| FEMINISM AND BUDDHISM By Maitreyi |
When I first learned to meditate at the London Buddhist Centre in the early eighties my life was in considerable upheaval. I had just turned 30 and had been working for a year at the women's Aid refuge in Leeds in the north of England. For the six years before that I was actively involved in the women's liberation movement in London. I identified quite strongly as a feminist though I was somewhat confused as to what kind of feminist; it was hard to keep up with the development of the new groupings which so rapidly emerged during the seventies and early eighties. Feminism had given my life a meaning and focus which had been lacking, a structure through which to understand the world and my life up to this point, and many new and creative outlets for action.
I was drawn to working in a women's Aid refuge because I wanted to make a real contribution to changing women's lives, and to put into practice some of the theory I had learned in years of discussion in consciousness-raising groups and numerous women's conferences and events. However, working in the refuge brought me sharply up against the limitations of some of those theories. It was clear that refuges were much needed. Many women were subject to violence at the hands of their husbands or partners, some severely so. The refuge provided an oasis in which they could find companionship and support, re-evaluate their lives, and eventually be rehoused and begin a new life with their children. For some women this was a lifeline, and they were able to make a fresh start. Others, within weeks of being rehoused, had taken in their partners again and were once more living in an atmosphere of fear and violence.
Faced with these facts, I was forced to question my ideas. Giving women the opportunity to live an independent life was not enough.There were deeper emotional and psychological issues which a new home and welfare benefits did not address. The lack of real friendship was one, as was the lack of real community. Feminist theories, to the extent that I understood them, did not tackle these deeper emotional issues. Neither did they address the increasingly angry debates taking place within the women's movement, which led to more and more exclusive groupings. In some circles it seemed no longer possible to communicate with another woman unless she shared the same race, class, and sexual orientation.
Much as I still related to what I saw as the positive aspects of feminism, I could not erase from my consciousness the graffito I had glimpsed from the top deck of a bus, close to an area in which I had lived for many years: 'Kill Men.' I can still feel the recoil in my guts. How could I identify with a movement, an extreme faction of which spawned such hatred? My heart and mind cried out for something much more all-embracing than what I had found so far, something that could give meaning to the lives of both women and men, and that could overcome hatred. What I longed for, did I but know it, was compassion, and the wisdom of the Enlightened mind.
In my early days of involvement with the London Buddhist Centre and the FWBO, I experienced a sense of homecoming, but it was not without ambivalence. My response to learning meditation and hearing the Buddha's teaching was wholehearted, but I had mixed responses and reactions to the public face of the FWBO. I was attracted by the emphasis on separate women's and men's activities and institutions; there were women's retreats, women's residential communities, and women's co-operative businesses. It was encouraging to see that the idealism of such collective practices had not been undermined by cynicism. At the same time I missed a certain dynamism and excitement that had fuelled the feminist projects I had been part of, a sense that anything could happen, could come into being, if one only had the will and energy to make it so. I felt concerned that activities at the Buddhist centre were almost entirely run by men. There were fewer ordained women than men and far fewer women involved in public teaching of meditation and Buddhism.
My feminist antennae were on the alert. Although actively engaged in working in one of the women's businesses, a vegetarian restaurant, and regularly attending classes at the Centre, I reserved judgement on the members of the Sangha and the workings of the movement. Was Buddhism compatible with feminism or was it inherently patriarchal? Did this new Buddhist movement break new ground in teaching and practising Buddhism in a way that was as relevant to women as it was to men?
The fact that I am now a Dharmacharini, a member of the Western Buddhist Order, makes it evident that I came to a satisfactory resolution of these questions. But I would like to investigate both feminism and Buddhism more closely in order to clarify the points of overlap and divergence between them, and to attempt to provide some ideas that may be of use to others who are grappling with the same issues. In making this investigation I will be asking to what extent feminism, and Buddhism, enable women to change both themselves and the world, to overcome a limited view of what they are capable of, and to be effective in the world so that they can realize their full potential.
First, what is feminism? I have found it almost impossible to arrive at a satisfactory definition. There seem to be almost as many versions of feminism as there are women (or men) who call themselves feminists. The best general description I have come up with is that feminism is both an ideology and a reform movement based on the belief that women have been, and are, discriminated against because of their sex.
It may be more helpful to begin by looking at the ‘why' of feminism rather than the ‘what'. This involves examining our recent history. I am restricting my account to a short period of the history of women in Britain, as it is in this country that I have had most experience of feminism.
It is important to know our history as women. For Mary Wollstonecraft, writing in the eighteenth century, the position of women in society was plain: they were a subspecies of humanity ‘It is time to restore women to their lost dignity and to make them ... part of the human species,' she wrote in impassioned vein in 1791. Fifty years later, following the legal abolition of slavery, John Stuart Mill was of the opinion that ‘There remain no legal slaves anywhere in the British Empire except for the woman in every man's home.'
Until the end of the nineteenth century women had no civil rights, could not own property, vote, make wills, testify in court, or serve on juries. They could not obtain divorces, and their children belonged, according to the law, exclusively to the father. If married, a woman was the property of her husband; if unmarried, the property of her father. Until 1885, scarcely more than a hundred years ago, a man could still sell his wife or daughter for the purposes of prostitution. (The law passed in 1885 made it illegal to sell or kidnap a girl for the purposes of prostitution until she was 16 years old.) In 1889 a test case prompted the passing of a further law which forbade men to keep their wives imprisoned under lock and key.
But it was not until 1918, more than a century after Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Women was published, that the first organized women's political movement, commonly known as the Suffragettes, brought about women's suffrage, the right of women to vote. The following year saw the Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act which allowed women to enter the professions.
A contemporary account by Ida Alexa Wylie gives a flavour of the excitement and emotional liberation experienced by these women: ‘For two years of wild and sometimes dangerous adventure I worked and fought alongside vigorous, happy, well-adjusted women. I slept on hard floors between elderly duchesses, stout cooks and young schoolgirls. We were often tired, hurt and frightened. But we were content as we had never been. We shared a joy of life that we had never known.'
Twentieth-century women owe a great deal to these early feminists. Without their efforts we might still be regarded as the property of father or husband without the freedom to choose our way of life. These women thought the unthinkable and dared to express it. Whatever we may think of their methods, we do stand on their shoulders.
Changes in law, however crucial, do not immediately or necessarily create changes in behaviour and consciousness. The whole weight of women's cultural and gender conditioning, as well as the entrenched attitudes of society, were stacked against them in their efforts towards individual emancipation. The next wave of feminism sought to explore gender conditioning: to what extent were women and men formed by their biology and to what extent by their cultural conditioning? It also sought to propound an ideology of a dialectic of sex. Taking Karl Marx's perspective one step further, sex war replaced class war as the ‘truth' of history In this war man has the role of the oppressor, woman the role of the oppressed. This ideology led to visions of a future in which women would be completely freed from their reproductive function, thus striking at the root of their oppression. Other branches of feminism imagined a utopia in which, conversely, women's biology was celebrated, in which ‘female' values of nurture and creativity would be supreme - a naive vision of a matriarchy free from war and aggression.
Feminists continued to protest, demonstrate, agitate. They protested against the sex discrimination that persisted in many places of work and education; against the presence of nuclear weapons in Britain; against the way women were depicted in the media; against pornography They agitated for better provision of child care so that more women could participate in the wider world. All over Britain women's centres sprang up, women's bookshops, women's refuges, women's health centres and self-help groups. The late sixties and seventies was a time of unprecedented activity and enthusiasm among thousands of women of diverse age, race, sexual orientation, and class background. The slogan ‘Sisterhood is Powerful' resounded throughout the country.
It is in describing this period that the terms feminism and feminist cease to have coherent meaning. What has been retrospectively referred to as feminism was at the time called ‘the women's movement' or ‘the women's liberation movement', a description which gave a better idea of the diverse range of views, lifestyles, and interests of the many women who were involved. It is, however, possible to discern two broad theoretical trends in the response to discrimination against women. The first of these is ‘liberal feminism'. This approach sees woman as no better or worse than man, intellectually or morally, but as simply human. As such she is entitled to equal opportunities in work and self-development. Liberal feminists are generally concerned with campaigning for changes in legislation to redress inequalities, especially in the area of work and financial independence, focusing on such things as equal pay removal of discrimination in employment, provision of child care for working women, maternity leave, and so on.
The second approach is that of ‘radical feminism'. Radical feminists see the inequalities of a woman's situation as the result of patriarchy, a deliberate attempt by men to conserve power in their own hands and thereby to oppress women by depriving them of this power. They place a high value on women's concerns and achievements and view women as both sexually pure and mystically nurturing, whereas men are seen as aggressive and violent. Radical feminists are generally more concerned with issues to do with sex and violence; for example, demonstrating and campaigning against rape and pornography and initiating the ‘Reclaim the Night' marches of the seventies.
In describing these two trends within feminism I want to emphasize that they are broad generalizations and cannot do justice to the activities and experiences of many individual women who call themselves feminists. But making this distinction does give a starting point for a more in-depth discussion as to the relative merits for women's development of feminism and Buddhism.
What is Buddhism? This term covers many schools of thought and methods of practice and is difficult to define in a few words. The word Buddhism' is a modern Western term; in the East, Buddhists speak of the ‘Buddha-Dharma' or simply ‘Dharma'. The Buddha was a human being who by diligent effort and practice attained the state of consciousness that has since been called Enlightenment. He then communicated this experience through words and images to his followers to help them also to become Enlightened. This teaching of the Buddha is the Dharma. It is both the truth itself and any teaching which helps us to realize this truth for ourselves. Buddhism is essentially a path of development by which we can grow beyond our particular conditioning and realize our full human potential.
We can now begin to see the link between Buddhism and feminism. Both are concerned with emancipation, with overcoming the limitations of our conditioning and restricted self-view. Both recognize that to achieve this there have to be changes in consciousness, and not merely changes in the external world; and by this recognition both go beyond the sphere of political activity in which external change is of paramount importance.
In this respect it is worth mentioning two phenomena which arose out of the women's movement of the sixties and seventies: the consciousness-raising group and the idea that the personal is political. Both were means for focusing on the importance of inner change and of putting one's ideals into practice on an everyday level. My own experience of being in a consciousness-raising group was crucial to my development. It is hard to believe now that it was a radical thing then for women simply to meet together to discuss issues concerning women. We looked at our conditioning as women: the effect that our upbringing and society at large had had in shaping us - mostly encouraging the development of receptive, nurturing qualities and discouraging more robust, outgoing qualities. These explorations were a revelation to me. They helped me to make a shift from ‘This is how things are' to ‘Why should things be this way?' This shift raised the possibility of change.
But change in what way or in what direction? In order to be beneficial change needs to be progressive, not just a swinging between action and reaction. Changing my fixed patterns of behaviour and methods of relating through feminism was definitely beneficial to me. But the changes and consciousness-raising brought about by my practice of Buddhism were far more radical and far-reaching. Buddhism is concerned with spiritual development, the development of skilful mental states and the eradication of unskilful mental states. Unskilful mental states are those consisting of or associated with craving, hatred, and delusion, the three poisons which are the causes of suffering in the world. Skilful mental states are those consisting of or associated with the absence of these three poisons - states associated with peace of mind, friendliness, and wisdom.
This opens up an ethical dimension which is absent in both liberal and radical feminism. This is not to say that feminists do not express strong views about what is right (morally and politically speaking) and what is wrong. But there is no consensus among feminists about the criteria that distinguish ethical from unethical actions. According to Buddhism the practice of ethics is the necessary basis upon which higher states of consciousness can arise. These states, combined with reflection on the Dharma, can lead in turn to insight into reality an understanding of human life that goes far beyond the intellectual and brings about a fundamental change in our being and our relationship with others. Feminism does bring about change, but it is change on a psychological and social level. Though this level of change can help us to overcome some of our restrictive conditioning as women it does not begin to give us access to our full potential as human beings. Indeed, some aspects of feminism are inimical to this process.
In an interview in Dakini, a magazine for women Buddhists, Sangharakshita talks about the aspects of feminism he considers to be a hindrance to spiritual development. He makes a distinction between feminism and Feminism which I think largely corresponds to the one I have made between liberal and radical feminism. The first, he says, ‘is the attitude that a woman, no less than a man, should be free to develop whatever capacities and interests she has'. My experience of feminism in this sense causes me to think that it has had much to offer women who wish to grow and develop. It helps us to look at our conditioning as women and therefore to see that we can change. It widens our horizons and shows us that we have options other than to be a wife, mother, or ‘single woman'. It creates a culture that values the communication of women's experience. It encourages the development of skills and abilities that allow us to create things in the world and to participate in public life. Without these skills women are confined to the domestic sphere or dwell in the inner world of the psyche. Every human being needs a degree of autonomy both material and emotional, in order to become an individual. Feminism has, I think, been a strong force in creating the conditions for women's autonomy.
Of Feminism (with a capital F) Sangharakshita says that it ‘covers many other attitudes. One of these is the tendency to see woman as victim.' To identify oneself as a victim is not helpful to one's development. It undermines one's capacity to take the initiative and act creatively however difficult the situation. In this shift from feminism to Feminism the idea that women have been discriminated against becomes the basis for an ideology a dogma that does not allow for the individuality either of the woman who upholds it or of the man she casts in the role of oppressor. Such an ideology, as Sangharakshita points out, also encourages hatred, and hatred is utterly incompatible with the Dharma. Moreover, it creates oppression within its own sphere: certain views become taboo and politically incorrect and are not allowed expression. A group mentality prevails. Bonding with other women against the ‘enemy' is not the same as true friendship. One of the fundamental practices of Buddhism is the development of loving-kindness or metta; and metta does not distinguish between male and female. Within this ideology there is also the confusion of power with freedom. Feminists demand the transference of power from the oppressor to themselves, the oppressed - but there is no guarantee at all that women would use that power, once gained, in a better way. Men and women are equally afflicted by greed, hatred, and delusion.
From a Buddhist perspective feminism is clearly not enough. It is only a possible starting point in our efforts to develop true individuality For while feminism asks us to look at our gender conditioning, Buddhism asks us to look at our conditioning as human beings, at how the poisons of greed, hatred, and delusion underpin everything we do and limit us to habitual reactive patterns. While feminism investigates the dichotomy between men and women, male and female, Buddhism urges us to strive to overcome the dichotomy of self and other, the view of ourselves as the centre of the universe, a fixed self separate from other beings. In overcoming this dichotomy we eventually transcend identification with being either male or female.
No branch of the women's movement, whether feminist or Feminist, addresses the fundamental facts of the human condition. The investigations do not go deep enough, the goal is too limited, the scope does not take in the full range of human experience. Buddhism offers us a far greater challenge; it demands much more of us - and has much more of value to give in return. It was the gradual understanding of this bigger picture that caused me to ask for ordination into the Western Buddhist Order in 1987, to come off the fence and commit myself to the task of realizing my potential both as a woman and as a human being.
But it still remains to answer my question: ‘Is Buddhism inherently patriarchal?' Am I deluded in thinking I can make real progress as a woman in a spiritual movement founded by a man - even if he was a Buddha, an Enlightened man - and perpetuated on the whole by men?
When the Buddha's attendant Ananda asked him whether women were capable of gaining Enlightenment, the Buddha was unequivocal in his response. He said that they were. So saying, he admitted women into his community of spiritual renunciants. They left behind their homes, families, and possessions, begged for almsfood, and lived a life of meditation and contemplation in the forests of India.
For women to take this step in the society of his time was revolutionary By agreeing to it, the Buddha could in fact be regarded as one of the earliest feminists, in that he made his decision not on the basis of women's traditional role and society's norms but on the basis of their potential for development. The Therigatha (‘Psalms of the Sisters'), which documents the experiences of these first women renunciants, attests to their achievements. Many became Enlightened; some were renowned as Dharma teachers and had many disciples.
In the centuries following the Buddha's death the organization of his followers became more institutionalized and centred on monasteries. Within this structure the achievements of women practitioners were no longer recorded or recognized to the same extent, and gradually the full ordination of women died out in most of the Buddhist world. This lack of full participation by women in the spiritual life is clearly not in accord with the Buddha's own teaching.
Returning to the original spirit of the Buddha's teaching, Sangharakshita has established an order which is neither lay nor monastic and in which women and men receive equal ordination. Both are free to take up any position of responsibility within the movement. As well as giving this equality of opportunity, the structure of the movement enables both women and men to develop on a broader basis and gain access to both ‘masculine' and ‘feminine' aspects of themselves. Beyond introductory level and outside public centres, most activities are organized on the basis of same gender, so that the movement has a women's wing and a men's wing. The women's wing runs its own retreats, has its own retreat centres, and conducts an ordination process for women. Many women live together in residential communities and run a variety of businesses.
In the early days of my involvement with the FWBO the process of establishing these two wings was just beginning. With hindsight I can see that my experience of entering the movement was coloured by this development. From my feminist perspective the women I met, though friendly and having a certain depth, seemed to lack the dynamism and exuberance I associated with my friends in the women's movement; the men, while welcoming me to the Centre, seemed reluctant to form any personal relationship with me. Of course in retrospect I can see that it was a very daunting prospect at that time for the women to begin the process of establishing their own facilities, and the men were wary of looking to women for emotional support.
Today the outlook is very different and the fruits of practising within a same-gender environment are apparent. I was among the first group of women ordained by the women preceptors to whom Sangharakshita passed on this responsibility in 1989. At the London Buddhist Centre there are now 29 women Order members, many of them involved in teaching public classes, giving talks, and leading Dharma study A further fifty women involved with this one centre alone have asked for ordination. This is just a small proportion of the women around the world who are increasingly discovering that the practice of Buddhism can provide a context and a method for change and growth, a context which can take them beyond the limitations caused by the conditioning of gender, race, and class. I remain grateful to feminism for providing me with the doorway through which I have been able to enter the realm of the Dharma.
First published in 'the Moon and Flowers', 1997