Radical Dharma: Talking Race, Love, and Liberation

by Angel Kyodo Williams, Lama Rod Owens, Jasmine Syedullah

Igniting a long-overdue dialogue about how the legacy of racial injustice and white supremacy plays out in society at large and Buddhist communities in particular, this urgent call to action outlines a new dharma that takes into account the ways that racism and privilege prevent our collective awakening.

The authors traveled around the country to spark an open conversation that brings together the Black prophetic tradition and the wisdom of the Dharma. Bridging the world of spirit and activism, they urge a compassionate response to the systemic, state-sanctioned violence and oppression that has persisted against Black people since the slave era. With national attention focused on the recent killings of unarmed black citizens and the response of the Black-centered liberation groups such as Black Lives Matter, "Radical Dharma" demonstrates how social transformation and personal, spiritual liberation must be articulated and inextricably linked.

Rev. angel Kyodo williams, Lama Rod Owens, and Jasmine Syedullah represent a new voice in American Buddhism. Offering their own histories and experiences as illustrations of the types of challenges facing dharma practitioners and teachers who are different from those of the past five decades, they ask how teachings that transcend color, class, and caste are hindered by discrimination and the dynamics of power, shame, and ignorance.

Their illuminating argument goes beyond a demand for the equality and inclusion of diverse populations to advancing a new dharma that deconstructs rather than amplifies systems of suffering and prepares us to weigh the shortcomings not only of our own minds but also of our communities. They forge a path toward reconciliation and self-liberation that rests on radical honesty, a common ground where we can drop our need for perfection and propriety and speak as souls.

In a society where profit rules, people's value is determined by the color of their skin, and many voices including queer voices are silenced, Radical Dharma recasts the concepts of engaged spirituality, social transformation, inclusiveness, and healing.

Genres: Buddhism, Nonfiction, Spirituality, Social Justice, Race, Religion, Anti Racist

248 pages, Kindle Edition

First published June 14, 2016

About the author

Reverend Angel Kyodo Williams is an ordained Zen priest, called "the most vocal and most intriguing African-American Buddhist in America" by Library Journal, Williams is the Spiritual Director of the meditation-based newDharma Community and founder of the Center for Transformative Change in Berkeley, California and is also credited with developing fearlessMeditation, fearlessYoga and Warrior Spirit Training. As of October 2013, she is the world's 2nd female Zen teacher of African descent. Her given Buddhist name, Kyodo, means "Way of Teaching."

Reviews

[Jillian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Writers of color challenge #8

Hey White People! pay attention.

The three Black Queer Buddhist authors of this book present the idea that the steps toward eliminating racism in our culture involve a deeper understanding of ourselves. When we understand our own suffering, we can connect with that of others.

I'm not Buddhist, I'm no scholar, I went to a few Dharma classes in Seattle about 10 years ago and I read on and off and I meditate on and off (but mainly off). This book was still approachable to me (and there's a glossary in the back) and I could relate to it.

There's a big message for white people here that I resonate with. (I am white btw.) White people gotta get in on anti-racism activism, and the place to start is with our own selves. When we first learn about how we have benefited from white supremacy in our culture, when we start to empathize with the daily challenges people of color face, we feel guilty, we get upset. We're like "but it's not my fault, I can't help it!" Which is true. But what we can do as a result of this privilege is act.

The book suggests we work on our own selves, seek to understand our own sufferings. Where does the guilt come from? In what ways do we (perhaps unknowingly, perhaps not) perpetuate the system of white supremacy and oppression? How can we stop doing these things? Can we try to see how people without our privilege experience the system differently? When we search within ourselves (through meditation or whatever, this book doesn't actually discuss meditation much) and find these sources of suffering, come to terms with them, that's the beginning of our liberation from the suffering. And when we begin to understand our own suffering, we can begin understand that of others as well. Then compassion can begin. And eventually we can develop a compassionate community. Compassion toward ourselves, toward others who are different from us, who have had different experiences. Wouldn't that be a great thing to have?

Black Buddhist practitioners and especially teachers/scholars aren't super common, and I like the voice and perspective these folks bring to their teachings. They delve into their backgrounds, how they fell into Buddhism, etc, and they feel like their lived experiences as Black Americans is a valuable addition to their perspective that should be incorporated into their teachings. This is rather radical, apparently, but it makes sense, especially if you are trying to apply 5000 year old teachings to a modern society. Lama Rod is my favorite and I want to go to one of his classes some day. One of his messages that hit me the most was about love - it's for a deep love of humanity that he does what he does, which includes love for himself and others and everyone and everything.

I suspect that Black readers will find a lot of the experiences and feelings of the authors familiar as well. The authors express a lot of anger and frustration at our social/cultural/political systems and feel compelled to be activists to fight for justice and equity. They share personal experiences that are very relatable. A lot of what they said echoes my Black friends, voices on Twitter, etc.

So what to do now? As a white person, I need to be vocal in my personal and professional spaces about pointing out when people are using privilege to oppress others (knowingly or not, usually it is not but that is sort of worse), amplify voices of people of color, and help to inform white folks that just because we are recipients of privilege doesn't mean we should just hang out with it and be happy, we should use it to make positive change in the world. We need to shed light on oppressive systems and help dismantle them. We need to fight for justice for all.

[Valerie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow, wow, wow.

I took so many notes over the course of this read, found myself in deep internal conversation, and wanted to scream about it from the rooftops to everyone I know. In this book, co-authors Rev. angel Kyodo williams, Jasmine Syedullah Ph.D., and Lama Rod Owens offer touching, powerful words on the path to liberation. The words come from open, compassionate, honest dialogue among themselves and the people who came to engage with them in these public spheres so it reads very easily and fluidly.

Over the course of the book, they touch on privilege, racism, the power in an intentional sitting practice, love, healing, and so much more. My first read (because there will be *plenty* in the future) was with my library's copy of the book, but my Notes app is currently full to the brim with quotes, questions it brought up for my own path, and full page photographs of pieces that truly touched me. I absolutely encourage this read for anyone looking to grapple with the many challenges that come in this country from a thoughtful, loving, and frankly honest perspective.

[Rachel Lewis · Rating 4 out of 5]

On the one hand: profound and important. On the other hand: certain sections have so many neologisms/errors, mixed metaphors, and rapid changes of register that they're almost unreadable. Don't read this for the prose style but do read it.

[Jer Clarke · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a very valuable book to read, and I’m glad I got through it, but it wasn’t easy. There’s a lot of very deep wisdom embedded in the discussions and essays that make up this book, things I’ve been trying to think about but which are elusive when you’re on your own. The authors share a deep wisdom and experience of the issues of race and identity and their intersection with Buddhism that is impressive and intimidating.

It was disturbing in many ways to read the descriptions of racism and it’s corrupting role in our minds and society. I try to force myself as a white person to be exposed to these ideas with equanimity despite my automatic aversion. This is a very useful book if you are willing to face that challenge. I agreed already with much of the radical perspective on race found in the book, but some of it was just wild, so it gave me a chance to try to expand my horizons and give even more radical concepts a chance.

The hardest part of this read, though, was probably the format. At times it is extremely dense and intellectual, at other times dense and poetic, and stilll others extremely casual and consisting of questions asked without answers being given. Part of this effect is just that it’s transcriptions of in-person conversations, and part of it is that the three authors have very different styles used in their essay sections. Personally I found I had to just “power through” some sections and absorb what I could without clinging to understanding everything. Other sections I processed with care, trying to understand each paragraph and getting a lot out of the nuances.

So it’s a great book, an invaluable and unique offering from the authors who should definitely be celebrated. Thanks to them and to the publishers for making this available.

P.s. I’ve since noticed several excellent essays by Lama Rod Owens, one of the authors, on different websites. I highly recommend these essays, which have similar content to the book, but presented in a more straightforward and digestible format. These essays are great as a way to share this message with a wider audience (I.e. your sangha).

[Patrick Taylor · Rating 3 out of 5]

I thought this book gave some really valuable insights into how queer and female people of color experience buddhism. I really enjoyed the emphasis on being ok with discomfort and the messiness of tackling issues of racism.

Two things bothered me about this book. One was how jargony so much of it was. It was full of activist jargon, to the extent that it was hard to understand what they were actually talking about. That's my personal issue, and one you may not care about.

The other issue I had is more serious. There was almost no mention of Asian-American Buddhist practitioners, and the authors description of radical dharma seemed largely disconnected from the Buddhist traditions. It wasn't clear to me what "radical dharma" was meant to be, how it was different from the plain old dharma, and why they think that the present moment needs something different from a tradition that has existed for thousands of years. Which isn't to argue against reinterpreting the dharma for today or from an African-American and/or queer perspective, but this call for something new and different without really connecting to the existing traditions didn't sit well with me.

[Janet Nash · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was breathtaking and challenging. I struggle as someone who identifies as Buddhist because I also feel I need to be active and stand up for social justice issues. I've loved and respected Elie Wiesel and his books, especially "Night." In his life, post-Holocaust, he said that we have to take sides, and that it was those who turned a blind eye to the horrors of World War II that contributed to sustaining it for so long. In today's world, I feel that same need to stand up when politicians, in particular, but also anyone, spreads divisiveness. For me, the divisiveness that we are experiencing is the opposite of what our country stands for.

In American Buddhism, the population is mostly white, well-educated people who take a passive stance and focus more of their attention to their internal process. Consequently, they don't engage too much in the outside world and, therefore, don't stand up against injustice and hatred in an outward way. I know this is a sweeping generalization, and I also know there are some who do, but overall, not enough.

This book helped me to see that Buddhism in America is changing for the better with leaders like Rev. angel Kyodo williams, Lama Rod Owens, and Jasmine Syedullah, each who identify as Black, gay, and Buddhist. They talk about the challenges of being each of these things in America and in the Buddhist community.

As a white person, this was a very demanding read, but necessary if you want to begin to understand and embrace our shared humanity.

My new favorite book.

[Veena Gokhale · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have been a practising Buddhist for about 2 decades now and my belief in social justice is as strong as my "relief" in Buddhism!
This is a great book that marries the two, a much needed, timely, courageous collaboration between three, black, queer, American Buddhists and trailblazers.
I agree with some of the critiques that it has parts that are too academic, jargony and unclear. It could have been better put together and better edited. That said, I see it as the first effort by these authors, and it's essential reading, I think, if you are interested in the topic. It's good to watch some youtube videos by the authors as well.
I was challenged and inspired, as I am by the dharma as well!

[Scott F · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was excited to read this book, but ultimately I found it disappointing unfortunately. As a person of colour that practices Zen I was intrigued by it, I think I had been expecting this to be a book about engaged buddhist practice, on how the Bodhisattva path could be used to view the issues of race and intolerance in society but this is not that kind of book. Instead it seemed to be a book in which the authors appeared to be unhappy with their (presumably white) sanghas not understanding their particular needs and issues regarding their racial and sexual identities. But I was left with the question "But why though?". I was under the impression that when we sit zazen we set aside the identities that we use to label ourselves. On the Zafu nothing is affirmed or negated, there is no "black", no "white", no "gay", no "straight", and so on, it's just zazen sitting zazen. What particular needs can you have in your sitting that relate to your blackness or to whoever you like to go to bed with? I found this to book to boil down to a case of it being me, me, me, as in "My needs aren't being met and you don't understand me", which surely is the antithesis of Zen and the role of self? But the thing is though, that after finishing the book I still didn't even know what these particular needs were meant to be and why the authors thought that they might be so important. For a better more illuming read about Buddhism and race try America's Racial Karma by Dr. Larry Ward.

[Rob Smith · Rating 2 out of 5]

I didn't finish this book. It's pretty disjointed. Seems all over the place.

My main problem is the book never seems to... start? A lot of the chapters come off as an introduction to someone else. And then by the time we get to the conversations about race, love, and liberation you don't care anymore.

The parts of the authors dealing with racism, their upbringing, poverty and broken homes, finding Buddhism is great. But it then gets repetitive. It seems the same similar things are said in every chapter, and it never goes in depth. I got 150 pages in, and I'm still not sure what radical dharma is. The main meat of the book seems to be these conversations the authors had with people across the country. But it takes 100 pages to get there, and you know if this is just the transcript, this just isn't enough for a book.

Someone else on another review pointed out, this book has little bearing or relationship to Buddhist traditions, especially concerning Asian-American Buddhist experiences. It's a big omission, and I think one that hinders the book. How is 'radical dharma' different than mainstream Buddhism's dharma? What is radical about this book?

[Ryan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm an anarchist and I am into Buddhist philosophy and practice. Often these two do not mix. This book gives me hope that I'm not too much of a weirdo

[Natú · Rating 4 out of 5]

Throughout this review, I'm going to reference the work of David Loy's A New Buddhist Path, a valuable point of reference because it has a similar mission to this book while approaching it with a very different perspective and methodological approach. In many ways, after reading this book, I can say that Loy's book was more what I was looking for, but once I opened up to what Radical Dharma was offering, I came to see the two as valuable companion pieces.

I have to confess that the opening lines of this book, about the 2016 US election and the experience of transitioning from the Obama to the Trump administration, left me feeling disappointed before the book even got started. I was slightly appeased in the following sentences at the open acknowledgment that systems of racial oppression are woven not only into the American psyche, but the American social, economic and political fabric as well, as it reassured me that the book was going to delve deeper than mere "get the right guy in office and it'll all be better" reductivism. It acknowledges that the system isn't "broken," it merely is not made for many (or most) of us, and in turn, harms all of us.

However, one thing that holds this book back, like many others trying to use the dharma to engage with and challenge systems of domination and inequality built into our everyday lives, is its inability to go far beyond the framework of liberal bourgeois democracy, which has become so naturalized as to be rendered invisible or accepted prima facie as the pinnacle of human freedom. This, despite being the dominant political mode of the very system at the root of this book's critique: white-supremacist, patriarchal capitalism.

This is so noticeable because while Loy in his work is extremely wary of using terms like capitalism, the proletariat, etc, within the first few pages here, Williams Sensei goes so far as to quote the Communist Manifesto line "we have nothing to lose but our chains," as well as uses terms like capital, owner, etc. This set a high bar for me early on that here was a more radical critique of the status quo from a dharmic perspective, which is not exactly what this book does. However, again, this was perhaps more an issue of discrepancy between my expectations and what this book does than between what this book is intended to do and what it does. This is because, while the work of David Loy focuses on economic oppression and inequality more generally, this book focuses specifically on institutionalized racial injustice and its pernicious way of worming into our own consciousness and perception, how practice can help us deconstruct our internalized hegemonic narratives of whiteness, Blackness, or racial self, and how practice can prepare us to meet the moment, even — especially — moments of confrontation with oppressive systems and acts.

Learning to be with suffering as an experience is part and parcel of what it means to live, and it radically alters our relationship to all of life and to the suffering of others. If you are invested in alleviating suffering, whether as an activist or change-maker or someone who’s committed to life because you hear the cries of the world, it’s important to understand that you can’t even recognize the suffering of others without fully acknowledging the despair of your own suffering. It turns out that far from dragging you down, one of the most liberating things you can do is to come to terms with the fact that some form of your suffering will always be there. To really be present with that unhooks us from the constant anxiety of trying to make it go away. Paradoxically, once we release the proposition that we are going to get rid of the suffering, then the potential to alleviate the suffering becomes possible.

One striking thing the book approaches early on and again towards the end is the idea of lineage and succession, so revered in most strands of Buddhism as a marker of authenticity, and the authors' struggle to square this with the sense of loss of connection to their own literal ancestors due to the slave trade, or simply the erasure of Black and other racialized people's histories in the United States. On the flip side, they bring up how lineage can be clung to as an excuse for a sort of positivist stasis that allows white western Buddhists to turn away from the reality of their surroundings, which, if really named and grappled with, would require a reinterpretation of the dharma and its application to our own time and geography, and perhaps a substantive break with certain aspects of sangha organization, hierarchy, and style/focus of practice. Instead, western Buddhist practice is often geared specifically, if in a veiled and even unintentional way, at avoiding confrontation with these issues, which, far from smoothing things out and cultivating an environment for personal liberation, actually hinders our own liberative potential by hindering our collective liberative potential.

[W]hite folks got the privilege of bringing the dharma into America, and they got to shape it, got to interpret it, and got to choose which aspects of the text would be highlighted, which aspects of the teachings, and which orientation of spaces would be brought to the forefront. Ultimately, I don’t think people are doing that because they need to oppress. I think they do it because they are engaged in their neurosis, to repress feeling their own experiences of disconnection, their own sense of being lonely. Rather than using the practice to go into it and connect, we’re furthering that neurosis.

Buddhism in the west is part of a continuity and can trace its lineage lines just like anywhere in Asia, but the deracination of Buddhist institutions from their geographical and socio-economic origins has opened windows for more these novel applications and practices of the dharma, just like Buddhism adapted to East Asia, Southeast Asia, etc, after leaving India, and perhaps freedom from the conservatism that Buddhist institutions sometimes embody elsewhere. To not take this opportunity to tailor our practice and organization to the particularities of our social, economic, and political realities in the service of the liberation of all sentient beings is to squander an opportunity for the dharma to really take root in our soil and grow into the practice we need it to be.

In terms of structure, after a prologue and introduction that serve as a sort of mission statement and explanation of the book's raison d'etre, the book begins with the three co-authors sharing their experiences as alienated young people grappling with their racialization in a white-supremacist culture and their class and sexual alignments. These sections are brief sketches but offer heartfelt and raw glimpses into the authors' emotional and lived experiences.

I liked Reverend Angel's section describing her upbringing and attraction to Buddhism in particular. In her youth in New York City, spent moving from one largely immigrant community to another, her experiences, as she notes, taught her a certain level of dialectical awareness through osmosis, as she watched supposedly defined, concrete social circles shift depending on context and in relation with each other. This tipped her off at an early age to the illusory nature of the world, and the shortcomings and falsehoods in our tendency to label things and put them into neat boxes. Lama Rod and Dr. Syedullah's essays are equally vulnerable and intimate.

Having grounded the pages to come in the authors' experiences and social milieux, the book shifts into a series of essays and transcribed conversations imagining what a radical dharma could look like, why it is necessary for western sanghas and practitioners, and how it can allow those practitioners to be better members in broader movements and coalitions beyond the walls of their own zendōs and centers. Some have commented negatively on the book's structure, but the authors state early on that the intention is to facilitate discussions in our own sanghas, and I think the structure serves this purpose.

Generally, while these essays acknowledge the importance of social and structural change, the "radical dharma" they develop is less a reinterpretation of the dharma mapped onto the social world and theorizing a dharmic foundation for social engagement, like Loy's A New Buddhist Path (Gustavo Gutiérrez's A Theology of Liberation is a decent comparison), but more so a method of dislodging the self-destructive mental patterns (the "mental chains") that white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy instills in individuals' minds, making them not just compliant subjects but actual agents in perpetuating the system's superstructural dynamics. Deconstructing the delusion of the self, therefore, goes hand-in-hand with the deconstruction of the delusion of the racialized self and naturalized hierarchies.

The essays themselves are thoughtfully structured and use Buddhist tropes to give form to the authors' narrative or to strengthen their assertions. For example, in the essay halfway through the book titled "It's Not About Love After All," Reverend Angel draws parallels between the development of her activism and the vehicles: first, between the Hinayana (lesser vehicle) and her early activism (fueled by anger, unfocused and destructive), then between the Mahayana (greater vehicle) and the "expedient means" of dharmic love and reflection. Rather than burning hot and wild and fading fast, this development in approach allows individuals to sustain their activism in a way that gives them clarity and grounding in their own internal processes and nature. She also draws on the bodhisattva ideal, like Loy, but emphasizes the self-sacrificing nature of the bodhisattva as one who may attain individual liberation but abstains until all may cross the finish line. She then brings this process to the Vajrayana, in which the practitioner becomes an "indestructible vehicle" for achieving liberation, not in some imagined future lifetime or kalpa, but "in this lifetime," and finally Mitrayana, where liberatory practice becomes a truly social, rather than individual.

Another thing I like about this book is how it takes many practices and slogans associated with a certain brand of liberalism, which models itself as progressive but hides behind sloganeering, and turns them on their head. For example, the idea of "self-care," which many of us recognize as capitalism's hacking and instrumentalization of the alienation it causes in order to encourage people's continued consumption and individualism/individualization. Here, however, self-care among the oppressed is reframed as an act of unsettling hegemonic social dynamics and forcing a confrontation with oppression.

While this sometimes leads back to the idea that individual action is radical in that it can engender systemic change, equating personal and systemic change rather than the former facilitating the latter, I do like how these points are usually paired with the recognition that many of the so-called progressive and radical practices that we do currently engage with are actually not as combative as we may think. Protest, for example, may seem on the surface to be a radical condemnation of the system, but in reality, the authors note how protest is ephemeral and bookended by participation in the system, and thus tolerable to the establishment. On the other hand, removing oneself from this system, even momentarily, offers space for critique and engagement with radical ideas in a way that is not, like protest, a part of the capitalist totality.

Likewise for the "progressive" tendency to create bubbles of discourse and rid oneself of the responsibility of educating those not already in the know or meeting them where they are, choosing instead to engage in a contest of one-upsmanship, "correct" lingo, and posturing. This is idealism in the way it mistakenly conflates conceptual, internal change with material change. They also criticize the inward-looking, self-helpified practice so popular in the west that offers spaces where individuals (often white and bourgeois) to curb some of their own suffering in isolation from others; places where you can go, sit beside other people in silence, listen to a dharma talk, and never be too challenged by fellow sangha members or teachers. The authors present a different vision, one where people take part in fellowship that is radical because it is built upon the interrogation of and confrontation with the roots of both personal and collective or social dukkha, again to reference Loy.

One criticism I have of this book is how it espouses what I see in many engaged sanghas and dharma communities in the west, which is a sort of engagement with a so-called radical or progressive tradition of the 20th century that is in fact a constructed narrative of progressivism propagated by the status quo as a pressure valve. For example, the book mentions the chanting of an MLK Jr. speech; MLK was certainly an immensely important person who played a crucial role in the history of racial justice, but a little bit of scratching the surface unsettles many myths that we in this country hold about MLK: his message of peace, equality, and incorporation of Black people into the American project, when in fact his activism led him to the conviction right before his untimely assassination that a more radical rupture was necessary. The US government's cooptation of MLK (stamps, holidays, etc.) is something we should interrogate, since in doing so, the US has distanced its own internal contradictions and oppression by presenting an image of MLK that is sanitized of its actual radical content.

By adapting wholecloth narratives about radicalism propgated by the establishment itself, I fear that many sanghas, in their attempt to radically engage with systemic oppression, actually reproduce the same defanged performance politics rampant among the so-called progressive liberal movement that this book challenges. This is not to say that there is no place for holding up some of these figures, MLK being a clear example of someone who we should engage with, but rather a call for a more critical re-evaluation of the narratives of these figures that we have been presented with, and more importantly, an interrogation of how these narratives play into oppression by inculcating in us a certain set of values and tactics that the establishment knows are no threat. Likewise with the book's mention of the South African reconciliation process as an example of a non-violent process of healing trauma. This fails to acknowledge the failures of the reconciliation process to grapple with apartheid's lasting impacts on Black and Colored South Africans, instead simply buying into the uncritical notion that it is good because it is peaceful. To frame it through the book's own language, there is value in centering radical traditions driven by love and constructive impulses rather than anger and destructive ones, but not in an uncritical way. This is the same fetishization of concepts and dualism that our practice is intended to combat and demystify.

In the end, despite my criticisms or initial disappointment with the scope or focus of the book, I think the authors made the right choice by not harboring illusions that the dharma will be a major force of change in the western world, but focusing instead on how dharma practitioners can use their practice as tools to reinforce their own activism and cultivate the skills and insight necessary to be an agent of change, or better put, a more effective piece in the broader radical movement. I think it is much more realistic, and more helpful in the concrete sense, to propose ways that we can implement the skills and things we learn in our practice to a radical agenda, rather than spending 200 pages providing a utopian vision that sounds good on paper, but does not make it off the page.

[Bookworm · Rating 2 out of 5]

Disappointing. I had read another book of Rev. angel Kyodo williams and jumped at the chance to read this one. While not Buddhist I was intrigued by the topics of the book supposedly addressing racial injustice, white supremacy, etc. in Buddhist communities and wondered what I could take away from that.
 
And initially it was fascinating. The purpose of the book, the need to address these issues both within and without Buddhisim, what some of the terminology meant, etc. It sounded like it would be an interesting read.
 
Unfortunately it goes downhill after the introduction or so. The book reads very much like a conversation between the three authors. And while that is a format that can work, I can understand why people felt disappointed. It seemed like a conversation that was very much for them and their community. There's nothing wrong with that in itself, but the text does seem jargon-y and "isolated" for reasons mentioned above. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be getting from the book or their conversation.
 
It was interesting to read the perspectives of these practitioners and I felt I could somewhat get some of the points they were discussing. But ultimately the text was unapproachable for me. I don't know if someone who is an actual Buddhist might get more out of it but based on other reviews that might be a bit of a toss-up. 
 
I regret buying it but this wasn't readily available at my local library. I'm not sure I'd recommend this. You may have to read through a few chapters (as williams says, you can read this pieces) to see if it's something that is for you.

[Therese Brink · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rated 5 stars for content, not quality of writing.

Three black, queer Buddhist teachers specifically target US Buddhists in creating a society that seeks liberation for oppressed people in the US. The authors are not afraid of a messy conversation.

Some of my favorite passages from the book:

"The politics of respectability and the hidden rules of politeness that silently govern white belonging to "polite Society" demand that love remain personal. The further the love is from some norm, the more behind closed doors, in the closet, relegated to corners of guilt, laden with shame it must be. The result of having "privatized" love is we are not comfortable with its raw, unabashed, unapologetic, unmitigated expression. Love for one another, especially across lines of difference, has been taboo for the overwhelming part of our national lives. - page 104

From Rev. Angel: meditation is not the primary practice for most Buddhists in the world. The thick number of people who practice meditation would be here in the States and in the UK. I think it's not an accident that white convert sanghas are putting such strong emphasis on non-relational ways of developing their sanghas.... We can use anything, even a practice of liberation, to further our neuroses. What walking the Buddha's path calls us to do is to shine the light on the path of neuroses and to do exactly the opposite. We don't have t know what the outcome is; we just have to know we have a neurosis around hyper-individualism in this society and disconnection and distraction and we are increasingly out of relationship with each other, no matter how many Facebook friends we have. - page 164

[zaynab · Rating 4 out of 5]

An enthralling read from start to finish. A long overdue book on so many levels. The three authors bring the black prophetic fire into conversation with their practices as black Buddhists and Buddhist communities. They demonstrate how black religiosity is inherently interspiritual, organically multi-religious, rarely does it exist in the vacuum that western conceptions of monotheism/polytheism/deism attempt to stratify non-western religions. They bring their church upbringings, their mosque upbringings, the need for dharma to be about fellowship in the way that black religious communities understand it. They locate liberation, radical dharma, in this dharma that tackles white supremacy head on, and makes the space for identity without washing it away under the notion of "identity politics" being the problem.

There's so much here I think people will find valuable, interesting, touching, and difficult to grasp all the same. But it's worth the journey, totally worth the journey

(my only hiccup was the identification of one person who calls themselves two-spirit and also of European-American descent. i know people who aren't indigenous feel as though they can't say "oh you can't be two spirit because you're not indigenous" but it was a perfect teaching moment in a rehashed dialogue about the dangers and harms of white supremacy.)

[Sian Lile-Pastore · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a collection of voices - essays, interviews, etc etc - rather than a linear book, and I think that creates a richness and a life to it, even though it may have been an easier read if it had been constructed differently.

particularly loved Lama Rod Owens contributions

[Casey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Okay. I got about half way through and I had to stop. I just feel so deeply hurt by the enormity of erasure that is happening in this book. I don’t understand how a group of Buddhist teachers could write a book about Buddhism and race without talking about Asian American identity. I feel hurt and frustrated by the characterization of ‘American Buddhism’ as one that has only come about in the last 50 years and is dominated by white people. The erasure of Asian American Buddhists from American Buddhism, American liberation struggles and American racial violence makes my heart ache so deeply. The only section that felt really worth reading to me was Radicalizing Dharma Dreams which explores an abolitionist dharma practice, but even this section engages in the strange and imaginary East/West binary.

[Sahel's · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am not very well-read in Buddhism or Black prophetic tradition. However, I enjoyed the book and learned from it. I specifically liked the fact that the three authors had added a glossary at the end. It’s so heartwarming to see how the authors care about their readers’ comprehension and do not want them to get lost throughout the journey.

I want to lift two points among all the wisdom shared in this book. One is that like Claudia Rankine, the authors in this book have attempted to share the message that in order to face and challenge racism and oppression we must look into ourselves and begin from us.

My second point is that binary oppositions of emotion/logic have created a messy tangle that requires a great deal of activism and care work to abolish. Systems of oppression have downgraded emotions such as love to the point that loving one another (or speaking of emotions in a so-called formal event) reads like a weakness in people. Moreover, it does not allow people to actively listen to and empathize with each other. The book has a profound definition and deconstruction of love. They mention, “The politics of respectability and the hidden rules of politeness that silently govern white belonging to "polite Society" demand that love remain personal. The further the love is from some norm, the more behind closed doors, in the closet, relegated to corners of guilt, laden with shame it must be. The result of having "privatized" love is we are not comfortable with its raw, unabashed, unapologetic, unmitigated expression. Love for one another, especially across lines of difference, has been taboo for the overwhelming part of our national lives” (115).

I have a questions that may be an ignorant one. The book might have mentioned it and I might have missed, but I’m not sure if I clearly understand the difference between “radical dharma” and Buddhism dharma. Is the word “radical” pointing to the abolitionist perspectives of this work?

[Kazemi Adachi · Rating 5 out of 5]

I would recommend this book for Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike. Each of the authors translate the dharma into radical black, feminist, and queer lineages. They use the academic verbiage of critical social theory that piques my elite academic interests while basing their dharma in lived experience through wit, wisdom, and humility.

[Shauna Howard · Rating 5 out of 5]

Obviously, anyone can purchase this book; however, in my opinion, this book serves as a reminder for anyone who needs a celestial reminder that dignity, grace, love, community, and thriving are for everyone, not just cis-white-heterosexual-Christian males. Buy it and/ or listen to the audiobook and take up your space here in the universe.

[Monica Edwards · Rating 4 out of 5]

I struggled at times with the writing—three authors and three different voices, plus formal writing shifts to conversation transcripts. But, I love how this book made me think, and feel challenged.

[Valerie · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best spiritual books I have ever read. I wish I read it sooner. The connections between race, liberation, and dharma are powerful, compelling, and thoughtful. I highlighted so much in the book and will be going back to review and connect my own personal dots.

[Sheila · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is phenomenal. So many concepts and thoughts to sit with. Definitely a book I will be reading again. It Is Not Love After All is a great reflection for BIPOC activists feeling burnout or frustration.

[MJ · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very, very good. I especially appreciated the portions on the prison system. I found the conversations portion to be the weakest.

[Madeleine · Rating 4 out of 5]

rev angel kyodo williams, lamar rod owens, and jasmine syedullah invite the reader into an electric dialogue between Black buddhists on healing, liberation, and interconnectivity. as someone with only a basic grasp of buddhism, i struggled initially some of its content as it most directly addresses practitioners of buddhism, without much of context to outsiders. but particularly as the text turned to conversations within faith communities on race, love, and liberation, this text felt electric. a fiery call to action to disrupt our existing structures and undo white supremacy culture as it emerges in every space — faith, non-hierarchical org, nonprofit. an ode to interconnectivity, to a buddhist politic of difference, and to healing and reckoning with the skin that all of us has in the game of liberation.
"if our movements focus solely on rights, then that polarized view gives rise to the very policing that diminishes humanity by seeking to sort us into categories of relative entitlements. when we allow ourselves to operate inside of this framework, we abdicate our responsibility to fully engage each other as human beings. we give power over to a few people to qualify and quantify those categories of entitlement. if we can't dream greater, we are only demanding lives that are just outside of intolerable."

[Trisha Kingsbury · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book made me uncomfortable. It left me shaken, in awe, and exhilarated. I’m so glad I read it.

[Tucker · Rating 4 out of 5]

A heartfelt message: When one group of people is beaten down or devalued, that hurts everyone, including the people who are supposed to be "on top" and benefiting from that system. The people in the privileged position need to realize how their own options and possibilities are constrained when others around them are obstructed and their gifts are hidden. Anyone who realizes how they're being hurt needs to "interrupt" narratives and behaviors that reinforce the collective dysfunction because if you are not interrupting then you are participating in it and hurting yourself and others. The Buddhist sangha (community) should be a place to do that kind of interruption since it is the recognition of a problem in the moment, not ignoring the problem and sitting with the injury, that will best allow healing and relief in the long run.

[Steve · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is three voices of black Buddhists, one male, all gay. The two women are from the Zen tradition and the guy is from a Tibetan tradition, where he did the 3 year retreat. There are essays and panel discussions. The question seems to be how to make someone like them feel comfortable to join a sangha, and what their experiences are of discomfort. Rev. angel doesn't like to be called articulate because why would that be a surprise? Are you saying that black people are not usually articulate? I am glad to hear about people's experience, people talking about race and feelings of oppression. I quite liked this book.

[Lily Jamaludin · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a needed book! The authors do such thought-provoking, beautiful, and yes, radical work in envisioning a new America. I think it equips activists with a new spiritual language to energise your anti-oppression and liberation work. I particularly enjoyed the chapters where the authors provided their own testimonies of transforming their own racial/sexual/gender wounds. There was a wonderful moment in one of the chapters where a white man who is a self-proclaimed former racist describes how his white sangha hold sessions to address their white privilege/responsibility. I wish that side of the transformation work was expanded on more.

[Lawrence · Rating 4 out of 5]

ht jax

looking backwards, ground in the present, dreaming forwards, this book explores how white cis heteropatriarchy has tainted all american spirituality. this book focusing on buddhism is the reflection of three queer black buddhists (a collective) who wrestle with what i means to challenge the old and be new faces of buddhism. the authors argue that in order to achieve liberation we must both stand on the shoulders of our ancestors while getting deeply comfortable with transcendent, intersectional movements.

[Kristin · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I listened to Rev. angel's interview on Buddhist Geeks I knew I needed to read this book. I was not disappointed. I was surprised though - I had this preconceived notion that this book was going to have "kumbaya" vibes. I was stripped of those notions almost immediately. This book is about Love - not Hallmark(tm) love, but fierce, genuine love. I am definitely going to be getting a copy for myself.