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