Carrie Shirley OCT 12,
2015 Broadly (blog)
In light of his recent statement about a future
female Dalai Lama needing to be attractive, I asked my mom for
insight on the current Dalai Lama, with whom she went on an
uncomfortable date when she was 22.
In
a BBC
interview last
month, the Dalai Lama suggested that, if his successor were to be a
woman, she would have to be attractive, otherwise "not much use."
With the breathy, halting chuckle of a man whose joke did not land,
he doubled down on his assertion. "It's true!" he stammered, as the
interviewer tried to change the subject.
Reception to this
interview ranged from shock to anger. For decades, the Dalai Lama
has been the most universally well-liked religious
figure and public
figure in
general. How could he say something so inflammatory and backwards
about women? Has he always been like this, and we just never
noticed?
While social media
affords us an intimate—if often one-sided—relationship with
celebrities, figures like the Dalai Lama still prove impregnable
despite their attempts at candor. It's one thing to watch someone
live-stream their colonic on Periscope; it's another to simply
spend the day with them. Forty years ago, my mom did just that. She
went on a date with the Dalai Lama.
At the timeI my mom
was studying at the Architectural Association in London; the Dalai
Lama was visiting Cambridge to meet with Sir Karl Popper, David
Bohm, and Carl Friedrich von Weizsäcker of their astrophysics
department in an effort to findcommon
ground between
science and Buddhism.
Tenzin Gyatso was
identified as the 14th Dalai Lama at age two, taken to Lhasa to be
educated by monks in a 1,000-room palace, and instated as the
political leader of Tibet at age 15.
When he and my mom
met, he had been in exile for 14 years, living in India.
My mom was 22. She
was living on Regents Park Road with two other women in what was
essentially a one-bedroom apartment with a large closet that could
hold a twin bed. She and her friend Daisy—who was in London to
study opera—slept in the bedroom together. They had many short-term
sub-tenants. But that fall, they hosted an art history grad student
named Carolyn. And Carolyn set up the date with the Dalai Lama. "He
wanted to meet some American women," my mom recalled.
In a
1993 interview with
the New York Times, the Dalai Lama said,
"Even in the 1960s and 1970s, I didn't have much knowledge of
[women's issues]." This is putting it mildly, according to my mom.
"He seemed very naive...maybe a little shy around girls," she
said.
In some ways, the
date was fairly ordinary: Carolyn, Daisy, and my mom took the train
to Cambridge to go on a walking tour of the campus with their
gentleman caller. In other ways, it was less so—he introduced
himself to them as the Dalai Lama, sticking to formalities. "I
didn't know how to address him, so I just waved when I wanted his
attention," my mom said.
In addition to the
walking tour, my mom and her friends were treated to a tour of his
room, where he had set up a shrine with "ancient artifacts," which
he told them were "from B.C." Then he and my mom went out on the
Charles River. "He did not do any of the work," she recalled. "I
had to do all the punting." My mom punted the small boat along the
river while the Dalai Lama sat cradled on the cushioned bench,
remarking on the Cambridge scenery.
"He was a little
weird and hard to talk to," my mom said, so his recent comments
didn't surprise her. And widespread shock seems a little late in
the game, at this point. The truth is that the
Dalai Lama has made this "joke" about a female Dalai Lama many
times: with Larry
King, with German
Buddhist writer Michaela
Doepke, with
the Sunday
Times—to name a few. In
his BBC interview, he makes this joke in reference to some
half-forgotten interview he did in Paris with a French women's
magazine 20 or 30 years ago.
It's also perhaps
misleading to label this viewpoint a joke, since he makes the same
argument earnestly in his autobiography, My
Spiritual Journey. "Beauty is one of the eight qualities of a
precious human body on the physical level," he wrote. "It is
obvious that if a female Dalai Lama is ugly to look at, she will
attract fewer people. The aim of a female reincarnation is to
transmit the Buddhist teachings to the public in a convincing
way."
For all his demi-divinity, the Dalai Lama is
certainly not above a dick joke.
And the Dalai Lama
makes no secret of the way that attractive human bodies affect him.
In a New York Times interview, when asked about his weaknesses, he
replied, "Of course, sometimes beautiful women...But then, many
monks have the same experience. Some of it is curiosity: If you use
this, what is the feeling? [Points to his groin.]" For all his
demi-divinity, the Dalai Lama is certainly not above a dick
joke.
The Dalai Lama is
the successor in a line of incarnations of the Buddha of
Compassion, Avalokitesvara. The
Avalokitesvara is variably depicted as male or female, but in
Tibetan Buddhism, he is always male.
Professor Rita
Gross, author of
Buddhism After
Patriarchy, notes, "Tibetan
Buddhism is very patriarchal."
This strain of
Buddhism was established in the 14th century. The title Dalai Lama
arose in 1587, and by 1641, the Dalai Lama—this one was the
fifth—had complete political and religious authority over Tibet. He
was considered to be Tibet's greatest leader, until Tenzin
Gyatso.
In the past, Dalai
Lamas indicated where they will be reincarnated by writing a letter
to be read after their death, or a prominent lama will have dreams
of the child's house, or heavenly signs will surface. In the case
of the current Dalai Lama, an omen predicted his identity. Eighteen
months after the death of the 13th Dalai Lama, Tibet was in
political turmoil. The monks consulted with the Dalai Lama's
embalmed body, which was set up in the lotus posture gazing
southward for meditation. When a few observant monks noticed that
the figure's head tilted eastward, even a day after their
correction, they were convinced that his successor would be found
in the east.
In many ways, the
reincarnated form the Dalai Lama takes is a reflection of the needs
of Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism at the time. The Dalai Lama before
Tenzin Gyatso left Tibet in turmoil, and a successor—the right kind
of successor—had to be found immediately. As Gross puts it, "All
religions reflect their social settings." And Tibet has a tradition
of thinking of women as inferior. The word for "woman" in the
Tibetan language literally translates to "born low."
This hierarchical
attitude is at odds with what Gross calls "the true Buddhist
teachings." "Buddhists can't come up with the same excuses for male
dominance." Yet reincarnated leaders almost always take male form.
The institution of reincarnation essentially upholds the status
quo. However, Gross goes on to say, "There has been some shift
among some of the more prominent leaders of the Buddhist
world."
In his biography, the Dalai Lama said that
the next Dalai Lama could be a woman or a man.
The current Dalai
Lama has made conflicting comments regarding his successor. In his
biography, he asserts, "I have told the Tibetan people that it is
up to them to decide whether they want another
reincarnation...Reincarnation is about continuing your work from
the previous life. If they think my work is important and relevant,
I will reincarnate."
But later, in an
interview with the German
newspaper Welt am
Sonntagg, he
suggested that he believes that, "the institution of the Dalai Lama
has served its purpose. We had a Dalai Lama for almost five
centuries. The 14th Dalai Lama now is very popular. Let us then
finish with a popular Dalai Lama." In the meantime, the People's
Republic of China has stated that
they will be choosing the next Dalai Lama after Tenzin Gyatso
passes away.
In his biography,
the Dalai Lama said that the next Dalai Lama could be a woman or a
man, that "the institution of the Dalai Lama must change according
to the times."
"That's come a long
way for popular Tibetan Buddhism," says Gross. "Whether it's going
to amount to anything, that's an open question."
In the Tibetan
Buddhist tradition, the Buddha of Compassion has a female aspect
called Tara. Often called the Mother of all Buddhas, some stories
trace her back to an original princess who attained a high level of
enlightenment. A group of monks suggested that she should pray to
be reborn as a man, so that she could progress further. Tara
refused, saying that those who see gender as a barrier to attaining
enlightenment are "weak-minded worldlings." She resolved to always
be reborn as a woman. The current
Dalai cited Tara
as an example of "a true feminist movement in Buddhism."
Women can be symbols for worship, but they
cannot be leaders with legitimate political and religious
power.
In Tibet, Sri
Lanka, and Thailand, nuns were prevented from receiving the highest
ordinations. At the same time, there are lineages in the Tibetan
tradition of female high reincarnations. In short: female
practitioners are kept from power; female figures enjoy reverence.
Gross notes that Tara is the most popular deity in Tibet—male or
female. Again, there's a difference between the letter of Buddhist
teachings, and how they're carried out. Women can be symbols for
worship, but they cannot be leaders with legitimate political and
religious power.
For his part, the
Dalai Lama has stated that he is a feminist. "Isn't that what you
call someone who fights for women's rights?" he asked during
a 2009
speech at
the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, TN.
Gross is
optimistic: "I think the Dalai Lama is sincere. The real question
is whether the Tibetan people would accept."
After their day
with the Dalai Lama, my mom and her friends returned to their tiny
apartment. "We didn't make fun of him. Probably we giggled about
him afterward," she said. And then the calls started. He called
them more than three times, asking to "get together
again."
"It was kind of
like having someone's little brother call you for a date," my mom
said.
When I asked her
why she didn't take him up on his offer, my mom replied, "It didn't
seem appropriate. Because of who he is and was. And because he did
seem so boyish. It was peculiar." For someone with inherited
centuries of wisdom and decades of Buddhist study, the Dalai Lama
lacked one thing: He couldn't speak to women. Couldn't make
conversation with them, couldn't relate to them, and certainly
couldn't hit on them. As my mom said, "He was just a pest." Forty
years later, not much has changed.