Trauma, Tonglen, and Torshi: How To Unravel Without Falling Apart

Below is my piece for Turning Wheel, the Buddhist Peace Fellowship's magazine. All rights reserved, no copying or reposting please. Be kind, rewind...and all of that.

Several years ago, before I found the dharma, I was the victim of a hate crime. In broad daylight, a group of young men surrounded me and threatened my life in a department store - and all because I was not easily categorized in terms of gender. When faced with the threats, my first response wasn't to lash out or run. I instead tried to talk with them rationally and compassionately, while maintaining my boundaries. After things continued, I started to go into shock and I don't remember much else other than remaining still and silent while they said all manner of things to me. A short while later, they left, and it would take four years for me to be able to talk about it.

I was with my friend Laura four years later when the fog cracked and things started to unravel and open. I awoke from a flashback-filled nightmare and I realized then that I had a choice: I could deny the nightmare happened or I could talk about it and get help. I could deny the threats happened or I could deal with their aftermath. I remembered the story of Buddha befriending Mara and I decided that it was time to do the same with this experience and stop looking for alternatives or ways to circumvent what had happened long ago. That day, I told Laura about the nightmare and the incident. I have no recollection of what was said but I do remember that she honored what I had to say, held it gently, and encouraged me to say and do only what felt right at the time. Over the course of the next few months, I entered into a terrifying but ultimately healing relationship with my trauma. I figured that if I befriended my traumatic experiences and heard them out, they wouldn't vex me so much, and sure enough, after awhile they didn't.

I won't kid you though - there were some dark, dark places in the befriending, and when these things arose, I found many of answers I needed by engaging in tonglen. When you realize there have been many people around the world and throughout time who have gone through similar experiences, the isolation tends to fall away. Each day, I continue to breathe for them, and somewhere out there, someone is breathing for me.

There are still occasionally times when I am ashamed to talk about what happened to me and the post-traumatic part that followed, but I make a mindful effort to do so to the degree that it feels possible. I persist through my uneasiness because this experience needs living faces, because too many of my trans brothers and sisters do not make it out of these situations alive, either becoming casualties of the events themselves or to the isolation that follows. I persist because too often when we come forward, we are not believed by the police and even our own families, or worse, we are told we deserve the violence. I continue to campaign for our dignity in the face of a world that is rarely kind to those who are different. I carry on because I believe in the grand scheme of things that compassion will prevail over any attempt of division.

Yet, there are also times when I am overcome by an indignant sort of sadness about this experience not being a part of my plan. I still find myself smarting at the idea that I remain changed by this experience and my attackers have likely forgotten all about it. In my lovingkindness meditation, I still find myself resistant when it comes to including those who threatened my life, yet I do it most mornings because I still want good things for them, even if that seems a bit strange. As Zenkei Blanche Hartman has said, we must pay attention to what we're doing, do the best we can, notice when we fall short of our aspiration, and make a renewed effort. This is the essence of my practice - making a mindful effort to practice and work for peace within myself and the world, realizing where there is grasping and resistance, and recommitting each moment. It has given me the ability to see everyone, including my attackers, for who and what they are - other people wanting to be recognized and loved by the world around them.

This year, I was invited to a radical Passover celebration that Laura and some friends were organizing. Like the proceedings themselves, the food was both abundant and nourishing in all of the right places, and I was introduced to torshi (pickled vegetables; in this case, turnips and beets). Spicy and earthen, eating torshi causes me to make a ridiculous face, somewhere between the aftermath of a sour apple and a spicy pepper. But on my tongue, the taste is electric, something like a mixture of potential energy and accomplished feats. This June, in honor of my graduation, Laura made me a special batch of torshi of my very own. This is truly no small endeavor, since each batch takes weeks to complete. Even now, it warms my belly to know that someone thinks enough of me to go to such lengths.

As Buddhists, our practice is continually going to great lengths to be with people and things as they are. It is committing to being with ourselves, even when it is inconvenient and challenging. It is responding with a gentle solidness and making our best effort to show up consistently. It is giving fully of ourselves and our resources for justice or the nourishment of others. It is as easy as breathing and as difficult as staying put. Truthfully, there are times this practice flies in the face of my instinct and everything I know, but I continue because I realize somewhere in my bones - where there is courage, there is freedom.