Rooted in Reality

There is a difference between seeing the world clearly and allowing what we see to consume us.

For those who experience racism, discrimination, and injustice, there can be a temptation—sometimes even an expectation—to choose between two extremes.

We can remain angry and vigilant, carrying the weight of every injustice with us.

Or we can turn toward spirituality, forgiveness, or non-attachment in ways that ask us to minimize what is actually happening.

Neither feels like freedom.

Non-attachment does not require indifference to injustice.

We can recognize racism clearly and oppose it while being careful not to let another person's ignorance determine the condition of our own mind.

This distinction has become increasingly important to me.

There are moments when I feel anger, disappointment, and even betrayal by people whom I expected to understand, to stand beside me, or simply to recognize our shared humanity. Those feelings are real. Pretending otherwise would not be spiritual practice. It would be avoidance.

The practice is learning what to do with those feelings once they arrive.

Seeing Clearly

Buddhist practice does not ask us to look away from suffering.

It asks us to see suffering clearly.

That means acknowledging racism when it appears. It means recognizing inequity, hatred, fear, and systems that harm people. It means speaking when speaking is necessary, setting boundaries when boundaries are necessary, and acting when action is necessary.

But seeing clearly also means resisting the temptation to allow one painful encounter—or even many painful encounters—to define everyone we meet.

Discernment says:

I will pay attention to what you show me.

Fear says:

I already know who you are.

Those are not the same thing.

I want discernment.

Protecting the Heart Without Closing It

There is wisdom in learning from experience.

Trust does not have to be automatic. Trust can be earned through consistency, reciprocity, courage, and action.

But protection can slowly become isolation if we aren't paying attention.

After enough disappointment, the heart can begin building walls and calling them boundaries.

A boundary allows me to decide who receives access to my life.

A wall assumes no one can be trusted with access at all.

The challenge is learning to protect ourselves without becoming imprisoned by the very protection we created.

Anger Is Information, Not a Home

Anger can tell us something important.

Something has been violated.

Something matters.

Perhaps dignity.

Perhaps justice.

Perhaps safety.

Perhaps the expectation that another human being would recognize our humanity and respond accordingly.

I don't believe we have to be ashamed of that anger.

But anger can be a messenger without becoming our permanent residence.

If I allow another person's racism, hatred, fear, or ignorance to occupy my mind indefinitely, then their actions continue affecting me long after the encounter has ended.

That does not mean forgetting.

It does not mean excusing.

It does not mean reconciliation without accountability.

It means refusing to carry someone else's hatred inside myself.

Rooted in Reality

My aspiration is neither naïveté nor cynicism.

It is to remain rooted in reality.

To recognize that injustice exists.

To recognize that beautiful human beings exist too.

To recognize that solidarity cannot simply be assumed because someone belongs to a particular community, holds certain political beliefs, practices a particular religion, or speaks the language of justice.

Character reveals itself through action.

So I can remain open while allowing trust to develop slowly.

I can oppose injustice without allowing hatred to teach me how to hate.

I can establish boundaries without abandoning compassion.

I can experience anger without allowing anger to determine who I become.

And perhaps this is another expression of non-attachment.

Not detachment from the world.

Not indifference toward suffering.

But refusing to surrender the condition of our minds to the ignorance of others.

A Practice for Freedom

When anger, distrust, or disappointment arises, I return to these words:

I will see clearly without becoming consumed.

I will protect myself without closing my heart.

Trust will be earned through action.

I will not carry another person's hatred inside me.

May I remain free.

Freedom does not require pretending the world is something that it isn't.

Freedom asks us to see the world exactly as it is—and still choose, moment after moment, what we will cultivate within ourselves.

That is the practice.

And I return to it again and again.

— Fusatsu, Apriel Jessup-Searcy