This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at www.sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Good morning, everyone. So happy to be here on such a special weekend. Anybody here for the first time? Well, welcome. Very happy to have you. This is a rather daunting occasion for me, but I'm just delighted to share this moment with you. And I guess I'll tell you a little bit about myself. My first career was as a journalist. My second career was as an academic, as a professor, and my current career is as a hospice chaplain. And as I think about my life, my work, my practice, my development as a queer person, and my growth in practice, they emerged simultaneously and have been deeply intertwined all along.

[01:17]

So the first Pride parade that I attended was 39 years ago in 1984. And I want to tell you a little bit about that experience, my own experience of coming out. I want to speak a little bit about the current situation facing LGBTQIA plus people. And then I'll speak a little bit about my experience as a chaplain and caring for people at the end of life and doing that as a queer person. So that's kind of how I want to proceed. And I'll close with some suggestions and maybe a little interaction. So that's where I'm going. So in 1984, I went to my first Pride march with some friends from college. I was not out to myself at that time, but I had some friends and we went to the march.

[02:21]

And that summer, Ronald Reagan was running for re-election. And there was a group called the Moral Majority. How many of you are familiar with the Moral Majority? They were an evangelical Christian group, a fundamentalist Christian group that were very politically active, and they had a big role in Ronald Reagan's reelection. And that summer, after the parade, later that summer, the Democratic National Convention happened in San Francisco. And as a kind of in-your-face to the queer community, The Moral Majority decided to have its conference in San Francisco the week before. And I was a reporter for the Daily Californian newspaper, student newspaper at Berkeley, and I was covering political rallies and events that summer. And I'd had some experience in my youth with fundamentalist Christianity, so I decided to cover this event. And I went with...

[03:24]

another reporter, a lesbian woman, and a gay man friend who was a photographer. We went to Union Square. And up to that point in my life, I had never seen so much police power ever. There were cops on foot and on horses and on motorcycles and in squad cars. There was a bomb squad and a SWAT team and a metal detector to get in. This was 1984. This was not usual at that time. And behind this big array of artillery were a bunch of mostly rich white people congratulating themselves about how they were right and everybody else was wrong. And they were passing out. I saw some pamphlets that they were distributing. One of them showed a little blonde girl in ponytails. In shorts, you know, cute little girl huddled in a corner like this screaming with a big hairy arm hovering over her with an axe. And the title of this pamphlet was murder, violence and homosexuality.

[04:27]

And another version of the pamphlet showed a little blonde boy being dragged into a bathroom stall. And the message was that gay people are inherently unstable. We are dangerous. We are a threat to children and to society that has to be neutralized. That was the language. Outside, the John Brown anti-Klan committee was screaming, go to hell, fall well, go to hell, fall well. And if he had walked out the door, I have no doubt that they would have lynched him. The police were busting heads. I remember one medic... with a bright yellow medic shirt with a big red cross on it, covered in her own blood because she'd tried to defend someone from being beaten by the police. I was overwhelmed by this violence on all sides. And so I went into the hotel bathroom and just wept. A couple of days later, there was a one-day sitting at Berkeley Zen Center where I had begun practicing.

[05:35]

It was led by Dainan Katagiri Roshi. It's the only time I ever met him. And I went to him in Dokusan and said, I don't know what to do about all this political violence. I don't know what to do with it. And he said, you know, we can't scream and yell and holler for peace. If we want peace, we have to learn how to be it. And to me at 19, that was a new idea. So I took the fall semester of my junior year of college off and I went to Green Gulch. And the night before I left, the reporter, the woman reporter who had covered the conference with me, came over and didn't leave. And so I had a lot of stuff to work out and sit with during my stay at Green Gulch. I went through my own coming out process during that practice period. And at the end of that time, there was a one-day sitting, and at the very end of the very last period of Zazen, I was sitting there looking at the wall,

[06:38]

And suddenly into my mind came the image of this police officer that I had seen in San Francisco at the moral majority event. And he was in riot gear and he had this face shield and he had a baton and he was shoving people around even though nobody was resisting him. And I remember looking him in the eye and saying, why are you doing this? Faced like a stone. Seemed like the opposite of everything I thought was true and good in the world. And suddenly the boundary between me and this person dissolved. And I understood that I was who I was, where I was, doing what I was doing, because he was who he was, where he was, doing what he was doing. Our lives were utterly inseparable. And I also had found that I had the same capacity for self-righteousness as the people I was criticizing. So that was really what set me on the path of Zen.

[07:46]

Recognizing that the other is myself. So a few years later, as a journalist, I got involved. in helping to found an organization called, at that time, the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association. The acronym does not roll off the tongue, NLGJA. It's now called NLGJA, the Association of LGBTQIA, etc. Journalists. And it was an organization of journalists in mainstream media. And we encouraged us to come out in our workplaces to advocate for better coverage. Remember, it was the height of the AIDS pandemic. And people were dying. And Reagan said nothing about it for a long, long time.

[08:49]

And so we wanted to encourage people in the mainstream media, gay and lesbian and other people in the mainstream media, to... change the way that our issues and our concerns and ourselves were covered, and also to advocate for themselves for domestic partner benefits. And they were enormously successful. I mean, I think Anderson Cooper and Rachel Maddow are examples of how far that organization has come and the ways that it helped to change the culture. I had a very behind-the-scenes role. You know, I wrote the articles on corporation and the bylaws and I set up the membership database and I edited the journal. I was very much behind the scenes. But I'm really proud of my role in doing that. And when the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage 30 years later, I burst into tears. And I thought, you know, I actually had something to do with that. So never doubt. Your own capacity to make change.

[09:57]

It's one of the things, as I say, that I'm proudest of in my life. And also, I never put it on my resume until I was 50. And then it was like at the bottom of the last page. And I was involved also in, I was a co-founder of the Lesbian and Gay Employee Association at Wells Fargo Bank. which is still going 30 years later. That was not an easy struggle. And one of the questions that I have had since that experience at Green Gulch is how do I assert my dignity, my right to be myself, free from harm, free from threat, free from oppression, without otherizing the people who would deny me those things.

[10:58]

That's the ongoing question. How do I not make the people who hate me and people like me other? Because, in my opinion, othering is the root of all evil. So that's the question. And now, you know, we have made huge progress over the last 30 years, enormous progress. And I'm very pleased about that. But there's also a terrible backlash happening. And it is targeting this tiny fraction and most vulnerable fraction of our community, people who are trans. Some 500 laws have been proposed around the country targeting trans people's right to get medical care, to go to the bathroom they want to go to. And the same kind of rhetoric is being used.

[12:00]

They are a threat to society. They are a danger to children. And they need to be neutralized, eradicated. It used to be, not so many years ago, it was... and the threat of Sharia law that was stirring everybody up, you know? So how do we resist this kind of targeting, again, in a way that does not demonize or otherize the people who are opposed to the things that we feel we have a right to? So... My own understanding of trans issues continues to evolve. When I first came out, I did not understand how some people could choose to, who could want to adopt gender expressions that I rejected, expressions of femininity and masculinity that I rejected for myself.

[13:10]

I didn't understand that. And I went to a conference, an academic conference, and I heard a wonderful talk by a trans man, a Buddhist trans man named Ray Buckner, a brilliant graduate student at the time. And he gave a talk about being Buddhist and trans. And afterward, I went up to him and I said, you know, I wonder... do you think that if our society were less binary in its understanding of gender, that people might be less likely to feel that their bodies are wrong? And he went to get a drink of water before he's coming back to talk to me about that. But before he left the table, he said, yeah, the shame is pretty intense. And that struck me like a bolt of lightning. The shame is pretty intense. I'm a cisgender female.

[14:11]

I was identified female at birth. I've always identified as female. But in my 20s, I started developing facial hair, a little mustache and a goatee. And I remember standing in line waiting to buy a donut and a guy in the line behind me shouting, Ew, gross, a chick with a mustache. So I could relate a little bit to that feeling of shame. And I felt that there was something wrong with me. So I went to a doctor who said, yes, there's something wrong with you, and gave me a steroid medication that nearly killed me. I was actually living here at the time, and it shut down my adrenal glands and eliminated my body's ability to produce cortisol. which is a major regulatory hormone. I very nearly died. And after that experience, my doctor said, you know, you were misdiagnosed.

[15:16]

And if you're concerned about your hair, I suggest either that you see an electrologist to remove it or that you see a therapist to come to terms with how your body is. So... When I... When I became a chaplain, when I went to, well, let me back up a little bit. I went to Tassajara for a few days in 1996 and sat Tongario, which is five days of nonstop sitting, pretty much nonstop sitting, and got very quiet and decided in that time to explore the possibility of ordination. And so I went to seminary, decided to go to seminary. And during that time, my best friend from college, or high school, who was a gay man, died.

[16:19]

He had attempted suicide when we were in high school. I had intervened. And later, he... developed and then kicked a meth addiction, but he intentionally exposed himself to HIV and then drank himself to death at the age of 33. His mother had rejected him, and he suffered greatly because of that. And that was the first death that I was ever part of, dying process. And that experience and the aftermath of that experience caused me to... explore the possibility of chaplaincy. So I did the clinical training necessary to become a professional chaplain. And I was actually one of the first Buddhists to do that, but I was also on a PhD track. So I went off to teach college and I did some chaplaincy on the side. But at the end of my seminary experience, I did a practice period at Tassajara and I said to the abbess, Blanche Hartman,

[17:29]

that I kind of wanted to see what my facial hair looked like in this kind of cloistered environment. But I was afraid. And she said, do what you're afraid of. So I let it grow. And I actually kind of like it. It kind of suits my face. But I made a strategic decision when I became a professor and a chaplain to remove my facial hair because I simply do not want to deal with the kind of violence that that would likely bring upon me. And I don't feel inauthentic in my body doing that. But... Let's see. But I think that dealing with that experience, dealing with my own body issues, is what helps me to understand

[18:31]

the struggle of trans people. And I wish and I pray and I urge all of us to keep working to create a world in which nobody feels that kind of shame. Nobody feels wrong and bad about who they are. As a chaplain, I taught college for about a decade, and then I came back to California in 2018, and I've been working full-time as a hospice chaplain since then. And there's a sutra that is chanted in Zen temples in Japan, not so often here, but it's part of the Lotus Sutra, and it's about

[19:33]

Avalokiteshvara, the embodiment of compassion, who is kind of all-gendered and who responds to people's suffering in whatever way they need. So there's this whole litany about, you know, if this situation is happening, Avalokiteshvara will show up and fix it, you know, and transform it by the power of compassion. the situation will be transformed. And Guan Yin shows up in whatever way is needed. And that is part of the beauty and the deep practice opportunity that I have as a chaplain, right? My job is to be myself, to know who I am, know where I stand, know what I believe, and then let it go in order to meet the person right in front of me where they are, speaking their language, meeting them on their terms and following their lead. And they, turns out, are often Avalokiteshvara to me.

[20:43]

It's a mutual process for sure. And I have certainly had people and had patients who were homophobic, said homophobic things to me. I had one guy, 104 years old, kept asking me if I was married. No, not married, two cats. Had I ever been married? No, I've never been married. Well, what's wrong with you? Is there something wrong with you? He said. Well, so I'm thinking, what do I say here? Because my job is to serve this person. So I said, well, it actually wasn't legal for me to get married until I was 50. He said, what? I said, well, if I were to get married, it would probably be to another woman. And he said, that's not natural. And I said, well, it's not typical.

[21:48]

But for some of us, it is natural. And then the conversation moved on. And he later invited me to come back and see him anytime. I had another guy with very advanced dementia looked at my short hair and said, God, your hair's really short. Anybody ever call you queer? I said, yeah, sometimes. I don't mind. And he said, I wouldn't want anybody to call me queer. And then he forgot the conversation and we moved on. So that happens sometimes. And, you know, I've had people, complain about they're trying to change our kids' genders, that sort of thing. So how do I meet that person where they are, right? And serve them where they are without denying my own integrity, right? It's a deep practice. And what I get to see also is their beauty.

[22:50]

The woman who said they're changing our children's genders was also so loving. To the caregiver who she was kind of mentoring as she was going through her own dying process. I mean, I see people's beauty and vulnerability. You know, they are me. The other is myself. Just like me, you know. It's incredible practice. I highly encourage you, if you have the opportunity, to be with dying. There's no better. training in impermanence and interdependent co-arising. There has been a lot of change here at Zen Center over the years, for which I am very glad. When I first went to my teacher, my first teacher came out, he said, it's a phase and you'll get over it, right? But over the years, Zen Center has had pride,

[23:57]

you know, marching contingents in the parade. I remember vividly Blanche Hartman sitting zazen from one end of the parade to the other, you know, and these wonderful gatherings. And we have now, queer Dharma is 14 years old. And as we've been meeting online, we've had regular visitors from Colombia and Belgium and all over the United States, Mexico, where else? Costa Rica? Yeah, it's wonderful. And so we've made a lot of difference and a lot of change, which I love. And it's so wonderful to be here to see this rainbow altar and to have so many queer friends in the room. And I'm delighted about that. And I'd like to offer just a suggestion. We have a lineage of male teachers that we

[24:58]

chant, you know, regularly. And we've now developed a lineage of women teachers that we chant regularly. And I propose that we create a lineage of queer teachers and chant that occasionally. So for just a minute, I just want to invite you to turn to somebody near you and think about Who's a queer person who has inspired you in some way or touched you in some important way? So for just a moment, turn to your neighbor, say hello, make sure you know their name. If you're online, you could put it in the chat. You can switch if you like.

[26:45]

Yes. Yeah, that's good. Okay. Can you begin to wrap it up a little bit there? Thank you. And thank you for the bell. So anybody want to shout out some names that came up to you? Yes. Shana Draka. Long May She Ring. Yes, indeed. Who else? Tova. Absolutely. Who else? Eson Dorsey. Lien Schutt. Oh, thank you. Schrader. Yay. Oh, and Grace.

[27:46]

Who else? Kay. Yes. Mm-hmm. Great. Thank you. And I also, I just want to recommend to you this wonderful book, Transcending, Trans Buddhist Voices. It's a wonderful collection and some deep dharma in here. So I want to suggest that to you. There's a whole bunch of other names. Katrina Reed, and so many others. Los Armiento. Many, many people. So thank you for that. Any come in through the chat? Oh, great. Sure. Yeah. So yeah, of the ones that came through the chat, there's a lot.

[28:48]

Okay. We have Ankyo O'Hara. Ankyo O'Hara. David Zimmerman. David Zimmerman. Daijaku and Shinshu Plant. Daijaku, Kinst, and Shinshu. Wako actually has come up here many times. Oh, thank you. Jeremy Simon, Lama Rod Owens. Lama Rod Owens. Rod Owens. George Takei. Pardon? George Takei. George Takei? Takei, yep. And yeah, that's a sampling. There's a bunch more. Thank you very much. So I want to quote my dear friend and fellow journalist, Randy Alfred, who wrote an article that's actually been reprinted in the Bay Times current issue, page 38. This was from 1981. And I think it's actually a reprint of something that, yeah, it was originally published in 1975.

[29:49]

And he says, We march because we're different. We enjoy a long history and current plenitude of great and creative women and men in many fields of human endeavor. And so we are proud. We are subject to political, economic, social, and psychological oppression. And so we are angry. And we march in numbers to show that we are strong, that we will no longer put up with being put down. I have lost jobs because I'm lesbian. I was fired from a job because I used the word dyke to refer to myself. in a private conversation with another lesbian who also identified as a dyke. We were talking about our company's diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts, and we were both fired for violating the company harassment policy by using a slur.

[30:59]

Later today, I'm going to go to the dyke march, and tomorrow I'm going to go cheer on dykes on bikes. So my academic department... I was teaching in a Catholic university, and myself, after some retirements, the person more senior to me and I were the next two in line to be the department chair. Both of us were out lesbians. Neither of us was Catholic. And each of us was a priest in our respective religious traditions, and the Archbishop of Baltimore would not have that. So my department was dismantled as part of a strategic reorganization, and that's how I got to come back to California and be a chaplain. So I don't regret that, but it was a bummer. The experience of founding the Employee Association at Wells Fargo Bank was a struggle. You know, it's not easy. But, Randy says, our diversity is our strength.

[32:06]

and it is also the essence of our gayness. We are free spirits. We accept and indeed celebrate our variety. This is our profoundest political statement. Diversity is life, and the destruction of diversity is death. So let us continue the ongoing work of making our communities more and more inclusive. And Randy says, come out into the streets on Pride Sunday and be part of that diversity. Be yourself and get high on our strength and our beauty. It is a day truly to be gay. Join the festival. Its name is life and its face is love. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center. Our Dharma talks are offered at no cost and this is made possible by the donations we receive.

[33:10]

Your financial support helps us to continue to offer the Dharma. For more information, visit sfcc.org and click giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[33:24]

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