Rinzai Zen-senter Oslo ba meg i høst om å skrive en artikkel til deres magasin Zen Punkt. Jeg endte opp med å intervju Zuiko for hennes arbeid med kjønns- og minoritetsspørsmål.
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Where is the conversation
about gender roles in Zen?
Interview with Shea Zuiko Settimi (September 2019)
|
Zuiko |
Rakusan gives me a crash course in journalism
It is hosan(1) at Zen Mountain Monastery (ZMM), in the
Catskills mountains a couple of hours from New York City,
and I am in the kitchen having breakfast. Cheerful voices are
heard between the monastics and other short and long term
residents who are loafing around. I am talking to Rakusan,
one of the older monastics. He practiced at Mount Baldy in
the 70’s, so we share dharma roots. I am telling him that I
am going to write an article about women and zen. He lights
up - “You should really talk to Zuiko, she worked a lot with
that! She might be here today.”
This hosan I am helping Rakusan with the building of a
bed for Zuiko. Zuiko is ordained at ZMM, but has just taken out leave and naturally lacks furniture after having lived
at the monastery for about a decade. When we are back at
the main building to have lunch, Rakusan suddenly points at
someone outside: “There is Zuiko! Go talk to her now!” This
is how it is here. No time to lose, to dwell, to overthink. I run
out: “Zuiko!” We agree to meet a couple of hours later.
About understanding different perspectives
It is a warm Autumn day early in September. We are sitting
outside the beautiful monastery building on a low wall plated
with large slate slabs. A small Japanese Buddha statue greets
us with gasshō.
BIRGITTE: Why do you think Rakusan was referring me to
you about the topic of feminism and Zen?
ZUIKO: Especially in a culture like the United States, the
universal standard experience is men. To get more granular:
white, straight, Christian, able-bodied, college educated,
middle class men. Zen as an institution in this country is
no different. Most teachings that come down to us are from
men, the koan curriculum is about men, mostly. You know -
800 koans and only a handful that contains a woman. There
was a time when all of the teachers here were men. At the end
of a sesshin some years ago I spoke about how that week the
chant leader was a man, the work supervisor was a man, all
the talks were given by men, dokusan was offered by men. I
wasn’t hearing the dharma in a woman’s voice. All week. And
if no one is bringing that out, the men aren’t noticing that,
even many of the women don’t notice it.
BIRGITTE: True! I also find myself wondering if others
don’t see this!
ZUIKO: Yeah! So I think I’ve just been a person who has
been very vocal about bringing that up. When I worked on
the Mumankan (2) I would transcribe every case and commentary to switch the pronoun - from he to she. Shibayama says
“...a true Zen man” and I would change it to “...a true Zen
person”. And I was constantly doing this translation, even
though I understand that what it’s pointing to is beyond
those kinds of identities. First I need to be able to find myself
in it.
I really react against comments like “...but the absolute is
beyond dualities like gender.” You can only say that from a
dominant perspective. If the absolute and the relative really
are non-dual, then these things do matter and are important.
Because you know, we don’t live in some “no eye, ear, tongue,
body, mind”-state. And in my experience that way of viewing
the teachings gets invoked when people want to avoid an uncomfortable conversation about gender or race - one that it is
really important to have.
BIRGITTE: Like they are not willing to take another perspective, not realizing others have a different experience than
they do.
ZUIKO: Yeah. There was a dharma encounter several years
ago when I brought up a thought experiment that I had heard
from a friend of mine: What if the Buddha was a woman. All
the ancestors were women. All the teachers here were women.
And most of the books written about the dharma were by
women and most of the monastics were women. As a man
what would that feel like to come in here? Would you be able
to study the dharma in that kind of setting? That isn’t something that men have to think about. But women do have to
think about it. And certainly non-white people have to think
about it. What if all the teachers were black? What if most of
the sangha was black? As a white person would I come in feeling like I could study the dharma here? We must be talking
about it and noticing it all the time. Zen in the United States
and Zen here has not been some kind of neutral field. It has
been white, male.
Question the tradition!
BIRGITTE: Same as the culture. Or maybe a little bit better
than the average culture?
ZUIKO: Maybe, maybe not. I think we are starting to recognize that we train in forms of practice here that have been
handed down throughout the centuries as skillful means for
transforming your life and realizing liberation. These ancient
forms get mixed with our cultural norms in the U.S. like
white supremacy, patriarchy, capitalism, ageism and so on -
and we end up conflating the skillful and transformative with
“the way we do things here.” I think living in the dynamic
tension of continually discerning these two things - the skillful means of an ancient wisdom tradition and “the way we
do things” - is vital to create a place of true belonging for
everyone who wants to practice the dharma.
BIRGITTE: Right.
ZUIKO: Just think about the form of sesshin. Sesshin was
developed in Chinese monasteries to curb the energies of
young 20-something monks, to wear them out so they could
focus on the matter at hand. But for a person who’s 78 years
old, is sesshin the best form that training can take, or is it just
hard on a person? Another example is a friend of mine who’s
a queer black person. So for those whose daily life is a series of
moments of feeling unsafe, uncomfortable or not welcome,
coming into an environment like this where renunciation is
held up as the way, is that skillful for everyone? Or is creating
a place of deep comfort, safety and welcome more skillful?
For somebody like Shugen (3) who’s a white guy navigating the
world, making happen all the things he wants to happen in
his life, renunciation is really powerful.
Same for me, I’ve always been able to go through my life
and know that I can make things happen. So coming here
and having to share bathrooms and wake up at a particular
time, not getting everything I want, has been an extremely
skillful way for me to train. But for friends of mine who grew
up poor, whose life is renunciation because they don’t have
enough, to come here and be told that the way is to renounce
and to be a little bit uncomfortable, I think is coming from a
very particular perspective. And we don’t see it as a perspective - we’re like “well, this is Zen training”. And I’m asking
what is Zen training when you have multiple marginalized identities or if you’re poor or disabled or just an older person
who needs more sleep? And these conversations are now happening, but I have just been really hammering at it.
We ran a program down at the temple (4) earlier this year
that was just for people of colour, and in planning it the two
instructors were really helpful in guiding us on how to create
the right kind of space and environment for it. They advised:
“There should be cookies out all day, all the time, so people
can eat whenever they want. And there should be coffee and
tea out all the time so that people can be comfortable.” I
was taking that in, I hadn’t thought of that. She said “When
you’re life is constantly negotiating racism, your place of practice should be a refuge, a nest.” Which is interesting because
Daido Roshi (5) would often say that practice and training is
about getting pushed out of the nest.
BIRGITTE: At the edge of the cliff, throw yourself off.
ZUIKO: Skillful practice should unnerve the comfortable,
and comfort those who are uncomfortable every day. We
don’t have that, we have just this one way. We are talking
about it, but… sesshin is still sesshin, and you know I love
sesshin. I don’t think we should just get rid of everything.
The whining noise of conditioning
ZUIKO: I remember very clearly when I was in discernment
working on my vows: What does the vow of service mean to
me as a woman? As a woman I am deeply conditioned to put
others´ needs before my own and to make sure everyone else
is okay, to take care of everyone else. Some of the vows are
not a stretch, instead they’re reinforcing my conditioning. So
many of these monastic deeds and virtues mean something
different than to a man who has a certain feeling of entitlement. So that was an active question for me: what does it
actually mean for me to serve?
I do have to serve. I also think that part of my service is
having boundaries and knowing what my needs are. Male
teachers and male monastics might not understand this. I
also noticed that women around here for a long time did a
lot of the so-called invisible tasks, like taking notes during
meetings and being the first to volunteer to do things. This
has changed somewhat. But I remember thinking “why are
the women always doing this?” There needs to be a kind of
squeaky wheel, our patterns are so deeply conditioned. It’s
not mysterious. There are traditional gender roles being
played out.
BIRGITTE: Yes. Absolutely. And I feel like you need a fine
razor to cut the line there. To be able to even see it. And stand
by it in the face of “there’s something the matter with your
perception of reality” – and still standing by it.
ZUIKO: Totally. This matters so much. Especially in an environment which is so idealized. Where people think “Oh,
people here are so enlightened”. But you know, they are just
people. They are good people. And let´s really bring our humanity to the table. All of it. Let’s not pretend, and in that
way, create false harmony.
BIRGITTE: Yes. These things are so difficult to change in a
culture. So a contemplative community is a place where you
should have the opportunity to really look at it.
ZUIKO: Exactly. What is our practice for if we’re not using
it to apply it to exactly these things.
BIRGITTE: I remember identifying with the ideal of an enlightened ungendered reality when I was in my early to mid
20’s. Then I was made aware of my gender by being treated
differently myself because of my body/gender.
ZUIKO: Yeah, I think when you speak about realizing you
are being gendered and being made aware of your gender,
that is an experience that women, transgender or non-binary
people have. I don’t know how gendered men feel. In the
same way that white people don’t feel racialized either. It’s
the invisibility of the universal identity. I feel like men in
the sangha sometimes talk about gender and race as if they
themselves are outside of the conversation. So when the Me
Too movement happened, an older white man in the sangha
came to me and asked: “what can I do to help?,” which is
beautiful - what a question! There is a way in which white
people ask black people “what can I do to help?,” and men
ask women “what can I do to help?” - so I told him, “if you
could look at your own suffering under patriarchy, what has
patriarchy done to you?
As women, we know about this with respect to patriarchy.
And men can kind of go through not paying attention. I
would love for the men to have their own group where they
get together and talk about what a shitty deal it is for them
too. To not be able to be vulnerable, to not be able to express
a full range of emotions, to not ask for help - that sucks for
them.
In the same way as a white person, I get in touch with my
suffering around white supremacy. I’m doing it because I realize it’s hurting me, not for somebody else. And I think until
men find their own suffering within patriarchy, it’s really hard
for them to feel a part of the world or they feel resentful and
left out. We can never be inside another person’s experience.
But this gives us a way to go deeply into our own experience.
There is a deep spiritual aspect of ourselves that needs to be
recovered.
In zazen we’re working with what arises in our mind. How
do we make visible what’s designed to be invisible? I think the
way to bring that into consciousness is relationally, and that’s
why it’s so important to do work together as a community.
Only when someone gives you feedback can you start to see
something about yourself.
The Dharma diamond shines on every surface
BIRGITTE: What challenges can you mention in getting
people to do this work as a community?
ZUIKO: One thing that we hear a lot is “I don’t understand
what this has to do with the Dharma. I didn’t come here for
this. I didn’t come here to study race and gender. I came here
to study the Dharma.” As if anything is outside the dharma.
Lots of people get emotional about this, especially here in the
United States, like we’re not supposed to talk about it.
BIRGITTE: Yes, what is the dharma, right? In the first of the
Four Great Vows we vow to save all sentient beings. People,
animals and entire ecosystems are dying right now. The work
isn’t just about getting a magical enlightenment and save all
life with your golden charisma. So what is the work of a Boddhisattva, right? It’s actually difficult work, which will affect
your zazen.
ZUIKO: Yes, how to have a peaceful mind or maintain your
serenity in the midst of suffering. For many years, my cushion was the place where I went for things to just be calm and
quiet. At what point does that become too narrow of a focus?
Practice isn’t necessarily about not being comfortable, but
how do you find your comfort and where is your practice in
the midst of someone pointing out that you said something
racist? Where is your practice in the midst of feeling implicated in systems of oppression? What is your concentration
for if not to be applied to situations that are hard, painful and
disruptive to our sense of self?
Letting go of the self is not an abstract moment, it is getting direct feedback about how you’re harming someone,
even though you didn’t mean to. Taking that in is letting go
of the self. It’s not some magical moment on your cushion
necessarily. It’s that very real moment when you feel like
you’re dying - because you are! The sense of yourself as a good
person is dying, because you’re more than just a good person.
You’re a complete person. Who creates harm? I mean, I create
harm all day long, with what I eat, what I wear and what I am
not paying attention to. Just get over the whole good person
trip. You know, it’s a trap. And I think this [the monastery,
the dharma] is a place where people who really want to be
good come. And try to feel like good people. And we all are.
We’re everything, you know.
Footnotes
1. Hosan service is when everyone who lives at the monastery is off from
the normal monastic schedule. At ZMM hosan is from Sunday at
13:30 until Tuesday at 14:00.
2. Mumankan, The Gateless Barrier, is a koan collection from the 12th13th century with 48 koans.
3. Shugen Roshi is the abbot at ZMM.
4. ZMM has a city satellite, known simply as the temple, in Brooklyn,
New York.
5. Daido Roshi Loori was ZMM’s founder and second abbot. This year it
is 10 years since he died.