About Me

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Miami, Florida, United States
Every time I eat whole fish I fear for days that I have swallowed a bone. Perhaps my abdomen is absolutely lousy with them, I would have no idea. Thanks for coming and remember to take off your shoes before coming into the living room, I'm quite fond of the carpet.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Adventures in Atheism: In which the author pisses off 350 million people and hopes they are as peaceable as their religion dictates


Buddhist Bigotry: A look at the patriarchal beliefs of America’s “liberal” faith
            “…of course, some women can be difficult! I sympathize with feminists, but they must not merely shout. They must exert efforts to make positive contributions to society” – His Holiness, the Dalai Lama.
            If that quote sounds to you more like an excerpt from an Ann Coulter book than the prepared speech from the leader of one of the world’s largest religions, you’re not alone. When Buddhism first gained ground in the U.S. some of its first converts were liberals, hippies, feminists and gay men and women who were disillusioned by the conservative beliefs of evangelical Christianity [Boucher]. To this day, Buddhism still counts among its number many influential liberal celebrities and enjoys the reputation of being a religion of peace and equality. However, the core teachings of the church are as patriarchal and oppressive as the society in which it originated, and to this day the practice of the faith is extremely gendered. Buddhism may have started as a progressive alternative to Brahmin Hinduism, but even with the influx of thought from Western religious thinkers, it remains staunchly patriarchal.
            The Bahudhātuka-sutta, one of Buddhism’s central texts, states outright and repeatedly that a woman cannot achieve Buddhahood, the goal of all practicing Buddhists. A woman’s body, the text claims, is poorly suited to achieving enlightenment and women have to wait until the cycle of reincarnation brings them back as a male human [Murcott]. Women should still dedicate themselves to the faith, the text goes on, as it increases their chances of a male reincarnation [BDEA]. Basically, the best fate a woman can achieve in Buddhism is to be reborn with a penis, a sentiment so blatantly sexist the G.O.P. will be running it as a Senate candidate in 2016.
            Women who seek to become ordained in the Buddhist faith face an uphill struggle. First, they will have to have the good fortune to not be an adherent to the Theravadan school of Buddhism, as that sect has not had a process for women to become nuns for several hundred years [Slone]. Given the treatment of Buddhist nuns, this may be a mercy. Nuns must obey many more rules than are imposed on monks, and must bow to every monk they encounter. Jutsun Kushala, who is widely respected as a spiritual leader and educator in the West, must work a full-time job to fund her practice while her male counterparts are provided for by the faith [Gross].
            The faith also imposes no shortage of restrictions on laywomen. Though one of the faith’s central teachings is the rejection of binaries and absolutes in favor of the “middle way”, abortion [Harvey], homosexuality [Lau] and sex work [Peek] are all seen as absolute moral wrongs. If mental gymnastics was an Olympic sport, Buddhism would be disqualified for doping.
            An encouraging trend in Western activism and feminism is an increased solidarity with minority groups fighting for civil rights and equality. A practitioner of Buddhism will have to look somewhere other than their faith for guidance in this struggle, as the faith argues that individuals who possess dark skin do so because they showed they were unworthy of fair skin in their past incarnations [Gethin]. While typing that sentence, I became very concerned for the residents of Montgomery, Alabama as I was nearly certain their city would be destroyed by all the rolling in Dr. King’s grave.
            Those who look to Buddhism as an escape from the severe gender roles enforced by Christian faiths will also find themselves disappointed. As Rita Gross points out, Buddhism views “compassion” as a “masculine” trait and “wisdom” as an inherently “feminine” one. I, for one, could not create something so arbitrary without punching my keyboard, so I suppose I must commend Buddhism on its creativity.
            Despite the assertions by celebrities and hippies alike, Buddhism is not some egalitarian alternative to the Abrahamic faiths. It is a religion founded in patriarchy that proudly perpetuates that patriarchy. While radically egalitarian in its original setting, in modern day Western societies, it has a more reactionary outlook than even most conservative political dogmas. The only thing it has to offer those serious about gender equality is a splitting headache.

Works Cited
Boucher, Sandy. Turning the Wheel: American Women Creating the New Buddhism. Boston, MA: Beacon, 1993. Print.
Murcott, Susan. The First Buddhist Women:Translations and Commentary on the Therigatha. Berkeley: Parallax, 1991. Print.
"Buddhist Studies: 3. Q & A on Women in Buddhism." Buddhist Studies: 3. Q & A on Women in Buddhism. BDEA, Inc., 2008. Web. 28 Nov. 2012. http://www.buddhanet.net/e-learning/history/wbq03.htm
Jason Slone, D., and Joel Mort. "Sexism vs. Superhuman Agency in the Theravada Buddhist Ritual System." Method & Theory in the Study of Religion 17.2 (2005): 134-48. Print.
Gross, Rita M. Buddhism after Patriarchy: A Feminist History, Analysis, and Reconstruction of Buddhism. Albany: State University of New York, 1993. Print.
Harvey, Peter. An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics: Foundations, Values, and Issues. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge UP, 2000. 311-20. Print.
Lau, M. P., and M. L. Ng. "Homosexuality in Chinese Culture." Culture, Medicine and Psychiatry 13.4 (1989): 465-88. Print.
Peek, John M. "Buddhism, Human Rights and the Japanese State." Human Rights Quarterly17.3 (1995): 527-40. Print.
Gethin, Rupert. The Foundations of Buddhism. Oxford [England: Oxford UP, 1998. Print. P.121 and others.
Gross, Rita. "What Went Wrong? Feminism and Freedom from the Prison of Gender Roles.: An Article From: Cross Currents [HTML] [Digital]." Amazon.com: What Went Wrong? Feminism and Freedom from the Prison of Gender Roles.: An Article From: Cross Currents: Rita M. Gross: Books. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Nov. 2012. <http://www.amazon.com/Feminism-freedom-prison-gender-roles/dp/B0008DMKF2>.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

I've been listening to too much "This American Life".

My first car was a red 2001 Kia Sorento. The day I got it was one of the best in my life. I took her on the road immediately. She had some miles on her, she had bad gas mileage and she had the dings and dents you'd expect. I saw none of that. To me, this car was perfect, a shining beacon of hope on four wheels.

When I took her on the highway for the first time, my heart felt like it could burst. As we hit 90 together, she was shaking almost as much as my hands but I wasn't scared. We could do this. We could do anything. For the next few years, we were inseparable. Me and my Kia were like Joanie and Chachi, Burt and Ernie, the Citizen and his cane. As my friends could attest, I would barely make it any further than the mailbox without her.

She never had any trouble on the long, hard drives I took her on, so I kept right on thinking she was invincible. The fender benders we got in barely left a scratch on her. She was tough, and I was too young and too damn dumb to even know what fear was.

Time took its toll, but in my eyes, it was the kind of toll you pay on some back-country road with no name. If I had really looked, I would've seen what my friends were already kind enough to inform me of every time they braved a journey in the old girl: it was more like taking the Jersey Turnpike and losing your ticket. The scratch along the right side from a particularly sneaky fence, the stud marks on the roof and hood from people who cared more about looking cool than about my precious ride, the dent on the bumper from when a tire gave out south of Yonkers and left us stranded in North Jersey. From time to time, the check engine light started coming on, and before I had time to worry, off it would go again.

The first time it started acting up, I just threw some more fluid in the radiator, changed the oil, replaced a couple belts. When the mechanic warned me of the cliff up ahead, I just threw on my blindfold and slammed the accelerator harder.

The damage started adding up. She was no longer the hyper-responsive blaze of glory I had made my first road trip in all those years ago. I laid off the gas some, I no longer attempted the ambitious 40 mile an hour U-turns I had become somewhat infamous for. Too little, too late.

One day I was taking her home from work and everything went wrong at once. The heat started rising, the steering gave out and the suspension took the day off. I pulled over for a while, thinking a little time to cool down would somehow fix the unfixable and that she would get me home safe, as she always had before. We made it a few more miles before she gave out entirely. I stayed in the car for about an hour, half to shield me from the rain, half out of some foolish belief that against all odds she would run again for me. I eventually found myself standing outside smoking a cigarette and waiting for a tow. I wondered how I got there, in the middle of nowhere standing next to a motionless hunk of Korean steel. It would've been obvious to anyone else, but not me. I was too attached.

I drive a Corolla now, and I get the oil changed every 20,000 miles like a real grown-up. Everytime I see a red Sorento, I wonder if its mine. I wonder if its the same car that took me from one end of the coast to the other in a misguided attempt at romance, the same car that had seen the consumption of nearly as much box wine as gasoline, the same beautiful fucking vehicle that got me safely around the wrong side of 20th street all those nights where we tried to turn baking soda into magic and winding up with regrets and sore throats instead. I saw a family in one the other day and I was happy to think it might have been mine, it just felt right. She was never meant for high-speed dashes across the state line, this was what she was best at.

I miss that car, but fuck if this Corolla isn't a better fit. Maybe it's the car, more likely it's me but I don't think I'm going to find myself waiting for a tow any time soon.