to say that's unsustainable, I can't fault them for wanting to have careers and for wanting to get through the day relatively unscathed. Coming back to humor, I eventually managed to joke to Kevin, "I really wish I had a shirt that said, 'I'm not a slave! Neener neener neener SUCKAS!'" I'm trying more and more to pay attention to the humorous side of what's truly ridiculous about racism. It's a serious and painful experience, and I don't want to ignore that. But I also want to laugh a little in this life.

So, as much as this is an exploration of how I can help myself confront the reality of oppression in this world, I hope it is also a call to pay attention: to privilege, to the way we intentionally and unintentionally wield it, to the way we ignore the emotional and physical experiences of others. For me, I know part of that is focusing on the humanity of the men and women who might, in another era, have joyfully lynched the men in my family. The men and women who wear the Confederate Flag proudly, lamenting for "a better time." That's hard for me sometimes. But it's essential.

But if I am going to do that work, I hope people on the other side will meet me half way, recognizing that this is hard work that has been foisted on me and on people like me. It's time for the load to get lighter.

A recent post by Tassja at Womanist Musings stirred up some controversy in the Buddhist blogosphere around the themes of culture, race, privilege, and appropriation. This maelstrom pulled in the voice of a frequent commenter with whom I coauthored a letter to Buddhadharma, inspiring her to write in solidarity with Tassja. She frequently comments as Liriel.

My name is Wisdom. Specifically, Prajña. As in Prajñaparamita. My legal name. I never changed it. It is the name my parents gave me at birth, encompassing all their hopes for how I would deal with the myriad array of choices in my future.

This is what we mean when we say that Buddhism is written on our bodies.

Chinese school at the Chan temple is where I learned to dance from the first Chinese Disneyland music box ballerina, fold origami cranes—the last one I folded is now part of an art installation for the victims of the Japan quake—and chant sutras before lunchtime. I still never waste a single grain of rice. The temple library is where my mother would go to borrow cartoons starring the 15th century Zen monk Ikkyu for me to watch. We have a youth orchestra and our own version of the boy scouts that marches under the Buddhist flag. Fifteen years after I was a student there, I attended the funeral of my favorite teacher.

This is what we mean when we say that Buddhism is moulded on our skin.

I would like to tell you how Buddhism influences my father’s treatment of his patients, every one of whom are criminally insane. I would like to tell you how Buddhism plays a role in the way my mother lends the money she doesn’t have to spare. I would like to tell you of how Buddhism sustained my aunt through the famine and my uncle through the war—I would like to tell you how it gave some measure of peace to those who did not survive.

Because this is what we mean when we say that Buddhism flows in our blood.

I would like to tell you, but I am afraid. I am afraid of you Barbara O’Brien,Kyle Lovett, and Anonymous Commenter. I have a bone-deep fear of the things you will say about my father, my mother, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my grandparents, and my three-year-old brother. I am terrified because I can see my future in what you are presently doing to Tassja.

You might tell me that Buddhism belongs in the meditation center and not the hospital. You might tell me that the war is over so what does it matter. You might tell me famine is a state of mind or any number of other things equally indicative of never having helplessly watched a child starve to death. You could discount all my family’s blood, sweat, and tears and the way they flow into and out of the Buddhism I live everyday.

Or perhaps what I say will not matter in the least. You could disregard everything I say in favor of ad feminam attacks about my being an angry person of color with a chipped shoulder. Or about my being young, in my early twenties, and thus uninformed. Or about my being an illogical woman, a “silly cow.”

All these barbs will likely be pointed at me as they are being used against Tassja, and I am afraid. But I am still here, still non-white, still young, still female, still Buddhist, still speaking out in order to tell you that this fear you strike in my heart that makes my fingers numb as I type is the issue. Not Richard Gere. Every time I want to express my differing perspective, I’m silenced by the shitstorm I know is waiting to demean my person and mock my loved ones, rather than engage with the logic of my thesis.

And so I take refuge in the non-white, non-English-speaking, immigrant sanghas I was raised in. And thus our bodies and our voices are absent from your conferences and self-congratulatory blogs. And consequently there are few to challenge your cocksure assertions of your own diversity and inclusiveness even as I stand here feeling alienated.

I retire to await your abuse with one last thought, the one that constantly plagues my mind as I read your vitriolic reactions to Tassja and Arun: there is always so much talk of detachment and transience and samsara in your cavalier dismissal of these writers, but where is your consideration for the other great pillar of Buddhism? Compassion. Where is your loving-kindness and empathy for your fellow sentient beings who suffer? Beings whose suffering is as real as yours? Beings whose suffering you should feel as you own rather than mocking as ridiculous or dismissing as inconsequential?

Nan Mo Guan Shi Yin Pu Sa.

A Little White Lie: “I’m not racist, I’m colorblind”

by Christopher Bowers

In white, liberal culture people often think of themselves as “colorblind”, seeing only humans, not their race. It seems reasonable enough. We want to be humanists and believe that we see people for who they are inside, for what we have in common with them. It is important to ask, is what we feel inside really a commonality or could that also be as different as the color of our skin?

A true humanist sees the beauty of difference as well as commonality and yet still isn’t satisfied. A true humanist tries also to understand the distinct struggles with which every human lives. We are humans and as such we live in societies. To be “colorblind” is to neglect a fundamental part of humanism: of the many realities we exist in, the most compelling, consuming, and dire reality, is our social reality. It is the reality that will determine our fate. While race is not a biological reality, it is a social one. Not seeing color is to not see reality; it is to not see adversity. Colorblindness is a fantasy world in which we don’t truly know one another. It would seem then that to not see someone’s struggles (struggles often related to race) is to not see them at all. How would white people feel if their markers of individuality and community, be it artistic expression, intellectual prowess, gender or sexual orientation were glossed over as inconsequential? What if these important factors were swept under the carpet in the name of overcoming prejudice? It is a hard irony indeed. Some might argue here that it is those markers that we have in common. This is true. It is also true that those markers are themselves marked by race and the social reality of inequality and history.

To be colorblind is to be simply blind. It is to collaborate with the inhumane practices of assuming that all humans have the same experience, whether they are black, white, gay or straight, male or female. So the consequences of colorblindness must also be dealt with. Colorblindness implies also that since we are all the same, we have all had equal opportunity. This implication has lead to enormous power differentials economically and politically that persist to this day.

It is doubtful that we can achieve a genuine equality without dealing honestly with our social reality. The social reality is that we are a diverse human family and that race affects every aspect of our lives. White people often have a hard time seeing this. It is as if they are blind.

____________________________________________________________

Christopher Bowers is a white social worker, student, anti-racist and writer. He teaches Mindfulness-based anti-racism classes at the East Bay Meditation Center. He hosts a social blog about white privilege at www.whitepriv.blogspot.com and another blog of his own creative fiction and non-fiction writing at www.cryingjustbecause.blogspot.com. Feel free to contact him at cjbalive@hotmail.com.

In mid May, they covered this letter written by Rev Lawrence Grecco, of Open Sky Sangha in New York City. Rev Grecco is very critical of the Korean Taego Orders problems with ordaining (and thus ministering to) Gays, Lesbians, Queer, etc. 

Sweeping Zen reached out to the Taego Order and published a brief commentary on the reaction here.

I post these things out of a feeling that the LGBTQ community has allies here in this group. Afterall, combating the exclusion and isolation of anyone brings us all closer together and results in fewer walls to break down. I'm also feeling more and more that in many of the classic monastic and priestly orders the community at large has very little recourse in the face of injustice or wrongdoing except public pressure. 

The Calling featured Islamic, Jewish and Christian, women and men who were attending seminary to heed the nudge and make their religious practice a full time profession. Each of those featured faced cultural, financial, social, and spiritual, issues during and post seminary. After watching the documentary, one might wonder why bother, especially in a economic climate in where you hedge each resume you send out with the playing of a lottery number? Yet it was not that question that nagged me after the viewing. What nagged me the most is where are the Buddhist vocation stories?

Most stories that are written by Buddhists for Buddhists cover specific aspects about practice instead of  the first step on the crooked path. One of the few times I remember reading about Buddhist teachers and gasp, of color talking about their religious journey was in the September 2001 of  Shamhbala Sun. The article entitled Something Has to Change, featured the stories of Jan Willis, Joseph Jarman and Ralph Steele. Since that article, Jan Willis has written a widely acclaimed book about her journey along with Angel Kyodo Williams. But it would be nice to have part of these stories online as well.

So I am asking the Urban Refuge community, for those of you who have felt the stirring be called to be a nun, monk, teacher etc... please do not wait until that book contract from Tavis Smiley or Harper Collins  to arrive via snail mail. Share your story so others may be encouraged to heed the whisper that speaks in their ear.

I am new here, but not unfamiliar with internet. I am on Ning, but I find it interesting to be here too.

I hope to share, connect and learn.

At the moment I do, listening to a lesson of Noah Levine. Hurra for the MP3, the... with stairs and small toilet.

I hope to start my own little sangha in my own home, but in the meanwhile, let this community be my sangha.

http://dangerousharvests.blogspot.com/

As seems to be the case about every three or four months, there has been a lot of discussion in the Buddhoblogosphere about race, racism, and dharma practice. It's very telling how race and racism tend to tip over people who otherwise demonstrate clear thinking and compassion in their words. People just struggle terribly with these issues.

Obviously, the generations and generations of hatred and ignorance spawned by both individual and systemic racism aren't going to suddenly disappear. It's going to take a hell of a lot more listening, a hell of a lot more refraining from spouting off from whatever woundedness we each have, and a hell of a lot more willingness to change (individually and collectively) in order for a more just world to emerge.

Here are a few quotes from different posts addressing the race and racism. The first is from a more secular source, the blog Feministe. Tami, a woman of color, writes:
 

Today, when an “ism” shows its face, too much public sympathy rests with the offender and not the offended. As I’ve written before, in these times, hearing someone branded a racist is likely to upset more folks than encountered racism. Stick any bias in there–sexism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia…and the result is the same. It is, I think, the way the status quo defends itself when it gets tired of treating certain people equally.

One thing I will quibble with is labeling "people" racist because it's really a particular set of thoughts, words, and actions that are racist, and not any entire person. In addition, anyone wanting to have a dialogue with others whose thoughts, words, and/or actions are racist probably shouldn't begin with labeling said folks "racist."

With that said, I really find Tami's points so painfully true, at least in the United States right now. The reality, President Obama notwithstanding, is that the lion's share of power and privilege in this country still lies with white folks, individually and collectively. The historical legacy, which continues to play out today, very clearly favored white Americans in every sense from the nation's founding. This is our collective karma, whether you like it or not. As a white male, even though I have had my struggles, and have experienced direct injustice, it in no way, shape or form is equivalent to that of people of color living in my nation. I don't walk around feeling guilty about this, but I do make every effort to listen, pause, and re-examine my views around these issues - precisely because as a member of the most privileged group in my society, it's so easy for me not to. Just as the practice of meditation might be viewed as a radical act in a society addicted to speed and instant gratification, so, too, I think is the act of remaining vigilant about race and racism when everything in society supports doing the opposite.

Adam, over at Fly Like a Crow, recently wrote this:
 

Recently, a fellow blogger Kyle wrote a bit about race and privilege and then there was quite a discussion in the comments. Check it out if you want, though you won’t see any comments by me.

That’s because I don’t want to talk about race. I know that it is an important issue. I know that issues about race are bound to come up when dealing with Buddhism, bloggers, and inflated egos on the internet. Some of these discussions are very important. But I don’t want any part of them. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m white. I’ve simply had it with issues of race. (and yes, I understand the irony of this post)

I think most every has had it with issues of race. I know I have. I'd love to dump all the samsara on the planet into a garbage can and go on with my life, too, but it's not going to happen.

Before you take this as a condemnation of Adam's view, I think it's important to recognize that where he is coming from right now is a place all of us have been about some issue or another in our lives. Exhaustion and burn out happen, and during those times, it's best to do what you can to rest. I think it's important when considering large scale social issues that have impacted people for generations, to realize that they require a wide variety of responses over a very long period of time from many, many, many people. No one person will end racism and the suffering behind it. And I really think that sometimes, the most appropriate response one can offer is simply to offer metta to all beings during your meditation - that we all may be liberated from the misery of racism.

On the other hand, it's vitally important to recognize that opportunities to rest are not equivalent. I remember what it was like to be a white teenager hanging out on the streets, in parks, at school, and in other public places with black and latino teenagers. Whenever authority figured entered the picture, it was rarely I who had pressure or heavy questioning placed upon me. And it was often I who received comments like "You're smart. You should do something more with your life than hang around with these guys." In fact, some of those guys even said as much, never mind that they were intelligent and capable themselves. When I behaved "badly" or questionably, the presence of my "smarts" alone seemed to allow me a pass most of the time with teachers, school administration, and other authorities that came into my life. The same wasn't true for my friends of color.

So, I'm convinced that both the opportunity to rest, and the quality of that rest, are privileged. Race, class, gender, and sexual orientation all play roles in how much opportunity people have to step away from any given social problem that's impacting their lives. (Hint: every social problem impacts all of us, regardless of who we are.)

The wonderful thing about Buddhist teachings is that even though these disparities are present, anyone, from any background, can learn to how to rest better, listen better, respond better - and most importantly, anyone can be liberated through practice, regardless of circumstances.

However, part of awakening in my view is learning to be fully present to our conditioning, to see that how we are cannot be divorced from the history of where we grew up, as well as the actual people and places we experienced.

Maia, over at Jizo Chronicles, provides some of this wider perspective in comments she wrote right after Hurricane Katrina five years ago. As the people down there continue to struggle in many ways, it's vital to continue to consider why it is that certain groups in certain places are allowed to suffer more than others.
 

   To witness the travesty that has been New Orleans over these past five days is heartbreaking beyond belief. And outrageous.

    Phrases comes to my mind, and at first I thought them too inflammatory to write here. But I will anyway, because I want to wake us up. I want to wake myself up. Genocide. Ethnic Cleansing. Economic Cleansing. What else to call it when thousands of poor, Black people are allowed to die in front of our eyes? And not just any death – excruciating deaths, brought about by lack of food, water… drowning deaths because people have waited for rooftop rescues which never came, and while they watched other corpses float by… children dying, old people dying, disabled people dying.

The really sad thing is, I’m not sure much has changed since August 2005.

May all beings be safe. 

And may we all be liberated. Peace.

Reading list: I’m adding these to my reading list: Together we are One: Honoring Diversity, Celebrating our Connection by Thich Nhat Hanh and That Bird Has My Wings: The Autobiography of an Innocent Man on Death Row by Jarvis Jay Masters. (If anyone has read them yet, maybe consider posting a book review???)

Parting thoughts: "You can't lead the people if you don't love the people. You can't save the people if you don't serve the people."    —    Cornel West

The author offers a "framework of Buddhist Journalism", which he contrasts to "traits of mainstream journalism". I can't but think how much healthier our world might be should more journalists follow the framework suggested by Gunaratne.

A couple quotes that especially stood out to me:

A journalism grounded in Buddhist morals is most likely to produce (1) a journalism of healing because the goal of Buddhism is achieving the end of “suffering,” which connotes many facets of existence, and (2) a journalism of timely, truthful, and helpful speech based on the Noble Eightfold Path. This assertion comes from American journalist Doug McGill (2008), who claims that in Buddhism he “finally found ... explicit and practical morals of human communication.

Journalism based on original Buddhist philosophical principles—whose ethical-conduct component is similar to that of the Decalogue common to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—could be a potent therapy tool for treating the communicative pathologies of the modern lifeworld (Habermas, 1984). Because Buddhism follows the middle path between capitalism and socialism, a comparison and contrast of Buddhist goals with traits of the contemporary mainstream news paradigm seems quite appropriate.

We have $50 on the account. We will need $93.28 by May 2012. This is wonderful!!

Today, when an “ism” shows its face, too much public sympathy rests with the offender and not the offended. As I’ve written before, in these times, hearing someone branded a racist is likely to upset more folks than encountered racism. Stick any bias in there–sexism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia…and the result is the same. It is, I think, the way the status quo defends itself when it gets tired of treating certain people equally.

One thing I will quibble with is labeling "people" racist because it's really a particular set of thoughts, words, and actions that are racist, and not any entire person. In addition, anyone wanting to have a dialogue with others whose thoughts, words, and/or actions are racist probably shouldn't begin with labeling said folks "racist."

With that said, I really find Tami's points so painfully true, at least in the United States right now. The reality, President Obama notwithstanding, is that the lion's share of power and privilege in this country still lies with white folks, individually and collectively. The historical legacy, which continues to play out today, very clearly favored white Americans in every sense from the nation's founding. This is our collective karma, whether you like it or not. As a white male, even though I have had my struggles, and have experienced direct injustice, it in no way, shape or form is equivalent to that of people of color living in my nation. I don't walk around feeling guilty about this, but I do make every effort to listen, pause, and re-examine my views around these issues - precisely because as a member of the most privileged group in my society, it's so easy for me not to. Just as the practice of meditation might be viewed as a radical act in a society addicted to speed and instant gratification, so, too, I think is the act of remaining vigilant about race and racism when everything in society supports doing the opposite.

Adam, over at Fly Like a Crow, recently wrote this:

Recently, a fellow blogger Kyle wrote a bit about race and privilege and then there was quite a discussion in the comments. Check it out if you want, though you won’t see any comments by me.

That’s because I don’t want to talk about race. I know that it is an important issue. I know that issues about race are bound to come up when dealing with Buddhism, bloggers, and inflated egos on the internet. Some of these discussions are very important. But I don’t want any part of them. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m white. I’ve simply had it with issues of race. (and yes, I understand the irony of this post)

I think most every has had it with issues of race. I know I have. I'd love to dump all the samsara on the planet into a garbage can and go on with my life, too, but it's not going to happen.

Before you take this as a condemnation of Adam's view, I think it's important to recognize that where he is coming from right now is a place all of us have been about some issue or another in our lives. Exhaustion and burn out happen, and during those times, it's best to do what you can to rest. I think it's important when considering large scale social issues that have impacted people for generations, to realize that they require a wide variety of responses over a very long period of time from many, many, many people. No one person will end racism and the suffering behind it. And I really think that sometimes, the most appropriate response one can offer is simply to offer metta to all beings during your meditation - that we all may be liberated from the misery of racism.

On the other hand, it's vitally important to recognize that opportunities to rest are not equivalent. I remember what it was like to be a white teenager hanging out on the streets, in parks, at school, and in other public places with black and latino teenagers. Whenever authority figured entered the picture, it was rarely I who had pressure or heavy questioning placed upon me. And it was often I who received comments like "You're smart. You should do something more with your life than hang around with these guys." In fact, some of those guys even said as much, never mind that they were intelligent and capable themselves. When I behaved "badly" or questionably, the presence of my "smarts" alone seemed to allow me a pass most of the time with teachers, school administration, and other authorities that came into my life. The same wasn't true for my friends of color.

So, I'm convinced that both the opportunity to rest, and the quality of that rest, are privileged. Race, class, gender, and sexual orientation all play roles in how much opportunity people have to step away from any given social problem that's impacting their lives. (Hint: every social problem impacts all of us, regardless of who we are.)

The wonderful thing about Buddhist teachings is that even though these disparities are present, anyone, from any background, can learn to how to rest better, listen better, respond better - and most importantly, anyone can be liberated through practice, regardless of circumstances.

However, part of awakening in my view is learning to be fully present to our conditioning, to see that how we are cannot be divorced from the history of where we grew up, as well as the actual people and places we experienced.

Maia, over at Jizo Chronicles, provides some of this wider perspective in comments she wrote right after Hurricane Katrina five years ago. As the people down there continue to struggle in many ways, it's vital to continue to consider why it is that certain groups in certain places are allowed to suffer more than others.

To witness the travesty that has been New Orleans over these past five days is heartbreaking beyond belief. And outrageous.

Phrases comes to my mind, and at first I thought them too inflammatory to write here. But I will anyway, because I want to wake us up. I want to wake myself up. Genocide. Ethnic Cleansing. Economic Cleansing. What else to call it when thousands of poor, Black people are allowed to die in front of our eyes? And not just any death – excruciating deaths, brought about by lack of food, water… drowning deaths because people have waited for rooftop rescues which never came, and while they watched other corpses float by… children dying, old people dying, disabled people dying.

The really sad thing is, I’m not sure much has changed since August 2005.

May all beings be safe.

And may we all be liberated. Peace.

Please note that if you are a member from the Ning site (you joined UR before June 2010) you need to log on to the new Urban Refuge site before 8/29/10 to prevent your account (and all your content) from being removed. For more information, refer to the blog post, or email me: UrbanRefugeSangha [at] gmail [dot]com

Welcome to Urban Refuge flowering, joanna, Dharmacharya, rubbishrose, Michael,  Ashish, SaccaSoul and Everett Wilson!

Member Groups: Please consider joining one of these groups or create your own to connect with others in your area.
EmilyLovida created a new group called DC Metro and GreenKite  joined DC Metro group
There are also groups for New York , Northern California and Southern California

Discussions
GreenKite created a new discussion in Not necessarily Buddhist forum titled The 100-Item Challenge

Blogs
Kimberly Alidio posted a new blog titled radical politics and dhamma, sangha?
Katie Loncke posted a new blog titled Dangers of Compassion   
Erica posted a new blog titled Essay Competition for Faith solutions to Poverty

Upcoming Events
Diversity Circle on Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Vallecitos People of Color Retreat on Saturday, August 28, 2010
Retreat 1st Discourse of the Buddha & the Practice on Friday, October 01, 2010
The Practice of Presence: Five-Day Retreat on Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Pema Chodron retreat in Oct. on Friday, October 15, 2010

Interesting Happenings in Cyberspace
from Angry Asian Buddhist: White Buddhist for Asians
from the Dharmafolk Blog: PRI’s THE WORLD: Buddhist teacher for Vietnamese immigrants
from Matthew Anderson at the Huffington Post: The Case for Blending Church and State

Peace is not something you wish for; It’s something you make, Something you do, Something you are, And something you give away. — Robert Fulghum

As always, much love and gratitude to you all. Be well everyone.
Erica

For those of you who you've joined us in the last 2-3 months, be sure to check out some of the blogs and discussions Urban Refuge members have posted since Dec 2009. There is some great stuff and I am really happy that we've been able to keep it as part of our site.

For the Ning veterans....

Please let me know ASAP if you notice anything funky about your content or account that may have happened during the transfer. If you registered on the NEW site (urbanrefuge.org) before 7/31/10, your account info will be as you created it.

If you had NOT registered on the new site before today, your account info was transferred from Ning. You may login using your email address. Your email address is also your temporary password. Once you login here, you will be prompted to create a new password. Please note that you must login to UrbanRefuge.org before 29 Aug 2010 or your account (and all your content) will be deleted.

If your account has been transferred, and you would no longer like to be a member of Urban Refuge, you have 3 options.

1. Login to UrbanRefuge.org as indicated above. Click on the "Your Home" tab at the top right hand corner of the home page. On the right side of your home page, under the bold heading "Account", there is a link to leave the site. Click this and your account (and all your content) will be removed.
2. Send me an email (urbanrefugesangha [at] gmail [dot] com) and I will remove your account for you.
3. Do nothing and in 30 days (on 30 Aug 2010) your account will be automatically deleted.

Again, please let me know if you have any trouble with this.

with love and appreciation,

Erica

Here's the latest happenings at Urban Refuge:

Welcome new Urban Refuge members: Shosan, rsmoore, Mariam, zeena, Jophes, sidewalkdiva, DrLeeColeman, sue, ccruzin, Renee, and sunshine!

Announcements
I am currently working with Spruz to transfer all the content from the previous Urban Refuge site on ning. Yay! Finally! I am really excited about this because there were so many great stories and blogs that I don’t want to be lost.

Blogs
examining fears, hatreds, and the methods of control we employ to avoid facing both

Results-Oriented Dharma: U.S. Buddhism in the 21st Century

Poverty Dharma(s)

Discussion Forums
Racial Identity and the Concept of Non-self
POC Sanghas

Upcoming Events
RISE Conference Call for Presenters

Diversity Circle, Philadelphia

Vallecitos POC Retreat 

Support for Urban Refuge

We’ve raised $40 so far! Thank you so much!

News on the world wide web

Is it ok to say “the West”? from the Tricycle Editor’s Blog
Ven Diagram 2, from The Buddha is my DJ

Early Memories of Race in New England: Consumption, Healing, and Zen Buddhism, from SistahVegan

May we all give love freely and receive it openly!

~erica

Media and many non-profit folks repeatedly called for “non-violence” from the crowd, but besides one small fight that was quickly broken up, the only violence I witnessed was cops in riot gear beating on protesters. (The blurriest of my photos shows cops taking down and arresting a friend of mine. They whacked him over the head, tackled him to the ground, cuffed him, threw him in a car, and are apparently charging him with a felony.)

Again, it’s important to distinguish between property destruction or the looting of a Foot Locker, which did happen among the crowd, and violence, which is what the police were doing, did to Oscar Grant, and do to poor of-color communities in general.

I'm trying not to disrespect law enforcement officers in general with this post. Many do their best under difficult circumstances, and are in life threatening situations that most of us non-police officers can't even imagine. Police officers should not be considered "enemies," "evil," or "other" in my view. They are us. And I think too often, the majority of people in communities actually expect that the police will use a lot force, will take down "the bad guys," and this only serves to increase the appearance of excessive force in my opinion. In fact, any excessive force done by law enforcement is, in my view, the responsibility of the entire community said officers serve. As such, even if the officer who murdered Oscar Grant had been convicted of the greater charge, the damage done to both his police department and the city of Oakland would still have been present. For better or worse, the people of Oakland and the police of Oakland are intimately tied to each other.

My hometown police department, which had been noted as a regional, if not national, leader in community/police relations, had some of their fragile work damaged in my view because of events that occurred two summers ago. The Republican National Convention came into town, and the mass arrests and general clamp down that came with that convention tossed the image of a police department working with it's community out the window. Granted, a lot of the logistics and decisions were in the hands of federal law enforcement, so it would be unfair to lay responsibility on solely on the St. Paul Police Dept. However, they did eagerly take millions of federal dollars to purchase tons of riot gear, military-style vehicles, and cameras for nearly every intersection downtown (as well as other major intersections around town). In addition, even though 95% of the arrests made during the week-long convention ended up having no grounds, our Dept. repeatedly stood behind nearly everything that was done during the convention. Even though 30 journalists, including Democracy Now's Amy Goodman, were among the arrests, there was barely even an apology to be found from either our police department, or our city's leaders.

Between the cement blockades and wire fences that lined half the streets downtown, to the 2-3000 police officers in riot gear, to the 24 hour a day helicopter surveillance, to the 800 + arrests that had no grounds to them, it was nothing short of overkill. And yet, this kind of militarization done under the claim of "public safety" seems to be trend now whenever mass protests occur, especially amongst people who have long been disenfranchised, like those in Oakland. It should be unsettling, but when I hear people calling for more police control, more head bashing, more prisons, and more violence in the name of safety, it doesn't surprise me in the least.

I'm writing this piece in a very direct, blunt, and "slanted" way because anything less would fail to spark some questions we all need to consider.

What is the nature of our fears? Why are so many of us tossed away by our fears about others, to the point that we'd rather see entire groups of people oppressed than face what we are afraid of?

Why is it that people who claim to want a "free society" are also so quick to call for more police, more military, more video cameras, more prisons, and more generalized state control over their communities?

Why is it that when someone tosses a brick through the window of some corporation, people want "the thugs" dealt with, but when an unarmed black man is killed by a police officer, our nation ends up split almost in half as to whether or not the killing was justified?

All the meditation in the world won't bring liberation if we're blind to how these kinds of issues impact our lives.

Katie's post makes an important comparison between state-sanctioned violence and intimate violence or domestic violence. I think there a link is there, and worth exploring more.

No one who lives in a place controlled by violence or threats of violence escapes unscathed. We owe it to ourselves to examine the origin of violence both within our own lives, and in our communities and nations. And furthermore, we owe it to future generations not even born yet to take action now, in whatever ways we can, to liberate our minds and hearts. Some try to do this on the meditation cushion. Others try to do this in our communities. It's time that more of us bring these two together.

In her retreat at Upaya, Joanna Macy spoke of being satisfied with just what we have. A retreatant asked how that could possibly be useful to the people in Haiti (the earthquake was very prominent in our thoughts on that day) who now had less than what had been already a horrendously impoverished life. Roshi Joan Halifax, adding to Joanna Macy’s response, pointed out that the dharma was aimed at our perceptions and she closed with this statement:

“Do not foster a mind of poverty in yourself and others.”

Yikes! When I first read this, it felt like a mountain we are called to climb without the use of our arms or legs. In fact, as soon as I saw the word "Haiti" I was ready to disagree with the whole thing, waiting for yet another soft, warm and fuzzy teaching from some privileged person aimed at "helping" the "poor masses." I've experienced enough of this kind of stuff now that my mind is on alert for it. There are benefits to thinking like this, but it also, in itself, can be an example of that "poverty mind" if one isn't careful.

“Do not foster a mind of poverty in yourself and others.”

One of the challenges this kind of teaching brings up for me is that it's only subtly different from all the languaging people in power positions have used throughout time to oppress others. The endless droning on these folks and their attendants do about "those whiny, pathetic people always asking for handouts." People of color in the U.S. know this kind of shit all too well, although they are only one example. I distinctly remember being poor enough to only have government cheese and powdered milk available in my house, and how the clothing my mother purchased at garage sales rendered me other amongst many of my elementary school classmates. It's hard not to develop a mind of poverty when you have lived in some form of material poverty, and have been repeatedly given the message that it's your own damn fault and that you or your family should shut the hell up and get a job, or a better job. In other words, it all becomes about material position, and so it's hard not to develop, and then foster in others, a "mind of poverty" because this is what is constantly being reinforced around us.

Yes, there is repetition in this post. Repetition is required for people to learn, or unlearn in this case.

Roshi Halifax and Joanna Macy are pointing to the ways in which we forget the boundless, totally generous functioning of this world. That beneath all the human constructed miseries there is that something greater pulsing through us in a totally generous, beyond poverty and wealth kind of way.

This is an important teaching for us, and yet one that isn't always easy to know how to apply.

How would a materially privileged person from a nation like the U.S. or Canada enter into a materially poor nation like Haiti and not foster the mind of poverty?

There is a rub because you can't separate the relative conditions from the absolute. If I, a lower middle class (by U.S. standards) white guy from Minnesota, went around a tent city in Port Au Prince and told people to "be satisfied with what they have," I'd probably get punched in the face. Or at least some dirty looks. This is the trouble with just repeating teachings to others, thinking they will instantly understand because somehow you think you understand.

One doesn't have to go all the way to Haiti to experience this fumbling about. I can think of countless times I have fostered some kind of poverty in myself and/or others. How I have hooked on to some form of "there is lack" here, and just went with it. How I have failed to hold both the real economic injustices that occur all over the world and the boundless, totally generous functioning of this world at the same time. Because when you are able to do this, you can speak clearly about those same injustices in a way that still fosters that boundless generosity - I've felt it in myself, and from others at times.

“Do not foster a mind of poverty in yourself and others.”

How can it be done? The answer might start with listening.

Our June Financial Statement

We've raised $20 in donations so far.

 Our expenses are $143.28 every 24 months.

We are in need of $123.28 by May 2012. Not bad!

Thanks so much everyone for your support!