Men, Women, Blogging, Debating, and Relating

Pulling together a few threads from the Buddhoblogosphere:

There is some ongoing conversation about the different ways men and women participate (or don't) in blogging. I can't say that I've been involved in blogging long enough to have much of an opinion about this, but I have been learning a lot, and really appreciate NellaLou at Enlightenment Ward for initiating some intelligent questions about this.

Then yesterday, Nathan at Dangerous Harvests posed a question to the Buddhist blogging community about where the "line" is between the topics we do and no not blog about. This was in response to Mumon at Notes in Samsara, who, in a recent post, stated that he does not blog or even share about his practice with anyone but his teacher, as it leads to competitiveness.

One lens I have been using to understand much of this is provided by the research of George Washington University linguist, Deborah Tannen. She has been studying the communication patterns of men and women; how they differ, and why men and women might continually be misunderstanding one another. She even categorizes this as "cross cultural" communication. Her book, You Just Don't Understand, while getting on in years, is still a helpful tool in understanding and normalizing the different communication styles of men and women.

Tannen studies the communication patterns of boys and girls, which is where the communication patterns and cultural norms of men and women are formed.

"For women, as for girls, intimacy is the fabric of relationships, and talk is the thread from which it is woven. Little girls create and maintain friendships by exchanging secrets; similarly, women regard conversation as the cornerstone of friendship...What is important is not the individual subjects that are discussed but the sense of closeness, of a life shared, that emerges when people tell their thoughts, feelings, and impressions.

Bonds between boys can be as intense as girls', but they are based less on talking, more on doing things together. Boys' groups are larger, more inclusive, and more hierarchical, so boys must struggle to avoid the subordinate position in the group."

She describes that boys and men tend to use talk to establish and maintain hierarchies, and that this is often at the root of many a wife's complaint about a husband who "won't talk" when he gets home -- he does not feel the need to.

Then today, Nathan posts (how do you all post so frequently and keep up with one another?) about noticing the way many blogs, the content of which are much more personal, seem to get a lot less attention, or at least a lot less comments, but "the posts which routinely recieve a pile of comments are dramatic, irreverent, or deliberately contraversial."

Well I haven't read it yet, but Deborah Tannen has written a book on this too: The Argument Culture is her examination of this very phenomenon now pervading so many aspects of our lives. You can read a great article about it here.

Deborah Tannen again:

"In his book "Fighting for Life," Walter Ong points out that men use "agonistic" or warlike, oppositional formats to do almost anything; thus discussion becomes debate, and conversation a competitive sport. In contrast, women see conversation as a ritual means of establishing rapport. If Jane tells a problem and June says she has a similar one, they walk away feeling closer to each other. But this attempt at establishing rapport can backfire when used with men. Men take too literally women's ritual "troubles talk," just as women mistake men's ritual challenges for real attack."

Not that any one way is "bad" or wrong", but as NellaLou has pointed out, there is a spectrum somewhere between "catatonic and hysterical" which leaves an awfully large swathe of Middle Way. And this could shed some light on the different ways as well as the different reasons men and women blog.

Tannen adds the disclaimer:

"This is not to say that all women and all men, or all boys and girls, behave any one way. Many factors influence our styles, including regional and ethnic backgrounds, family experience and individual personality. But gender is a key factor, and understanding its influence can help clarify what happens when we talk."

Indeed, my own very general impressions have been that Buddhist women's blogs do lean more towards the personal / practice side of the spectrum, and men's more towards talking about worldly events and inviting discussion / debate about things.

These questions have caused me to ponder why I blog. Initially, I thought it would be a way for my friends (the ones I knew before) to keep up with me. This is who I thought I would be talking to. Some of my friends indeed are avid readers of this blog, and it is really handy to write and share about my experiences with Zen practice here. However, it turns out, a good amount of my friends are not very interested in this media at all.

Surprisingly to me, I have found that a whole community of Buddhist practitioners is interested in this media, and whom I find very interesting. It turns out that one of the reasons I blog is to connect with this community. And not surprisingly to me, the way I seem to be doing that is by sharing my personal experience with practice. Because I have no interest in jumping into any fray of debate with anyone.

I want to end with and echo this comment about "the line of telling and not telling", from another amazing woman Buddhist blogger at zendotstudio:

"For me one of the first things I noticed and truly admired about my Zen teacher was her sense of transparency, her willingness to share her daily practice with us. And truly that was the real beginning of my own practice. I learned so much by seeing how she manouvered her way through small situations, what bothered her, how she worked with it. It was the best instruction for me.

And of course everyone needs to decide where the comfort level of transparency is for them. And to look at why, perhaps?

And there is a phrase I remember from Dharma talks and I don't know who this it attributed to, "if you know one mango, you know them all." Your stuff, my stuff, it's not all that different. I think we write our blogs for many different reasons but I think it is always an offering."

Zen Women - It All Comes Back to Childcare

This just in - Buddhist Geeks interviews Grace Schireson about her new book, Zen Women which tops the list for my next trip to Powell's.

Grace Shireson has been studying the women in Zen stories, koans, literature and lineage. In the interview, she notes that often the women in the stories and koans are characters (objects), when the subjects are usually the male monks. For example, she notes that there are many stories of "mere" tea ladies whose understanding surpasses the male monks, and this aspect of the situation makes it all that much more humiliating. This is where Zen gets its macho rep. Even the women are made of iron. At least Dogen laid it down in the 1200's that women who have understanding are no different and should be respected as teachers. So you'd think this would have manifested in the history of Zen practice. Of course, reality has many more dimensions.

Teacher Hui Kong, Kuang Jiao Si

But the highlight in the interview is her discovery that the value of studying women ancestors is this: The women ancestors had to figure out how to adapt traditional monastic practice to a practice more centered around home and family.

Cutest baby in China, Second Ancestor's Village

Indeed, it is already something I can observe in Sangha members around me -- that having children requires a practice that is not centered around a monastery, long retreats, or even coming to a Zendo to sit from 7:30 - 9 :30 in the evenings (hello? bedtime!). Having children kind of takes you out of the community practice game for a few years. Hopefully there's a good foundation of practice, some semblance of Sangha support, and maybe even a dog-eared copy of Jon and Myla Kabat-Zinn's Everyday Blessings: The Inner Work of Mindful Parenting lying around somewhere.

Grace Shireson posits that our female ancestors authenticate the value of lay practice as a viable Path to Awakening. Similarly, Zen in the West must address the needs of householders. And IMHO, childcare is at the top of that list of needs.

It looks like my karma does not include being a biological mother in this lifetime. My Path and work as a social worker and therapist has for many years included working primarily with women in crisis, and this overwhelmingly means supporting mothers. That is an area of need that appears bottomless. It looks like my own life Path is that of an allomother and a support person to mothers and parents to some degree. The child-free path does enable my husband and me to focus on and deepen our own practice in more traditional ways (retreats, monastic stays, frequent community practice and organizational participation). But how can this practice benefit those who are raising children?

When we did a two-day Sangha-building retreat last year called "Upholding the Sangha Treasure", we looked deeply into the needs of our Sangha and where to turn our attention to cultivating growth. We narrowed the list to ten things. Two of these things relate to the needs of parents and families in the Sangha; specifically having childcare available during practice periods, and creating a workgroup to focus on the needs of children and families in the Sangha, and how to meet those needs. But until we have our own physical space that can accommodate doing more than two things at a time (zazen upstairs, intro to meditation downstairs), this will remain an aspiration. But it is an aspiration that has been called into being, and one that I have a very strong intention to realize.

Wild Goose Pagoda, Xi'an, China

The sweetness of women never ceases to delight me.

This story begins with The Festival Hankie:
I think this hankie came from an antique store on "Antiques Row" in Sellwood, once a suburb of Portland. I think I bought it when I first moved to Portland and was still doing fun, touristy things, like visiting Sellwood.

"The Festival" is the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival, to which I have been making the pilgrimage for 16 consecutive years (until just this past August). There, in womyn-only space, I get to spend a whole week with my sisters from all over the country, and all over the world. We all converge on this place, to create this place, for one week out of the year which is like no other.

In a place without men, the threat of stranger-perpetrated violence is just about absent*. That's just the truth of the matter. And to have the opportunity to let go of the 24-hour vigilance that is reality for women everywhere causes something amazing to happen: Joy erupts. It takes a lot of energy to be vigilant. And when all that energy is available for something else, and I happen to be in a place with 4,000 other women who are also channeling that energy into fun... well, it's about as sweet as can be.

My best girlfriends and I camp together and meet every morning and evening in a camping-gazebo we have to haul in from Portland, or Cleveland, or wherever we are coming from. And in this safe little container within a safe big container, reconnecting with each other, we usually end up processing some sensitive, deep, painful material. And also laughing a lot.

One way or another, inevitably, there are tears.

It wasn't with this in mind that I happened to have it on me one night in the gazebo-- the hankie, that is. But I did, and it was a tearful moment for my dear girlfriend Amy P. When suddenly presented with this sweet, soft floral hankie, she enjoyed it so much that she started laughing, and to this day, we don't remember why she was crying.

So that year, or maybe it was the next year, there was a craftswomon who was using these old floral hankies and stamping words on them. Amy bought me a hankie with some flowers and ferns embroidered on it and the word "feminist," which I used as a little nightstand decoration then, too.

And then she sent me this one:
This hankie, you may recall, was featured in its very own blog post in June called "Sesshin Sweetness." I place all my nightstand and toiletry items on it at every Sesshin I attend. It includes the reminder in the corner that every day is a good day.

~~~

We recently had our Jukai ceremony. Jukai is a ceremony in which people are essentially committing to the path of Buddhism. They ask to be given the Sixteen Bodhisattva Precepts. Beforehand, they take classes in the precepts, attend at least two Sesshin, make a chart of the lineage all the way back to Shakyamuni Buddha, and sew a rakusu, a small version of a Zen robe. So in this ceremony, the teachers give them the precepts, their "robe" and a Dharma name. It is incredibly meaningful.

Four people took Jukai, and two took the Five Precepts. There were a lot of family and friends in the audience, many of whom had never and maybe would have never stepped foot into a Zendo! Whenever there is a Jukai ceremony, it is an opportunity for the rest of the community to take the precepts in our hearts right along with those in front of the teachers. It is a very active, meaningful ceremony for everyone involved.

So it was not surprising that there were tears. From someone in the ceremony.

Where I was seated, I couldn't see their faces, but Shinju, who was seated right up close to the ceremony in the audience looked to me and indicated need for kleenex.

The zendo was absolutely packed, and I was all the way in the back. Getting kleenex from downstairs would have been disruptive, but it was really early in the ceremony. Ah! I recalled the hankie, neatly folded in my pocket, and unobtrusively handed it to her.
After the ceremony, I enjoyed letting the newly-named Yushin know that this hankie had its own lineage. Now that it had now been employed in dabbing Jukai-induced tears, well that added another layer of preciousness onto it for me!

Yushin asked if she could please return it to me washed.

I got it back yesterday, in a cute little bag, and when I took it out to put it in my samue pocket, I found this:
Another beautiful, soft, floral hankie. Thank you, Yushin! May such sweetness continue to extend out into the four corners and in the ten directions.



*Yes, there are other places where this threat is practically absent: A house with many deadbolts, the monastery grounds, etc. Yes, women can and do perpetrate violence. But not as much as men do, and not usually towards strangers. Yes, there are non-violent males. I'm married to one.

Bowing To and With Dogen

I thought Buddhism was just another patriarchal religion; another situation in which yet another dude was set apart from everybody else and venerated. I figured I would have to translate things for myself, changing all the pronouns again, and I was not interested in another religion in which women were not visible or reflected in any way without a lot of research or imagination.

I jumped into Buddhist practice with both feet once I learned about the existence of Kwan Yin. She helped bridge what seemed to me to be a patriarchal gap -- okay, chasm-- between me and Buddhism.

Kwan Yin

But from time to time, some patriarchal remnants would come up. Like the stories of the Buddha initially being unwilling to allow women into the Sangha: The Buddha allegedly even denied his own mother (actually his wet nurse / stepmother who raised him) until his personal attendant Ananda interceded for her and hundreds of other women who wanted the teachings too.

Buddha with Ananda, Longmen Caves, China

In some Buddhist traditions, they try to live the way the Buddha lived, and follow all the rules the Buddha taught, called the Vinaya. And within those rules, I would hear about the special rules for women; an additional hundred or so on top of the two hundred or so for the men. But I never noticed any special rules being applied to women in our Sangha at all, in fact, our Sangha is led by a woman. And anyway, I was too busy trying to figure out stuff like posture, breathing, what to do with the songs coursing through my head and what not.

Chozen

So I have gradually learned more about Buddhist history and these rules. For instance, right before the Buddha died, he told dear Ananda to tell the rest of the Sangha to just drop all the less important rules. Well once he was dead, the remaining followers couldn't agree which rules were less important, so they just kept all of them.

I also learned that nothing the Buddha actually said was written down until a few hundred years later. Think about it -- a 300-year-long game of 'telephone' steeped in +2000-year-old Indian cultural mores. So I kinda filed a lot of those rules in the "not applicable" folder. My art teacher used to call it the "round file."

Especially this one:

"A bhikkhuni (nun) who has been fully ordained even for more than a century must bow down, rise up from her seat, salute with hands palm-to-palm over her heart, and perform the duties of respect to a bhikkhu (monk) even if he has been fully ordained only a day. This rule is to be honored, respected, revered, venerated, never to be transgressed as long as she lives."

Dang!

During a recent retreat led by Ajahn Amaro, a Theravadin monk of the Thai Forest tradition, who has been strictly following the Vinaya for 30 years, one of the female priests from our Zen tradition asked him directly about these rules for women; basically whether, how, or when they might change. His answer was validating to some degree. He iterated the above rule, and said he was not comfortable with it, and that it is an extremely active topic within Theravadin Buddhism today. And then he shrugged and said he was "just one monk" and wished he had a better answer. Or something like that.

I was disappointed. Actually I felt like crying. I know it's complicated and all. I think the question was asked on about Day 2 of the 6-day retreat, so factor in that turbulence, but still. After the period was over and we had some free time for tea, I found myself going into the Jizo garden and sitting next to the statue of Kwan Yin in there, and I just let whatever it was come up.

I observed a feeling of grief for all the Dharma sisters to whom these rules are actually applied. I also noticed a sense of righteous anger. Careful there! I am a cheap date when it comes to righteous anger, and can get fall-down drunk on that stuff pretty quickly. Truthfully, I do not know all the complexities of Buddhist history, the various cultural expressions, and how the women of each tradition deal with their own brand of partriarchy, to which no culture is immune.

But Dang!

So some weeks later, along comes my Dharma sister, Senryu, who ran across this section of the Shobogenzo, in which Master Dogen, one of the Great Teachers of our Zen lineage, wrote about these rules as they were being applied to nuns in Japan being excluded from the main training halls of the monastery -- and he mocks these practices. He absolutely derides them:

And also, in Japan there is a situation which is truly ridiculous and worthy of laughter. It relates to what is called ‘The Grounds of the Enclosed Realm’ by some and ‘The Training Ground of the Greater Course’ by others, places that female monks and lay women are not permitted to enter. This mistaken custom has been handed down for ever so long, and people have never questioned what it is all about. Those who have studied the ancient ways have never attempted to change this practice nor have scholars ever taken up the matter. Some refer to this practice as ‘what an incarnation of a Buddha or a Bodhisattva does’; others speak of it as ‘the tradition of our ancient predecessors’. Moreover, they have never called the matter into question. It is enough to make a person split a gut laughing.

Master Dogen

This section is called Raihai Tokuzui, or "Respectful Bowing will Secure for You the Very Marrow of the Way." Did I mention it was written in the year 1240? Here is part of the translator's introduction:

The text is in two parts. The first, delivered to his monks in the spring of 1240, deals with being willing to learn from any who give voice to the Dharma, be they male or female, human or animal, living or dead, animate or inanimate. The second, given in the fall of the same year, specifically addresses various questions on learning from women. For unexplained reasons, the second part was not Incorporated in the earlier versions of the Shōbōgenzō, but was kept under lock and key in Dōgen’s temple, Eihei-ji.

Lock and key? Unexplained reasons? Srsly?

Things at Eihei-ji have changed just a little little in 800 years, despite Dogen's clarity. Get your hands on this book immediately: Women of the Way, by Sallie Tisdale. In the introduction, she recounts her experience of how women are still treated differently there.

In Women of the Way, Sallie Tisdale paints beautiful detailed portraits of Buddhist women, their own practice and mastery within the context of history and culture as best can be deduced. She has put together a women's lineage from the time of the Buddha that is chanted at the monastery on a regular basis. When I hear it and chant it, it washes over me like refreshing cool water being poured by Kwan Yin herself.

Anyway, about respectful bowing: Dogen takes specific aim at that one rule about accomplished nuns having to defer to monks ordained on their first day.

When a female monk who has realized both the Way and the Dharma becomes head of a temple, male monks who, in seeking the Dharma, wish to train under a Master will join her community, respectfully bowing as they ask her about the Dharma, for she is a splendid model for their training and study. It will be for the trainee like receiving something to drink when he is thirsty...

Someone who has not yet even dreamt of the Truth of Buddhism, even if he be an old monk of a hundred years, will not be the equal of a man or woman who has realized what Dharma is; he should not be reverenced, but simply paid common respect, as between guest and host. Even a seven-year-old—were he or she to train in and practice Buddhism, and then say something that is Buddha Dharma—can be a teacher and guide for monks and laity, male and female. This child will be a compassionate parent to all sentient beings... We should make offerings and pay respect to such a one the same as we would to all Buddhas and Tathagatas. This is an ancient custom of the Buddha’s Way. Those who may still be in ignorance and who lack the direct Transmission are to be pitied...

Once such a woman has realized what Dharma is, then she is truly an Old Buddha, so we should not look upon her as we did in the past. When we are having an audience with her, our contact will be from a new and special standpoint. When we meet her, we should face her with an attitude of ‘today is today’, regardless of how things were in the past. For example, a female monk to whom the Treasure House of the Eye of the True Teaching has been Transmitted should respectfully be bowed to and asked for the Teaching by those in the four stages of arhathood, those who are pratyekabuddhas, and those thrice wise and ten times saintly, and she will acknowledge this bow. Why should only males be worthy of respect? Boundless space is simply boundless space; the four elements are simply the four elements; the five skandhas are simply the five skandhas. And they are no different for women. When it comes to realizing the Way, everyone may realize It. In any case, anyone who has realized what Dharma is should be deeply respected: do not concern yourself with whether it is a man or a woman. This is a most excellent rule of the Buddha’s Way.

Dogen recounts stories of great female Masters Massan and Myoshin. Both of these women's stories are included in Women of the Way. He refers to Myoshin when he says this:

...Truly, her level of spiritual understanding is not surpassed even by those thrice wise and ten times saintly; her speech and actions are in direct descent from the Buddhas and Ancestors. For this reason, even today, when there is a vacant post for an Abbot or one who teaches in the Abbot’s stead, we should invite a female monk who has realized what Dharma is to take the position. Even though a male monk be one of greater age and longer residence, if he has not realized what Dharma is, why would you want him instead? The one who is the head monk for a community must undoubtedly be someone spiritually clear-eyed. A person who is as dissipated in body and mind as he is limited in outlook, however, will be so hard-headed that he will often be the laughing stock of ordinary people...

His tone is so clear, and his language so unmistakable. I can hardly believe this was so clearly articulated back in 1240. Speaking of contemporary value, there is even a section in this where he talks about not objectifying women:

And also, even today there are people, wretched from their folly, whose unconverted thinking has not gone beyond looking upon women simply as objects in the world of sensual desire. Disciples of Buddha should not be this way. Should you detest women because you think that they must be objects in the world of sensual desire, would you also detest all men? What causes staining and defilement to arise is treating men as comprising one world and women as another. In addition, looking upon someone as being neither male nor female is also to treat that person as ‘an object apart’; even looking at that person as though a phantasm or an illusory flower is likewise treating him or her as ‘an object apart’...

It says in the Vinaya: “The two orifices of a male and the three orifices of a female are alike when it comes to committing a grievous breakage of the Precepts; those doing so may not dwell within the monastic community.” Thus, if you dislike women because you think that they must be objects in the world of sensual desire, then males and females will end up mutually disliking each other, and it is unlikely that there will be any opportunity for either to find a way to the Other Shore. You should explore this principle in detail.

He even goes after the karma argument. You know, the one that says women are born women because of our bad karma?

And also, should you despise women because you think that in ancient times they have committed some offense, then you must despise all bodhisattvas as well. Or, should you despise women because you think that at some later date they will surely commit some offense, then you must despise all bodhisattvas who have given rise to the intention to realize Buddhahood. If you despise women in any such ways, you must despise every single person, so how will you make manifest the Buddha’s Dharma? Words like the ones uttered by such monks are, sad to say, the wild remarks of foolish people who do not understand what the Buddha taught. If the matter were like this vow, did the Venerable Shakyamuni and the bodhisattvas who were alive during His lifetime all commit offenses? Have Their enlightened minds been shallower than yours? You would do well to quietly think about this.

I just can't get over this! We chant Dogen's name at every service, and I had no idea he had my back like this!

In starting down this Path, I had some trepidation about getting into what I perceived as a patriarchal religion, and even though our Sangha is led by a woman, those of us who practice downtown interact primarily with her husband as our primary teacher. Initially, I was apprehensive around acquiring a male teacher.

Hogen

The teachers of our Sangha, like many of the first-generation American Buddhist practitioners have lived through the period in the 1980's in which it was discovered that lots of ethical breaches were being carried out by the teachers who first brought Buddhism to America. Our teachers are therefore committed to rooting practice in ethics. And they encourage us to just observe the community, just come practice, just come sit for a while before making any commitments to joining. I appreciated this so much. A gradual relationship has therefore been allowed to develop very organically between my teachers and me. They just keep being exactly who they say they are in many different situations.

And so I add Hogen, who has never been anything but compassionate to me, to my list of gentle, kind men I have had the pleasure of being close to in this life.

Bansho

Which leads me to what I think is Dogen's actual conclusion; that it does not matter what form your teacher takes. If your teacher understands the Dharma, you should show respect. You can learn from them.

...we should pray that the trees and stones give voice to the Dharma for us: we should hold in our hearts the wish that the fields and the villages also give voice to It. We should ask It of the pillar of a temple: we should have the walls and fences explore It thoroughly with us.

Whether that guiding Master has the physical features of a male or a female, or whatever, is irrelevant, but it must be someone who is spiritually outstanding, one who is truly ‘with It’* here and now. Whether he or she is someone of the past or a present-day person is of no matter; even one who has the nagging manner of a wild fox may prove a good spiritual friend, for this is the countenance of one who has secured the very Marrow, one who will be a spiritual guide and of benefit to you. This is someone who does not deceive others about cause and effect, and who will treat you, me, and others as spiritual equals.

Once you have encountered a teacher and guide, from then on you should discard your myriad involvements, cease frittering away your time, and devote yourself to diligently practicing the Way. You should do your training and practice, even though you may still be attached to discriminatory thinking; you should do your training and practice, even if you have gone beyond discriminatory thinking; you should do your training and practice, even though you may be half-hearted in the attempt. Study with urgency, as though you were extinguishing a fire on your head: study with joy and hopefulness, as though you were standing on tiptoes. Should you behave in this way, you will not be disturbed by bad-mouthing demons.

* translator's note: To be “‘with It’ here and now” is an attempt to render the term immo when used in its Chinese slang meaning for the condition of persons or things being just what they truly are, without any sense of an existence separate from time and without any sense of a false self.

Coming Home Part I

It's August, 1993:

This is actually maybe 1991. Body image issues? Yep, totally sick with it.

I'm 21 years old. I just graduated in May with my Bachelor's in Social Work, and spent the past year interning at a domestic violence shelter. After graduation I got a summer job at the shelter doing whatever they needed: Overnight shifts listening to harrowing stories of how the residents got there or nearly didn't, pregnancy testing, accompanying victims to court, picking up donated leftover food from the hospital where the woman in charge of the kitchen flirts with me, working in the children's program with some of the most traumatized kids the coordinator had ever seen, organizing rallies for choice, and getting ready to start my new job at the Rape Crisis Center as a counselor...

It has been two years since the movie Thelma and Louise revealed some major fault lines polarizing American culture around the question of sexism and feminism, violence and women's anger. I was right in the middle of this discussion because I have been actively exploring this thing called feminism for a couple years now. In fact, my supervisor and mentor at the shelter wears a T-shirt with a logo for the Thelma and Louise Finishing School for Women.

I was surprised and relieved and gratified to discover that Feminism is completely relevant to my life. Feminism turned out to be so much more than just a word my mom rolled her eyes about. I discovered that Feminism is about more than just women; it's about everybody.

My parents have reluctantly accepted that I will probably never return to my political conservative Republican roots, and they blame the liberal Ivory Tower for this. It has been two years since I started taking Women's Studies and African American Studies, and allowing them to sink deeply into my bones. My parents may be onto something. I read Backlash right after it came into paperback, underlining whole paragraphs and writing notes in the margins with lots of exclamation points!!!

Less than a year ago, I jettisoned a crappy, porn-addicted boyfriend. The rage that fueled that long-overdue breakup is also fueled by P.J Harvey's song, "Dress" (seriously do click that link) pounding from my Honda Civic's cassette tape deck and my fists pounding the steering wheel. I learned about so many reasons to be so very angry; for myself and my newly-discovered world of sisters. I have a cute new SNAG* boyfriend at a University an hour and a half away. His name is Patrick, and I met him through a mutual friend when we all decided to read Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex. He is one of the three men on his campus in their men's anti-sexism group.

I read the Feminine Face of God, and The Spiral Dance, and emphatically turned away from my Christian roots. I sculpted a Venus of Willendorf out of clay and fired her into stone. I declared myself and all women Goddess and Sheela-na-Gig my own. I have started paying attention to the seasons, the equinoxes and the solstices and celebrating them. I have started paying attention to the moon and how her cycles mirror my own. I am learing about the snake as a symbol of women's spirituality, how women and snakes have both been demonized in patriarchal religious culture. I look to the snake and her continual shedding skin for reassurance that there is nothing but change, and that this can be embraced. And yes, I stopped shaving.

Venus

A few months ago, my roommate Melissa's girlfriend Margaret, who was visiting from Chicago, asked me why I hadn't been to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival yet. She described this amazing place of shirtless Amazons, sacred oak groves -- a land in the woods built by women -- womyn only, and attended by womyn only. She described a place of bodily safety.

My very first article of Festie-wear!

I knew immediately that I would stop at nothing to be there. The Festival is for all womyn-born-womyn, and is an opportunity to experience a place where Lesbians are not the minority. Margaret gave me a pin, designating me officially an "Honorary Lesbian" and we arranged to go. Melissa and I lived near enough for a day's drive to Chicago, stay with her girlfriend one night, and drive the rest of the way up.

I watched Margaret as we got closer to "the Land" as she kept calling it. She looked like a placid and contented statue of the Buddha, if the Buddha had been a forty-year-old Lesbian with spiky gray hair. Driving along the dirt roads approaching the Land, we were surrounded by pine and oak trees above, with dense green ferns below, and miles of cars full of joyful womyn in front of us and behind us. I had never seen so many feminist bumperstickers.

We emerged from the shady road into the bright sun, and onto a huge mowed field through the gate where inordinately happy Lesbians of all ages, shapes, and sizes said to us with all sincerity, "Welcome Home." We were greeted with the discovery that Melissa and I were "Festie Virgins", and this was usually accompanied by lascivious squeals, and even a ringing bell somewhere at the orientation tent. I made sure not to let anybody know it was my first Festival after that.

Though I think it took about five minutes for me to take my shirt off.

I entered the Festival like a shirtless duck to water. Ironically, Melissa was terribly uncomfortable. She kept her shirt on pretty much the whole week, and seemed kind of creeped out from time to time by the various sights and experiences that only the Michigan Festival can provide. The Honorary Lesbian, however, finds herself totally in love with the whole shebang:

Quiet forest paths with soft woodchips for my Birkenstocks to walk upon, fearlessly roaming bands of girl-children with their faces painted and their craft projects streaming behind them, a woman walking completely buck naked except for the beanie hat with a propeller on top, impromptu drum circles around warm firepits, an actual bearded woman in a Goodwill prom dress driving the tractor shuttle, a continuous stream of amazing professional music performances on three stages all day and all evening, Laura Love on Day Stage!, a huge craft area (essentially a feminist mall), live comedy, movies under the stars, amazing outdoor showers where I could see actual womyn's bodies in all their incredible uniqueness, and see my own within this context, beautiful vegetarian food, workshops on everything from astrology, to fomenting feminist revolution, to vermicomposting, and yes indeed, bodily safety.

I had to keep reminding myself about this bodily safety thing: I could actually walk anywhere anytime, and not worry about anyone attacking me or hurting me. I could walk buck naked with a propeller beanie on my head at 3am or 3pm, and the most likely thing to happen to me would be someone saying, "Nice hat." In fact, every single person I passed on the paths smiled and said hi. If I got lost (which I did a few times), all I had to do was ask anyone, and they'd stop whatever they were doing to be of assistance.

Not only was my body safe, but my stuff was safe too: I had gotten a beautiful ceramic mug at the crafts area (gorgeous large mug with raku designs and a snake for the handle), and set it aside with my jacket somewhere, got distracted and forgot about it. I remembered it several hours later, and was sad that it would probably be stolen. Nope. Still there, safe as a kitten.

Before departure, I rented a green pup tent from the university rec center's "Base Camp" and a sleeping bag with a few little holes I suspect might have been from stray burning pot seeds. I nearly froze the first night, because I had no idea I needed a ground cover under my tent, and I didn't even have a sleeping mat. The women I camped with gave me a plastic tarp to put under my tent, and I slept in total comfort right on rugged Mother Gaia the rest of the week. The womyn I camped with shared all their food and their systems for navigating the Festival --like getting their blankets and tarps in a great spot for sitting at night stage, or making sure I had a good volunteer workshift to do. I walked around in stunned awe a lot of the time.

The Meditation Circle was the most amazing place. There was the sacred oak grove, with a veritable carpet of soft moss in the middle. At one end was an overturned tree stump, her roots exposed and weathered, creating an elaborate altar space and focus for the grove. Womyn had come along making beautiful offerings of shells, beads, poems, candles, flowers... you name it. It was absolutely by and for the Goddess, and it was beautiful.

Meditation Circle, Michfest 1993

Indeed, I had come home. I had come home to the Land, to my sisters, to myself.

It's May, 2009.

I'm 37 years old. I have made that pilgrimage every single August for sixteen consecutive years. I have traveled by car, train, airplane, and even hitching a ride home from Fest (that was an adventure). I did five or six years as a Worker -- mainly because I wanted to stay longer than a week, and being on the short crew to help staff the thing allowed me to extend my experience into two weeks each year. What have sixteen years of the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival given me? It is impossible to calculate and maybe impossible to communicate, but I will write about this in my next installment.

*Sensitive New Age Guy

Women of the 14th Moon

I just returned from this amazing ceremony. I feel so fortunate to be connected to the women who invited me -- two women friends of mine who didn't actually know each other, but who have been attending this yearly ceremony for quite a few years.

It's a weekend in a wooded place - the location rotates, the ceremony planners and leaders rotate, but a few things are constant: The purpose is to take time and energy to celebrate and honor the elder women in our community, and to celebrate and honor women in each of three phases of life: Maiden, Matron, and Elder.

Since it was a women's ceremony, I had just assumed it would be Wiccan -- with ostensibly pre-Christian European origins. Wicca recognizes these three phases, using the terms "Maiden, Mother and Crone." I had some affinity for that path for some time, so I thought I knew what to expect.

But this ceremony was rooted in the Native American traditions. I have never been to anything like that before, and had some questions in my mind throughout the weekend about cultural appropriation. I seem to recall some controversy about that in the late 80's and early 90's, as many of these kinds of ceremonies and practices were becoming popular among New Age Caucasians looking for non-Christian spiritual connection. More on that in a moment.

So there was smudging -- cleansing with the smoke of burning sage. There was a circle with gateways representing the four directions. There was a huge drum with 6 or 7 drummers leading in song and rhythm, including some songs in Lakota and other Native American languages. There were references to animal totems. There were in fact, visitations by some animals! All the Elder women were given large wooden staffs. Some have had theirs for many years, and attached various feathers, bells, and other symbols or items of significance. There were beautiful and moving dances by three women who worked on creating a mask throughout the previous year to represent themselves as the archetypal Maiden, Matron, and Elder, and they danced to express the energies of each life phase.

Unfortunately, I don't have many photos of this actual event. Photography is not allowed during the ceremony, and the ceremony encompassed the vast majority of the weekend -- from morning to evening. There were few opportunities for this newbie to take some time to get some shots of the land. I was mostly too busy figuring out what was going on. So I've trolled my own pictures of other events and environments, as well as Flickr, and I'm sharing some photos that just seem to communicate the mood (and provide permission to share them). You can click on the photos that are not mine to find their original location on Flickr.

I am going to do my best to communicate about this experience, but I may have a few things not quite right, and I also want to be careful not to reveal too much of what was a sacred event. So what are these three phases of a woman's life?

MAIDEN: A woman who has had her first menstrual cycle, and who is 25 years old or under. Maidens all wore springtime pastel colors to ceremony. East is the direction associated with the Maidens -- the dawn of all beginnings, a breath of fresh air, springtime and new growth.

"2008-08-24 037" by rbatina

MATRON: A woman who is 26-50 years old or who is a mother. The Matrons all wore the colors of fire: Reds, oranges, yellows. South is the direction associated with the Matrons -- the fire of action, and the energy needed to get everything done.

"Dancing Queens", by zenamoonbeam

A WOMAN OF THE 14TH MOON: A woman who is at least 51 years old AND who has not had a menstrual cycle in one year and one month (14 moons). The Elders wore the colors of the sea: Blues, greens, purples, black. West is the direction associated with the Elders. The wisdom of water, the emotion and reflection.

"Ricky" by kk+

North was the direction associated with Earth, and the Ancestors. It was represented by a white gateway, decorated with bones and copies of photographs of female ancestors we all brought.

I recall a fairly recent conversation with Genko from Dharma Rain Zen Center. She is a Zen monk in training, and she revealed that she is in her late 50's. She reported from that experience, rather bemused, that she finds herself invisible a lot of the time; no longer having to put up with the constant attentions and judgments around her appearance. I imagine this can feel like a delightful secret at times.

But I also imagine that it can feel invalidating and tiresome.

What I observed this weekend was the importance of really actually seeing these women. The importance of hearing their voices, and listening to their words. Appreciating their beauty, power, and wisdom. This ceremony fills a gap in our society. A large one. We don't generally do this, and the need is achingly clear.

But then there is this question of cultural appropriation. In searching for images on the web that might communicate some aspects of the ceremony, it didn't take me long to find something like this:

It appears there are some folks out there who purport to have affiliation with tribes when they in fact do not, and who charge a hefty sum for participation in rituals or weekend workshops, and seek to profit financially from these activities. They are referred to in some websites as "Twinkies" or "Plastic Shaman".

I will say that the cost of the weekend I attended was nominal, and I believe covered just the rental space, porta-potties, breakfast foods, small gifts for each participant, etc. and did not appear to be enriching anyone in any way other than spiritually.

Additionally, I met a woman there who very recently participated in the Longest Walk 2. As I understood her description, it was a re-creation of The Longest Walk, from California to Washington DC to draw attention to legislation about freedom for Native Americans to practice their religion, which occurred in 1978. The woman at the ceremony was in her late 50's, and was one of only six people who actually walked the entire way, the other five being about half her age. She appears to be Caucasian, but I do not know her heritage. So here she is, participating in this ritual, also who took five months out of her life to stand -- and walk -- for Native American rights. Somehow to me that counts for something.

And then I recalled the Womyn of Color poetry slam at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival last year, at which a woman of Japanese descent was talking about cultural appropriation, i.e. white people wearing chopsticks in their hair, and going to meditation retreats and such. It disturbed me a bit. She made it clear that appropriation was different than appreciation, though she wasn't clear what appreciation might look like. One of my friends said that poetry slams are generally a place for anger to be expressed rather than nuance, and not to worry about it. But I gave it thought. I wondered if you could say that Japanese Zen was appropriated from China, which was appropriated from Indian Buddhism. Though really, Buddhism was purposely delivered from India to China, and just as purposely from Japan to the United States. I don't know. Maybe it's not so clear cut.

Taizan Maizumi Roshi, founder of the Zen Center of Los Angeles

Nevertheless, the ceremony was beautiful, and even though I consider myself one who sees our elder women, I realized I needed to see even more clearly, more lovingly, more appreciatively.

And it was nice to be appreciated. The Matrons this year were gifted these medicine bags:

We each were assigned to write a brief love poem about another woman we may have just met. They were then read aloud, and were the first "medicine" we got to put in our bag. So very sweet. I sewed on some of the beads from my little name tag, and also some of the gifts given by the archetypal dancers -- a feather, a sachet... It was such a sweet weekend. So important to take time to appreciate ourselves and each other.

Cooties

I forgot for a second about cooties.

In an otherwise very pleasant cultural exchange this morning with a Buddhist priest originally from Malaysia, we were listening to him talk about the ins and outs of building a Stupa. He knew a lot about the energies of the relics, how to differentiate real relics from fake relics, and the faith and determination building such a thing requires. But he had to make sure to mention the importance of "authorized personnel" only in the consecration process, specifically not to allow any menstruating women in on the gig.

I was literally biting my tongue. I wondered what the other women in the room were thinking.

*sigh*

Now, it's not like menstrual taboo impacted my childhood Christian experience directly. Eve and serpents aside, there were no menstrual huts or special bathing rituals. No, it's pretty much filtered down to the medical / commercial realm to indoctrinate me with the idea I am in need of many products to prevent or correct this icky dirty state. I've been trying to unlearn this crap for years.

Like my friend Inga Muscio, says,

That's like hawking floral air freshener to a lady who lives in a rose garden.

Well, there was also the indoctrination of grade school health class.

Girls are told bleeding is a bad thing, an embarrassing thing, a secret thing that we should hide and remain discreet about come hell or high water.

Boys are told to go outside and play sports while the girls learn about some creepy, cootie-laden mystery that makes blood ooze out from our you-know-whats...

...Were we told anything about how our uteruses are almost exactly like the moon, shedding their linings, growing new ones and shedding all over again? Did the Period Movie teach us thing one about how miraculously cool and sublime the human body's reproductive system is when you're a girl?

F--- no.

All I truly gleaned from this experience was that my c--- was the yucksville reason I had to sit in the stupid cafeteria watching some hack nurse show me how to safety pin a three-mile-wide wad of cotton to a pair of brief underpanties even my grandma wouldn't be caught dead in, while the other half of the sixth grade population was out in the sunshine playing softball.

Well, something tells me that for a Stupa under the auspices of Jizo Bodhisattva (Ksitigarbha), menstruation will not be a hindrance.




The Chinese translation of Ksitigarbha is Dizang, which means Earth Womb fer cryin' out loud! And Jizo's realm is that of women, travelers, children, and children who have died. Jizo is known as the Earth Store Bodhisattva -- guardian of all that comes from the earth.

And to my understanding, that includes blood and guts and the miraculously cool and sublime reproductive systems of women's bodies.