Religion is Deeper Than Culture: On Being An African-American
Buddhist
The following commentary ran in the Religion Section of the
Cleveland-based Plain Dealer, Ohio's largest Newspaper,
Saturday, August 19, 2000.
"Your father didn't teach you right, THAT'S your problem," I am
told. It's late January, 1999. I sit in a small, maternity ward
meeting room at Hillcrest hospital in Mayfield Heights, a suburb
of Cleveland. I nurse my baby girl, while sharing childbirth
stories with two other post partum moms. The three of us are
African American. Our talk turns to religion. I say I'm
Buddhist. Next thing I know, my Baptist-preacher father is being
called a bad parent. He isn't even around to defend himself.
Almost 13 years ago I emerged from a life of hellish suffering.
I had been in and out of battles with eating disorders, suicidal
depression and substance abuse, and I had dropped out of
college. I found unshakable happiness within myself by embracing
Nichiren Buddhism as a member of the Soka Gakkai International
(SGI-USA). If I had talked to that mother on the maternity ward
a bit longer, maybe she would have blasted me for choosing a
religion that's not "Black enough," like others have. When I'm
labeled a cultural sell-out for not being Christian, I reply
that, like many Blacks, I believe that Jesus probably had
African ancestry, but most folks also believe he lived in the
Middle East, and that area's not known for having much
American-style "it's-a-Black-thing" flavor.
More importantly, I think that religion should be about
something deeper than cultural identity. Religion should
squarely address the three fundamental questions we each need to
ask