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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN
COMPARATIVE EAST-WEST PHILOSOPHY

Buddhist Feminism
Transforming Anger against Patriarchy

Sokthan Yeng
Palgrave Studies in Comparative
East-West Philosophy

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 Sokthan Yeng

Buddhist Feminism
Transforming Anger against Patriarchy
Sokthan Yeng
Adelphi
Garden City, NY, USA

ISSN 2662-2378     ISSN 2662-2386 (electronic)

Palgrave Studies in Comparative East-West Philosophy
ISBN 978-3-030-51161-6    ISBN 978-3-030-51162-3 (eBook)
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 To my female lineage with enduring love:
My mom, Chantha, and my nieces, Maya and Cassidy
 Preface

For many in small philosophy departments, it is not always a given that our
research programs match with our teaching schedules. Developing new
article or book manuscripts often requires that we add to or stray from our
original path of research. Many times, we are asked to teach courses that
have nothing to do with our evolving areas of specialization. Most profes-
sors do some tinkering with their introductory-level syllabi in order to
address student concerns or combat the boredom of going through the
exact same reading list over and over again. I had been experimenting with
adding some philosophers that would provide a different understand-
ing of the self and challenge Western canonical thinkers, such as Plato and
Descartes, that are found in “Introduction to Philosophy.” I worked to
integrate feminist and Buddhist philosophers but in different orders.
My students seemed to take to Buddhist philosophy quite well. My
course on “Eastern Philosophy” also usually filled, so this was not so sur-
prising. I was prepared for students to resist feminist thinkers, but they
seemed much more amenable to feminist philosophers if I taught them
after Buddhism. If I taught feminist thinkers before the unit on Buddhism,
some remained hostile to feminist philosophers even after I attempted to
explain similarities between Buddhism and feminism. They had seemingly
made up their mind about feminist philosophy and teaching Buddhism
afterward could not soften them.
This pattern held over multiple semesters, though I could never figure
out why. Was it because students could see, through Buddhism, that
Anglo-European males did not have a monopoly on knowledge? Was this

vii
viii PREFACE

message somehow less threatening because it was delivered by the plain-

spoken Thich Nhat Hanh? Even when students publicly expressed their
allegiance with Descartes over Buddhist thinkers, the exchange would
largely remain jovial. Buddhism was interesting, just not for them. I would
include different feminist philosophers, but nothing seemed to matter as
much as teaching Buddhism directly before introducing them to a feminist
thinker. I was so convinced that I never taught feminism before Buddhism
again in my lower-level classes.
Perhaps I was better at teaching Buddhist philosophy but my
“Philosophy of Sex and Gender” class filled too—even after students
realized it was a course on feminist theory. In an effort to further diversify
my feminism syllabus, I wanted to add a chapter on Buddhist feminism. I
checked to see if any anthologies would list a chapter on Buddhist feminist
philosophy alongside with liberal feminism, sexual difference feminism,
black feminism, and so on. None were to be found. It was difficult to find
any book of this kind that included the thought of Asian or Asian-American
women. My book grew, too, out of the desire to understand what Buddhist
feminism might look like in dialog with feminists of other traditions with
which I was familiar through my training in Western philosophy. It was a
hole in the literature of Buddhism and feminism that I, as an Asian-­
American woman, wanted to explore and be able to teach to my students.
This book came about, in short, through my efforts to incorporate my
research interests with my teaching schedule over the course of many years
at Adelphi University.

Garden City, NY Sokthan Yeng

 Acknowledgments

I could not have published this book without the love and encouragement
of my husband, Nathan. I also want to thank my brother, Youveak, and
my dad, Steve, for all their various support over the years. Thanks to Julia
and her parents, Betty and Jim Pitcherella, who genuinely seemed inter-
ested in my ongoing philosophical projects.
My academic successes are all the more rewarding for the wonderful
friends I have made. I would like to thank Cathy Leichter and Susan
Weisser. Both tirelessly cheered me on during the long process of writing
a book and even engaged in the drudgery of reading draft chapters. I
would like to thank Dana Murillo for helping me through challenges and
sharing in my joys. I thank all those who have helped me realize this proj-
ect by making connections between my philosophical work and struggles
against patriarchy on the ground. My crew of co-conspirators against
patriarchy will go unnamed but I trust you know who you are. Academia
tends toward isolation and solitude, especially before receiving tenure.
Thanks to everyone who has made my time in New York much less lonely
and much more fun.
It is difficult to know exactly when the idea of this book was formed but
my first presentation at the intersection of Buddhism and feminism
occurred when Elizabeth Hoppe invited me to talk about the work of
Irigaray and Descartes. For that and her friendship all these years, I thank
her. Parts of this book have been previously published in an article that
appeared in the Journal of French and Francophone Philosophy. Thanks to
Scott Davidson, the editor of this journal, and the anonymous reviewers

ix
x ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

for my article, “Irigaray’s Alternative Practices of the Self.” I have also

presented many parts of this book at the Comparative and Continental
Philosophy Circle and I am indebted to Jason Wirth and Leah Kalmanson
for their valuable feedback at these conferences and beyond. I would like
to thank Shannon Mariotti, who invited me to present my work on
Buddhism and feminism at the Western Political Science Association and
so graciously shared her ideas with me. I owe thanks to all those who
attended my conference papers and engaged my ideas as well. I would,
lastly, like to thank Adelphi University for granting me a year’s sabbatical
so that I could work on this manuscript.
 Contents

1 Introduction  1
References  12

2 The Western Suppression of Anger 15

Anger and the Divine  16
Anger and Greco-Roman Philosophy  17
Anger and Male Subjectivity  21
Anger and Contemporary Theories  23
The Turn to Buddhism  28
References  31

3 Vulnerability, Volatility, and the No-Self 33

Non-essentialist Feminism  34
Codependent Arising and Woman  35
Buddhist Women and Social Convention  38
Buddhism and the Potential for Change  40
Woman and Instability  42
Anger and the Precarious Self  44
The Transformation of Anger  47
Conclusion  49
References  51

4 Buddhism’s Essential Women 53

Women and the Proliferation of Buddhism  53

xi
xii Contents

Feminine Ethics of Care  56

Reason and Its Others  59
Mothers in Buddhism  61
Female Erasure and Resistance  63
The Practice of Mothers  68
References  70

5 Buddhism, Non-discrimination, and Inclusivity 73

The Theory of Non-discrimination in Buddhism  74
Moving Toward an Ethics of Non-discrimination  78
Black Buddhist Communities in the United States  81
Non-discrimination and Anger  84
Conclusion  88
References  90

6 Expressing Anger with Mindfulness 93

Buddhism and the Place of Politics  94
Postcolonial Selves  97
Unique Particularity 102
From Postcoloniality to the Present 106
Training Anger 108
Buddhist Feminist Possibilities 110
Supporting Anger with Mindfulness 113
References 115

7 The Legacy of Elder Buddhist Nuns117

The Arrival of Buddhism in the United States 118
Liberal Feminism 122
The Elder Buddhist Nuns and Sexuality 124
Anger: A Middle Path for Women 129
The Mad and the Possessed 133
Conclusion 138
References 139

8 Outlines of Buddhist Feminism and a Feminist Sangha143

References 147

Index149
 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Buddhism has a history of adapting to cultures where it takes root and has
subsequently developed in diverse ways. It should not be surprising, there-
fore, that a version of Buddhism would arise in conjunction with feminist
philosophies. No articulation of a method or lens to ground Buddhist
feminism as an identifiable subset of feminist or Buddhist philosophy,
however, exists. Perhaps the constitution and tenets of both Buddhism
and feminism defy projects that search for conceptual unity or systematic
practices, which are hallmarks of Western philosophical thought. The
major schools of Buddhism, Theravada and Mahayana, reveal practical and
philosophical divides. Further splintering of Mahayana Buddhism into
Zen, Pure Land, and Tantric models adds to the multiplicity of Buddhism.
Feminism, too, is far from a monolithic discipline—though the critique
that white bourgeois women dominate feminist philosophy endures. Even
among the dominant cast of Anglo-European women, scholars can distin-
guish strategic and philosophical differences between liberal feminists,
radical feminists, and sexual difference feminists. By adding their voices,
black and Latina women have further diversified and enriched the field.
Though growing, the list of feminists who invoke Buddhist philosophy
and practices is relatively short.
Scholarship on Buddhism and feminism tends to fall into two camps.
Either scholars gauge the compatibility of the philosophies, which does
not always result in a match. Or they employ specific Buddhist ideas in
order to enhance particular feminist principles. Anthologies developed

© The Author(s) 2020 1

S. Yeng, Buddhist Feminism, Palgrave Studies in Comparative
East-West Philosophy,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-51162-3_1
2 S. YENG

through sociological and anthropological approaches are also on hand.

They tend, however, to compile life lessons that arise from the experience
of Buddhist women rather than work to create a philosophical foundation
for Buddhist feminism.
Despite the complexities of both Buddhism and feminism, efforts to
define a Buddhist feminist philosophy may not be an exercise in futility.
Scholars largely acknowledge the plurality within their discipline, but they
also seek out certain unifying features that allow for discussions about
Buddhist and feminist philosophies, respectively. The belief in the Four
Noble Truths (which will be discussed in a later chapter) and the commit-
ment to compassion, just to name a couple, can be found in all Buddhist
traditions. Feminists, for their part, may argue about causes and strategies
but they agree that the oppression and subjugation of women remains a
problem. Recognition of general features of each leave open, I believe, the
possibility of determining a foundation for the interdisciplinary philoso-
phy of Buddhist feminists by locating a common lens or tracking a recur-
ring theme that appears when Western feminists turn to Buddhism.
The identification of American Buddhism, for instance, serves as prece-
dence for the surfacing of particular traits from interactions between dif-
ferent schools of thought. Just as scholars have come to identify the
outlines of American Buddhism through patterns, one can also begin to
see patterns emerge in the ways Western feminist thinkers make use of
Buddhist ideas and practices. Indeed, there are connections between
American Buddhism and those who want to build a bridge between
Buddhist and feminist thought. Works by Sandy Boucher (1993),
Christopher Queen, and Duncan Ryuken Williams (1999) show that
political engagement, democratization, and an emphasis on meditation
practice are common features of American Buddhism. Because American
Buddhism allows for greater inclusion of women and seeks to apply
Buddhist philosophy toward political change, it shares some key goals
with feminist movements. It should not be surprising that there is overlap
between the groups. Rita Gross, who many consider a pre-eminent thinker
of Buddhist feminism, points out that women constitute a substantial seg-
ment of American Buddhist practitioners (Gross 1992, 219).
Although American Buddhist communities work to enact various polit-
ical changes, feminists within the sangha (Buddhist community) also seek
to employ Buddhist philosophy and practices in the struggle against patri-
archy in particular. Despite a turn toward greater political engagement by
Buddhists, many male gurus and leaders do not put great effort into the
 1 INTRODUCTION 3

emancipation of women. The current Dalai Lama, in response to this real-

ity, calls for more women to take positions as leaders. Having women in
leadership roles could help counteract male perspectives within Buddhist
culture and institutions. He seems also to imply that female leaders would
do more to address the oppression of women or, at the very least, current
leadership has not done enough to address patriarchy within Buddhism
(Cook 2017).
So, what have feminist leaders who also happen to be interested in
Buddhism done through their work? My search to identify patterns of
Buddhist feminism began with a curiosity about what Western feminists
found interesting and useful in Buddhism. Approaching the project in this
fashion reveals certain Western biases. For instance, many Western femi-
nists focus on the disappearance of the Buddhist nun lineage. Women in
Southeast Asia, in contrast, value “precept nuns” or mae chii. Mae chiis are
not the equivalent to a monk, as a nun would be, but they follow rules or
precepts that distinguish themselves from laywomen, such as refraining
from sexual activity. Theravada women believe this position and lifestyle
can also lead to enlightenment and are, generally, not as concerned with
obtaining an equivalent status to monks. A Buddhologist who picks up on
feminist themes in Buddhism may very well find different patterns of
thought that link Buddhism and feminism that has nothing to do with
official roles or status. Nevertheless, the use of patterns in developing
Buddhist feminism may be helpful precisely because there is not a need to
totalize such thought. Identifying patterns allows for nuance and differen-
tiation between thinkers and the acknowledgment that other paths for
creating Buddhist feminist philosophy may exist. Still, patterns can give
rise to distinguishable characteristics that would make the field more intel-
ligible to other scholars.
Patterns for Buddhist feminism, I suggest, include an emphasis on rela-
tionality, attention to the body, and the call to recognize anger. The first
two patterns can be seen in many works of feminist scholars, whether or
not they are interested in establishing a Buddhist feminist philosophy or
think such a discipline is even possible. Anne Klein (2008) and Erin
McCarthy (2010) work to explain and bolster the relational nature of the
self through feminist and Buddhist philosophy. In contrast to the autono-
mous subject that canonical Western philosophers promote, feminists
argue that the self should be thought in relation to others and the society
in which the subject develops.
4 S. YENG

The Buddhist concept of “no-self” has helped to reinforce the value of

understanding relationality in feminist thought. The privileging of rela-
tionality has allowed feminists to open a pathway to plurality as well. Many
feminists who identify as Buddhist also identify with another religious tra-
dition, allowing for a spirituality that connects cultures. Jan Willis (2008),
bell hooks (2016), and Luce Irigaray (2004, 187) feel no need to fully
embrace Buddhism or Christianity in a manner that excludes the other.
Feminists who engage with Buddhism also emphasize the practice and
meditation, rather than knowledge of sutras or scripture, as a means to
rethink the body.1 Sue Hamilton argues for a neutral understanding of the
body as a means to fight against the patriarchal strain in Theravada
Buddhism (Hamilton 2000). Often caught within a dualistic system that
inextricably links women and the body and codes them both negatively,
the move to explore Buddhist philosophy and meditation, therefore, is not
an attempt to ignore intellectual concerns but, rather, a way to provide a
more positive framing of the body.
The connection between feminists who turn to Buddhism in order to
understand anger and their attempt to address it is less visible than the
aforementioned patterns. It should go without saying, however, that the
relative silence on the part of Western philosophers surrounding anger has
not led to the extermination of anger in the world. If this strategy of dis-
counting and ignoring anger has not worked, a question remains. What is
the purpose of continuing on this path? I believe that analysis of Buddhism
and feminism together show that an avoidance of anger is an effective
means to protect the privileged subject of Western philosophy. Buddhist
dealings with anger provide an explanation for why Western philosophers
would want to circumvent such an analysis: a defense of the independent
self. A Buddhist feminist philosophy further reveals, I suggest, that the self
who gains the most cover through the refusal to discuss anger is the privi-
leged white male subject.
The second chapter is an investigation of the role of anger in the phi-
losophies of those who still have a great influence on the way contempo-
rary scholars think about anger: Aristotle and Seneca.2 Despite Aristotle’s
allowance for anger in response to injustice, his philosophy seems only to
address men as injured parties and subjects who can rightfully act with the
backing of anger. His philosophy reveals, therefore, the connection
between the discourse on anger and the privileged male subject of Western
philosophy. When a case is made for the recognition or erasure of anger, it
 1 INTRODUCTION 5

often coincides with the description of the canonical male philosopher—

rational and able to resist all ill effects of anger.
That Western philosophers focus heavily on the reactions of men in
response to anger and often gloss over women’s anger is a sign that the
female subject is of little concern to them. In other words, the erasure of
female subjectivity is implicit in gestures to vanquish anger. Accordingly,
one should take particular note of the ways that philosophers have tradi-
tionally excluded women and the anger women feel from their treatises on
the emotion. Denial of women’s anger and female subjectivity provide
feminists, of course, with only more reasons to feel aggrieved.
Feminist philosophers reveal a tension when we speak about the suffer-
ing of women under patriarchy while trying to play by the rules of philoso-
phy, which has largely unfavorable views of emotions in general and
women’s anger in particular. Because some Western philosophers may
now recognize that women have plenty about which to be angry, gestures
to deny or ignore women’s anger—rather than actual outbursts of anger
from feminists—may be the greater cause of linking feminism and anger
together. Despite clichés about angry feminists,3 it is not the case that
anger is a major theme in every feminist work or that all feminists openly
express feelings of anger. Female philosophers, who already find them-
selves at the margins of the discipline, may be reluctant to analyze and
explore anger. Because there is still a stigma attached to anger and the
recognition of it, feminists may fear that such a move will only reinforce
stereotypes about the irrational and emotional woman who is incapable of
theoretical work.
Because Western canonical philosophers often cast women in the role
of angry and overly emotional beings, there are few tools in their work to
recognize why women may justifiably be angry and few resources, for
anyone, to overcome or transform anger into something meaningful and
positive. Faced with these strictures of Western thought, there is little
wonder why feminists have looked for different treatments of anger else-
where. It is for these reasons that the treatment and transformation of
anger looms so large in this book. Indeed, many of the chapters will spe-
cifically address ways Western feminists turn to Buddhism as a means to
deal with and transmute anger.
Though the link between Buddhist feminism and anger has not received
its full due, this intersection can be found in the work of at least a few
prominent feminists who engage Buddhism in their work. Rita Gross
plainly states that she turned to Buddhism as a means to deal with the
6 S. YENG

anger she felt as a result of the struggle for women’s liberation (Gross
1992, 171). Luce Irigaray’s work, as another illustration, transforms her
work as she turns to Buddhist thought. Judith Butler and Drucilla Cornell
commend her early work for its hostile and clever subversion of Western
philosophers (Cheah and Grosz 1998). In Between East and West, where
she most fully provides her interpretation of Buddhist thought, her tone
and philosophical insights are geared more toward calm. Cultural critic,
bell hooks, openly shares her thoughts and feelings about anger and has
notably credited Buddhist philosophy for revealing insights to her about
how to address anger.4
Although grouping these thinkers together may seem random because
they belong to different feminist traditions, their affiliation with varying
schools of feminism could help us to decipher a pattern that emerges when
looking at the broader landscape of Buddhist feminist thought. I believe
that the attempt to recognize and transform anger gains greater validity as
a foundation of Buddhist feminist philosophy precisely because feminists
with distinct perspectives take it up. Thinking through anger is not simply
an attempt to further a particular feminist philosophy. The connection
between feminists who turn to Buddhism as a means to address anger
spans multiple feminist traditions.
I further aim to provide context for how these feminists deal with anger
and how these interpretations fit with both feminist and Buddhist dis-
course. I explore possible exchanges between feminism and Buddhism
that disrupt male-centered analyses of anger. The privileging of men in
Western philosophy depends on women being seen as having a lesser intel-
lect and a mind with little connection to reason. When women express
anger, it serves as a sign that women are incapable of responding with
reason. Anger, therefore, is unreachable and wholly other to reason. A
Buddhist feminist approach would allow women’s anger to be seen as a
contribution to philosophical discourse. I, therefore, investigate ways that
Buddhism and feminism together show anger to hold insights about
metaphysical theory and political philosophy.
Is Buddhism more compatible with feminism simply because its phi-
losophy, in theory, denies male identity as well as female identity? In Chap.
3, I outline the Buddhist concept of the self or “no-self” and compare it
to the idealized Western autonomous male self found in the prior chapter.
I will investigate and question why critics believe that non-essentialist con-
cepts of self, sex, and gender present roadblocks for Buddhist feminism.
This charge, it is worth noting, does little to prevent figures like Judith
 1 INTRODUCTION 7

Butler from being part of the feminist tradition. I will further show the
ways that thinkers use Foucauldian philosophy to challenge patriarchal
narratives within and concerning Buddhism, precisely by undercutting a
stable sense of self.
I build upon the connection between feminist philosophies and
Buddhism through the theme of relationality. I further suggest that
Foucauldian feminists, Judith Butler and Ladelle McWhorter, conceptual-
ize vulnerability and volatility, respectively, in a manner that resonates with
Buddhist ideas about the interconnected and ever-changing self, which
can help to bridge—rather than widen—the distance between Buddhism
and feminism. A closer look at Butler’s conceptualization of anger further
reveals a similarity to a fundamental Buddhist precept of codependent aris-
ing. Thinking Buddhism with Butler allows for a fresh perspective on
anger and disrupts the Western notion of identity that privileges the self-­
contained male. Not only does anger play a role in Butler’s analysis of
subjectivity through her understanding of precarious life but it also pres-
ents a novel interpretation of the relational self in Buddhism. Despite
some valid concerns about patriarchal traditions within Buddhism, I show
that the philosophy of inter-being and no-self are resources that allow
both the self and anger to be a site of practice and change rather than a
fixed metaphysical category.
Even though the metaphysics of Buddhism does not judge women to
be essentially inferior to men, it remains to be seen if Buddhist philosophy
can do more than exist alongside feminist philosophy. Does Buddhism, in
other words, have resources to promote a positive view of women and
female qualities? In Chap. 4, I examine various ways thinkers draw out a
feminine and feminist reading of Buddhism. Many scholars looking at
Buddhist communities around the globe suggest that women are instru-
mental in the survival and growth of Buddhist cultures. Not only have
women joined Western Buddhist communities in substantial numbers but
also traditional Buddhist communities in Southeast Asia depend upon the
contribution of women to feed mendicant monks daily and villagers dur-
ing festivals. Some thinkers argue that Buddhism is feminine because com-
passion is just as important as wisdom, if not more so. Buddhist texts and
stories often laud the compassion and feeling of love and devotion a
mother has for her only son as an ideal but not without some tension.
What benefits and dangers arise for women, considering these female-­
centered readings of Buddhism? I examine how Buddhism reinforces fem-
inine stereotypes and essentialize women and which strategies feminists
8 S. YENG

employ to play with maternity and motherhood. In what ways can a femi-
nist reading of Buddhism challenge Buddhist communities to move
beyond patriarchy and become more inclusive of women and mothers?
Although it may seem counterproductive to arrive at a feminist reading of
Buddhism by emphasizing motherhood, maternal images and storylines
are not foreign to Buddhist philosophy. The question is whether mother-
hood in Buddhism can break from patriarchal narratives that often portray
mothers as overtaken by grief or consumed with other emotions that make
them incapable of Buddhist practice and enlightenment.
In order to challenge negative depictions of mothers and motherhood,
some contemporary thinkers have turned their attention to practice.
Irigaray combines her readings of Buddhism and the feminine, which echo
a feminist ethics of care and a focus on embodiment. Carol Gilligan
famously suggested that women and girls approach ethics in a manner
distinct from men and boys. Gilligan further argues that understanding
the different process of decision-making between girls and boys requires
the recognition of what girls are taught to value through their connection
with their mothers (Gilligan 1982). In addition to the lineage of girls and
women through a feminine ethics of care, Irigaray interprets Buddhism
through meditative breathing techniques that highlight relationality and
mimics the breath of the mother (Irigaray 2002).
Dipa Ma suggests that mothers are particularly well suited to put
Buddhist philosophy to use. As traditional caretakers of children, mothers
come to understand the impermanence of the moods of children and
approach them with loving kindness. Nhat Hanh, for his part, uses mater-
nal imagery to create a space for anger and mindfulness to coexist. He
offers an innovative approach to anger and sees the arising of anger as an
opportunity for us to practice the loving kindness a mother has toward a
crying child. Despite the prevalence of maternal figures in Buddhist leg-
end and philosophy, cultural and physical spaces for women to practice
and meditate remain limited. I will, therefore, also explore ways that
Buddhist theory can be put into practice and help women integrate more
fully into the community. How can Buddhist leaders and institutions do
more to listen to the concerns of women? What can Buddhist leaders do
to help women and mothers, specifically, practice and meditate?
In Chaps. 3 and 4, I discussed, respectively, ways that Buddhism recog-
nizes a self without fixed attributes such as femaleness and ways that
women and femininity serve as models for Buddhist philosophy, perhaps
at the expense of essentializing women and reducing women to the role of
 1 INTRODUCTION 9

mothers. How can these contradictory statements operate together in

Buddhism? In Chap. 5, I analyze the Buddhist logic of non-discrimination
in order to address this philosophical conflict. I explore, in particular, con-
ventional and ultimate wisdom in relation to the place of women in
Buddhist history. I suggest that this concept is flexible enough to accom-
modate the philosophical idea that women are a site of volatility and the
cultural belief that women are different from men.
If Buddhist theory provides room for vulnerable selves and promotes
an attitude that sees connections between self and other, why is it that
Buddhist communities are not more inclusive of women from minority
groups? Why does the theory of non-discrimination not lead to greater
inclusivity in Buddhist communities? I explore these questions in relation
to bell hooks, a self-proclaimed Buddhist. Her experience and insights
about black communities in the United States help push Buddhist leaders
to confront the place of women of color in Buddhist communities. Despite
her critiques of white and black Buddhist communities, she shows that
Buddhism has tools to help disenfranchised groups. The move from the-
ory to practice, however, continues to be a problem for Buddhism. In
theory, Buddhism does not discriminate against women, people of color,
or women of color. In practice, Buddhist leaders and institutions continue
to marginalize these groups. Thus, the space for practice remains difficult
for many to access. I suggest, therefore, that Buddhists could apply the
theory of non-discrimination to issues of gender and race to become more
sensitive to concerns of minority groups.
I argue, in addition, that thinking Buddhism together with black femi-
nism allows us to build a connection between the theory of non-­
discrimination and non-domination. Although many feminists frown
upon the domination of the gendered other, the desire to extinguish and
conquer anger remains acceptable. Conventional Western and Buddhist
wisdom tells us that we should, indeed, discriminate against anger. It has
no place in our world and should be eradicated. Anger, in other words, is
the ultimate other that should be dominated no matter what. Such com-
mon attitudes lead us to dismiss feelings of anger from others or to treat
anger within ourselves as the other to be eliminated. By taking seriously
the suffering of minority and oppressed groups, there is an antidote to
discriminating against the anger of the other as meaningless. In other
words, we can develop an attitude of compassion and non-domination
toward anger.
10 S. YENG

Attempts to dominate and dismiss women of color often coincide with

attempts to dominate and dismiss anger as other to reason. Men and dom-
inant groups often oppress women and women of color, in particular, as
too quick to anger and incapable of having their anger addressed through
reason. In Chap. 6, I examine ways that postcolonial feminists have done
much to advance readings of anger that relay a different understanding of
the self and reason so as to disrupt concepts of agency. Because women are
portrayed as incapable of balancing their anger with thoughtfulness or
mindfulness, postcolonial feminists have developed different interpreta-
tions of reason as a means to build bridges between anger, knowledge, and
political action.
What, though, can Buddhism do to alleviate the suffering of the
oppressed, if Buddhists do not distinguish between the suffering of the
oppressed and the oppressors? Because Buddhism is often charged with
political quietism, I examine ways that Buddhists can engage politically
through the philosophy of non-discrimination. How can anger be freed
from the dualisms that pit personal emotions against collective liberation
and reason against unreason? I explore ways that contemporary Buddhist
understandings of anger fit within positive readings of anger and echo the
thoughts of postcolonial feminists.
I explore, too, how a Buddhist understanding of anger differs from
postcolonial feminist readings. Thich Nhat Hanh’s writings, which sug-
gest that one can envelop anger in a zone of mindfulness through medita-
tive practices, have brought to light a kindlier Buddhist interpretation of
anger. His work serves as an interesting counterbalance to postcolonial
feminists who have done more to claim their anger than other feminists
but also recognize the need to train their anger, which Buddhism offers.
Buddhist philosophy allows for a refreshing attitude toward anger but, I
suggest, the Buddhist approach to anger would benefit from greater
engagement with feminist philosophies. Postcolonial feminists point to a
lacuna in Nhat Hanh’s work. Their philosophies allow for the open expres-
sion of anger, which Nhat Hanh advises against. Joining together postco-
lonial feminist thinkers who have approached anger openly with Buddhist
meditation skills is a step forward in the process of transforming anger that
breaks from dualistic thinking that completely separates anger and
mindfulness.
Despite connections to various feminist groups and theories, a glaring
absence in this discussion remains. Indeed, many Western feminists have
argued that Buddhist feminism cannot exist if Asian women continue to
 1 INTRODUCTION 11

be silenced and if Asian Buddhist women can have no role in shaping

Buddhism. Many scholars point to the fact that the Buddhist nun lineage
had died out and argue that Buddhist feminism is an oxymoron if it is not
re-established. Other critics argue, conversely, that the elder Buddhist
nuns are no model for feminists because they demean the body and the
female form in particular. I suggest that these arguments, while important,
overlook an important message that the elder Buddhist nuns conveyed. I
turn to the Therigatha (poems of the elder Buddhist nuns), in Chap. 7, to
trace a different feminist interpretation of these Buddhist nuns. Through
their poetry, they showed that they could balance the anger they felt for
the plight of women with Buddhist practice. Nhat Hanh, in contrast, does
not explicitly articulate a connection between his reading of anger and
feminism.
I suggest that scholars are apt to miss the contribution of these early
Buddhist women due to the widespread aversion to dealing with anger. I
further suggest that the elder Buddhist nuns show that freely expressing
their anger did not prohibit them from following the path to enlighten-
ment. Although I give Nhat Hanh credit for pointing to a Buddhist treat-
ment of analysis, I argue that these women, in their own ways, also showed
that anger is not antithetical to Buddhism and enlightenment. Greater
analysis of feminist writings can also make Nhat Hanh’s reading of anger
more robust. By analyzing the ways that feminists and female imagery help
Buddhists to articulate their nuanced position on anger, I believe women
can come to have a more prominent role in Buddhist thought.
Unfortunately, the elder Buddhist nuns are not seen as part of Buddhist
philosophy and it would be anachronistic to classify them as postcolonial
feminists. Indeed, they do not fit neatly within any existing feminist tradi-
tion. Recognizing the contribution of these women to philosophical and
feminist discourses will show that they are feminist models who spoke to
the anger of women and also add to the foundation of Buddhist feminism.
A closer look at various Buddhist cultures provides many more examples
of women who have strategically used anger in their struggle against patri-
archy. Asian Buddhist women have left many traces in history and contem-
porary culture. It is the resistance to recognizing anger that obfuscates the
ways Asian Buddhist women have fought against patriarchy and worked to
transform their communities. In order to realize a more inclusive com-
munity of Buddhist feminists, we must transform our understanding of
and approach to anger.
12 S. YENG

Notes
1. This feminist method of meditation differs from the famed Cartesian model
of the West. In contrast to Descartes who used meditation to elevate the
mind over the body, feminists who turn to Buddhist meditation challenge
not only mind-body dualism but also the degradation of the body.
2. I will discuss in most detail Seneca’s work because Stoicism has an enduring
legacy as the philosophy that most repudiates anger.
3. See Gross, Buddhism After Patriarchy, 131, and Robert Thurman, Anger:
The Seven Deadly Sins (New York: Oxford University Press: 2004), 17.
4. Spread throughout her works are references to Thich Nhat Hanh and other
Buddhist thinkers. She perhaps most directly proclaims her thanks to Nhat
Hanh in thinking through anger. See bell hooks, “bell hooks, the Beats, and
Loving Blackness,” New York Times, December 10, 2015, accessed January
19, 2017, https://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/12/10/
bell-hooks-buddhism-the-beats-and-loving-blackness/?smid=tw-
share&_r=0

References
bell hooks, the Beats, and Loving Blackness. 2015. New York Times, December
10. https://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/12/10/bell-hooks-bud-
dhism-the-beats-and-loving-blackness/?smid=tw-share&_r=0. Accessed 19
January 2017.
Boucher, Sandy. 1993. Turning the Wheel: American Women Creating the New
Buddhism. New York: Beacon Press.
Cheah, Pheng, and Elizabeth Grosz. 1998. The Future of Sexual Difference: An
Interview with Judith Butler and Drucilla Cornell. Diacritics 28 (1): 19–42.
Cook, Jane. World Peace Through Compassionate Leadership: Dalai Lama to
Women. http://www.thetibetpost.com/en/news/international/5417-world-
peace-through-compassionate-leadership-dalai-lama-to-women. Last modified
23 February 2017.
Gilligan, Carol. 1982. In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory on Women’s
Development. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Gross, Rita. 1992. Buddhism After Patriarchy: A Feminist History, Analysis, and
Reconstruction of Buddhism. Albany: SUNY Press.
Hamilton, Sue. 2000. Early Buddhism: A New Approach: The I of the Beholder.
New York: Routledge.
hooks, bell. Toward a Worldwide Culture of Love. http://www.lionsroar.com/
toward-a-worldwide-culture-of-love/. Last modified 22 March 2016.
Irigaray, Luce. 2002. The Way of Breath. In Between East and West, trans. Stephen
Pluhacek. New York: Columbia University Press.
 1 INTRODUCTION 13

———, ed. 2004. Luce Irigaray: Key Writings. New York: Bloomsbury.
Klein, Anne. 2008. Meeting the Great Bliss Queen: Buddhists, Feminists, and the Art
of the Self. Ithaca: Snow Lion.
McCarthy, Erin. 2010. Ethics Embodied: Rethinking Selfhood Through Continental,
Japanese, and Feminist Philosophies. Lanham: Lexington Books.
Queen, Christopher, and Duncan Ryuken Williams, eds. 1999. American
Buddhism: Methods and Findings in Recent Scholarship. New York: Routledge.
Willis, Janice. 2008. Dreaming Me: Black, Baptist, and Buddhist—One Woman’s
Spiritual Journey. Somerville: Wisdom Publications.
 CHAPTER 2

The Western Suppression of Anger

Western analyses of anger usually begin with Greek and Roman writings.
Thinkers often use these texts to show that concerns of modern life, unlike
that of the Homeric epic, make the praise of anger incomprehensible. The
literary device that praises the Greek hero through his ability to conjure
divine wrath on the battlefield would seem quaint and out of place today.
Philosophers note, instead, that Greco-Roman thought operates as a
bridge to modern morality and away from the valorization of anger. The
rise of both Christianity and secularism, as divergent roots from Stoicism,
makes the link to a divine anger seem like something that belongs in
the past.
The ideal subject of the Greco-Romans, which endures, taps into divine
logos rather than wrath. While this thematic may seem less male-centered
than those that pivot on the warrior, some feminists argue that such a
framing does little to dislodge the privileged male subject that is at the
center of Western thought. Dignity and recognition still depend on van-
quishing the enemy, but, now, the enemy is emotional sentiment in gen-
eral and anger in particular. Philosophers, who cast women as the
passionate and irrational sex, can use this schema to exclude women from
both the divine and human realm. Men become more akin to the divine
and women, animals—as the latter both lack reason.
Just as philosophers elevate the prestige of men by connecting male
subjectivity to divine logos, they work similarly to link women to anger as
a means to diminish the status of women. What claims could a woman

© The Author(s) 2020 15

S. Yeng, Buddhist Feminism, Palgrave Studies in Comparative
East-West Philosophy,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-51162-3_2
16 S. YENG

have to subjectivity or recognition if philosophers tend to portray her as

inherently inscrutable? Structuring the nature of Woman in this manner
renders it difficult for women’s resistance or objections to register as any-
thing more than sound and fury. She seems, like particular religious senti-
ment that venerates anger, to be without place.
In an attempt to change the calculus of this narrative, some feminists
have sought to show the philosophical value of emotions and passions. A
few feminists have even challenged traditional readings of anger as a means
to show the importance of women. Given the link between Stoic interpre-
tations of anger and Christian morality, feminists have found it more help-
ful to couple their rendition of anger with a different religious tradition in
order to undo the knot of female subjectivity found in the West. This
chapter culminates with an exploration of reasons feminists may turn to
Buddhist thought as an alternative. Because there are some commonalities
between Buddhist and Stoic philosophy, I seek to explain how Buddhism
diverges in its reading of anger and identity formation.

Anger and the Divine

Peter Sloterdijk (2012) and Leonard Muellner (2004) argue that Ancient
Greeks did not always disparage anger. The turn from Homer’s renderings
of anger to Greco-Roman conceptions of anger marks a reversal of sorts in
the place of anger. In the Iliad and Odyssey, heroes had a special connec-
tion to divine figures through anger. Conjuring anger was not a source of
shame but, rather, a sign of distinction that the hero had a certain kinship
with the gods.
Despite changes in religious sentiment and order from pagan life to
Christianity, the appeal of anger did not vanish immediately. Constantine
and his advisors, quite to the contrary, held fast to the image of an angry
God precisely because it allowed for continuity between Greco-Roman
and Christian life. Religious belief, therefore, did little to determine
whether one would declare anger to have some benefits or none at all.
Emperors such as Constantine emphasized instances where God used
anger to punish and correct humans. Even though portrayals overwhelm-
ingly depict Jesus as kind and gentle, the Bible also records times when he
lashed out in anger.
Robert Thurman notes, “In the Jewish Bible, the angriest person
around seems to be God himself” (Thurman 2006, 32). Indeed, the Old
Testament relays stories of a wrathful and vengeful God. Because Adam
 2 THE WESTERN SUPPRESSION OF ANGER 17

and Eve disobey Him, He curses them both. Adam will not have everlast-
ing life and men, in general, will only garner food from the earth after
great toil. Eve, and all women, will suffer pain during childbirth. Noah’s
ark, too, tells of God’s exasperation with human beings and His desire to
wipe them off the face of the earth (Thurman 2006, 32–33). These
accounts of God hardly portray a measured or temperate use of anger. Not
only is God angry but God’s anger also seems quite unrestrained.
Although Christians often describe Jesus as compassionate and kind,
there are events when even Jesus becomes angry. On one side, there are
directives from Jesus to turn the other cheek and not to be angry with
those who bring harm or injury. “They know not what they do.” Yet there
are circumstances that incur the righteousness of anger. Jesus’ anger at
those who turned God’s house into a marketplace seemed justified as an
example of spiritual anger. Jesus became angry with men who would sully
a sacred place. In other words, Jesus’ anger represents a spontaneous reac-
tion emanating from an upright heart (Pinckaers 2015, 86–87).

Anger and Greco-Roman Philosophy

Shifts in Western conceptions of anger reflect the influence of Greco-­
Roman philosophy. Instances where Jesus becomes angry recede into the
background, while common conceptions of him relay a kind and forgiving
archetype of man. Though there is some tolerance for becoming or feeling
angry in Aristotle, the ideal person still seems to be the one who does not
feel anger. The rise of Stoicism and Seneca’s philosophy, in particular,
remains a cornerstone for contemporary arguments against the show or
use of anger.
Aristotle’s examination of anger via its relation to reason continues to
be an important factor for judging the acceptability of anger. Aristotle,
considered to be a thinker who is more tolerant of anger, believes that
anger and reason can coexist. Seneca, on the other hand, suggests that
each works to conquer and stamp out the other. Contemporary thinkers
also tend to fall into these two camps. In the first, there are those who
believe that anger can be a dangerous but valid emotion. There is justifica-
tion, in other words, to be angry. In the second, there are those who argue
for the elimination of anger because they believe it is always a destructive
emotion. While I will touch upon issues of justice, I will emphasize the
ways philosophers conceive of the relationship—or lack thereof—between
anger and reason. I will also show that analyses of anger, unlike other
18 S. YENG

emotions, often give rise to a system of classifications that mimic ontologi-

cal hierarchies of Greco-Roman philosophers that place logic above feel-
ing or lived experience.
Aristotle’s analysis of the relationship between anger and reason goes
beyond pointing to the faults of the slavish. It is an extension of his exposi-
tion on reason and his temperate philosophy. Because anger can be in
touch with reason, reason can also instruct anger (Aristotle 1991,
11261a1–3). Reason not only moderates the intensity and duration of
anger, but it also works to make anger a less frequent occurrence. While
there are instances where anger is appropriate, Aristotle also makes clear
that many are too quick to anger because they do not heed the rational
part of the soul.
In accordance with his doctrine of the mean, Aristotle believes that
anger is only acceptable when it has the proper target, occurs in the right
measure, and lasts an appropriate amount of time. These caveats show that
Aristotle believes that anger and reason are not mutually exclusive. Unlike
philosophers to follow, Aristotle conceded that there are sometimes good
reasons to be angry. Those who never become angry, even in the face of
injustice or as a result of damages, could also be lacking in virtue. They are
not slaves to emotions but slaves in their cowardice to act against those
who have wronged them.
In a time of warring city-states, the slavish person is more difficult to
locate than those who exhibit unreasonable anger. He who does not
defend himself or his loved ones, however, is no more admirable than a
hotheaded person. Such a person does not understand the connection
between anger and the integrity of one’s beliefs. Through beliefs, we
understand what one understands to be important and holds to be valu-
able—whether it is a possession or person. The absence of anger in these
situations reveals either that the person did not truly value that which was
harmed or is lacking in conviction about what is important to him. Perhaps
even worse, the lack of anger can be a reflection of a certain type of stupid-
ity that does not allow the person to recognize when harm has been pur-
posefully and voluntarily done (Nussbaum 2016, 17). Despite this
unfavorable portrait of the slavish person, even Aristotle believed that
anger usually led to destruction. He believed that anger is necessarily
directed at another person, often ending in the desire for vengeance,
which would give the injured person pleasure.
Seneca built on Aristotle’s work and developed more fully his ideas on
the connection between anger and reason to dispense with anger. Seneca,
Another random document with
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again.’ She then drew back and veiled her face as her father
approached, followed by Embarek and the two prisoners.
Addressing the latter, Sheikh Shashon said, ‘At the intercession of
João, whom I take to-morrow to the Court to enter the service of our
Lord and Master, as gunsmith, your lives are spared and your fetters
shall be removed. You will be taken with João to the Sultan, and
upon His Majesty’s decision your fate will depend. I swear, however,
that if you attempt to escape, no mercy shall be shown you.’
‘Take them,’ he continued to the slave, ‘to your hut and lock them
in; but remove their fetters. Let them have food from my kitchen that
they may feel well and strong for the journey to-morrow. Put a couch
for João in the courtyard: he is my guest, free to come and go as he
pleases.’ Then turning towards Rahma, he said, smiling, ‘All this I do
to please you, my loved daughter.’
‘May God bless her!’ cried João and his companions.
Early on the following morning the Sheikh mounted a fine mule,
and the prisoners the animals prepared for them; whilst, destined as
a present to the Sultan, the famous gray mare, adorned with a
handsome headstall, was led by a slave.
Rahma appeared on the threshold, muffled in her ‘haik’; but
before João left she managed, when her father’s back was turned, to
unveil her face, and drawing from her bosom, where she had hidden
them, the silver chain and cross, pressed them to her lips: which
gesture João acknowledged by raising towards heaven the finger
upon which he wore her ring.
Sheikh Shashon despatched a courier to the Court to announce
their advent, and fearing lest some enemy in the village might
forestall him, he wrote to the Uzir that he was bringing the gunsmith
João and two other Nazarenes, prisoners, to deliver them to his Lord
and Master the Sultan, to be dealt with as His Majesty might please.
When within a few hours’ journey of the capital a Kaid of the
Sultan’s body-guard, sent expressly by His Majesty, arrived with an
order to the Sheikh to the effect that every care should be taken of
João, and to inform the latter that a house and forge, where he could
work, had already been prepared for him, and that the two other
prisoners were to be lodged for the present in the same dwelling.
The Kaid also informed the Sheikh that His Majesty commended his
conduct in having brought João safely to the Court, and that the
Sheikh was therefore regarded favourably by his Lord and Master.
On his arrival João was taken before the Sultan, who informed
him that he would be provided with ‘mona’ (provisions), and a
dwelling near the palace; that the implements of a smith and piles of
old horse-shoes were also ready, and that for every gun-barrel João
made, ten ducats would be paid him. The Sultan added, ‘If you will
become one of the Faithful, I have ordered that the garments of a
Moslem be given you.’
João thanked His Majesty and replied, ‘I accept with pleasure
your Majesty’s offer of Moorish garments to replace the tattered
clothing I now wear.’
Whilst thus accepting the Sultan’s offer, João vowed in his heart
that, though assuming the outward garb of a Mohammedan in the
hope of obtaining Rahma hereafter as his wife, he would remain
always a true Catholic, and hope for the day when he would return to
the land of his forefathers.
João was very industrious, and with the assistance only of the two
Portuguese, his fellow-prisoners—for he did not wish the Moors to
discover the secret of his art—he was enabled to manufacture a
number of barrels, even before the Sheikh left the Court.

The Sultan[44], who was interested in every kind of mechanism,

was wont to go to the forge to see João work; gave him the rank of
Kaid, and marked in many ways his satisfaction.
The Sheikh was presented with a horse, with handsome saddle
and bridle, as a mark of His Majesty’s favour, and before leaving the
Court went to see João, and told him of his own good fortune, and
expressed his satisfaction at seeing from his dress that João was
now a Moslem and an officer in high favour with the Sultan.
João shook the Sheikh warmly by the hand, bidding him farewell,
saying, ‘You know that I am indebted for my life to the intercession of
your daughter. I intend to marry and settle here. Will you grant me
the hand of your daughter?’
‘It cannot be,’ answered the Sheikh, ‘I have betrothed her to my
friend Sheikh Amar. The Sultan, now that you are in such high
favour, will bestow on you, if you petition His Majesty, some maiden
with a larger dowry than I can afford to give my daughter.’ He then
departed, leaving João very depressed.
A few days after the Sheikh had left, the Sultan visited the forge of
João and found the young smith hard at work, but looking very wan
and out of spirits. Observing this, the Sultan inquired of João
whether he was unwell, or had cause of complaint against any one
at the Court, and whether the food sent daily from the palace was
plentiful and such as he liked?
João replied that he had no complaint to make against any one,
but that he had a sorrow at heart which he could not make known to
the Sultan, lest it might cause His Majesty’s displeasure.
 ‘Speak,’ said the Sultan; ‘have no fear. Any one who may have
offended you shall be punished. Whatever you ask shall be granted:
what I promise shall be fulfilled. Speak out boldly.’
João obeyed and told the Sultan the story of his capture,
condemnation to death, and release at the intercession of the
Sheikh’s daughter.
When he had concluded his tale, His Majesty exclaimed, ‘Allah
Akbar!’ (God is great!) ‘Had the Sheikh taken your life he would have
forfeited his own. This daughter of his, the maiden who is the cause
of my having you safe here to manufacture guns for the Moslems,
shall be rewarded. What do you desire?’
Throwing himself at the Sultan’s feet João said, ‘She who saved
my life I had hoped might become my wife, but alas! I have learnt
she is betrothed to a friend of the Sheikh, an old chief of a
neighbouring village, named Sheikh Amar. This it is that makes me
miserable.’
‘Before ten days elapse,’ said the Sultan, ‘if this maiden be not
already married to Sheikh Amar, she shall be brought here by her
father and become your wife, and I will give her a dowry.’
The young smith again fell at the feet of the Sultan and expressed
his gratitude.
A Kaid was despatched with all speed to the Sheikh of Beni
M’suar, with the command that he and all his family should be
brought at once to the Court. This officer was directed however to
ascertain, before he executed this order, whether the daughter of the
Sheikh had been lately married; for in such case the Royal command
was not to be carried out.
 The officer departed on his mission and found that the wedding
had not taken place, as old Sheikh Amar had died suddenly shortly
after Sheikh Shashon had left for Fas. Father and daughter were
therefore brought to the Court, and on their arrival were given a
comfortable dwelling near the palace.
Rahma’s heart was filled with joy when she learnt that João was
in high favour with the Sultan, for she remembered his last words to
herself.
The smith hastened to salute the Sheikh. Rahma was not allowed
to enter the room, but she could see her lover through the chinks of
the door, and heard João, after saluting her father, say, ‘Is your
daughter, who saved my life, well? Is she unmarried? If so, I must
not conceal from you that I have petitioned the Sultan that she be
given me as wife. For this His Majesty has been pleased to order
you to come to the Court.’
The Sheikh, who had been in great trepidation, fearing that the
Sultan might have heard of the intention he at one time had of
putting João and the other Portuguese to death, and that His Majesty
had summoned him to the Court to punish him, was greatly relieved,
and replied,—
‘Oh my son! as your garb shows you are now one of the Faithful
and in favour with our Lord and Master, His Majesty’s commands,
whatever they may be, shall be joyfully obeyed.’
The Sultan ordered the Uzir to signify to the Sheikh his Royal
command that his daughter was forthwith to be wedded to João, and
that it was His Majesty’s intention to give her a handsome dowry.
A great feast was prepared by the officers of the Court, at which
the Sheikh attended, whilst Rahma was taken to the harem of the
Hajib (Chief Chamberlain), where the ladies had also prepared a
feast. Beautiful dresses and jewelry were sent by the Sultan to
Rahma, and a marriage contract was drawn up by public notaries,
signed by the Kadi, with a note of the dowry, one thousand ducats,
given her by the Sultan.
On the day of the wedding, the bride, ensconced in a wooden
cage, covered with silk and embroidery, was conveyed on the back
of a mule to João’s house, accompanied by musicians with pipes
and drums and a large troop of men firing guns. The cage was
removed from the back of the mule by four female slaves and
brought into the room, prepared with handsome carpets, where João
awaited her. The slaves assisted her to leave the cage and retired.
As soon as they were alone Rahma threw herself at the feet of
her husband, crying, ‘Oh beloved! God has answered our prayers.
He is merciful, and now I shall be, as long as I live, your faithful,
happy wife. But, João, I beg you to repeat that you believe in God
and the Day of Resurrection. I rejoice to see you in the garb of a
Moslem, and hope you are now really one of the Faithful.’
‘Rahma,’ he said, raising her in his arms, ‘to thee I owe my life; for
thee I shall be ready to lay it down; but I must not deceive thee! I am
not a Moslem, but a Christian, and, as such, I believe in God and the
last Day. I assumed this garb in order that I might be supposed to be
a Mohammedan, and thus be able to petition the Sultan that you
should be my wife.’
Rahma drew away from his arms, saying, ‘I cannot, I must not,
offend God by marrying a Christian.’
João replied, ‘Know you not that your prophet Mohammed
married a Christian woman? Oh loved wife! I shall be a faithful
husband, and when I tell you about my belief and religion, you will
learn that we have the same laws from God, except that we
Christians cannot marry more than one wife. Does such a law
displease you, my Rahma?’
‘Swear,’ she said, ‘that you will never divorce me, never marry
another woman.’
‘I swear,’ he replied, ‘that nought but death shall part us.’
Rahma then threw herself into João’s arms, exclaiming, ‘I am for
ever your loving wife, and shall honour and obey you!’
João and Rahma were very happy. Of an evening, when his work
was done, he taught her to read and write Portuguese, and found
her quick and intelligent in learning. He explained to her the precepts
of the Christian religion, and told her that he hoped the day might
come when he could find some excuse to leave the Moorish Court
and escape with her to Portugal.
When their first child, a girl, was born, Rahma expressed the wish
that her name should be ‘Miriam,’ or Mary, the name of the Mother of
the Saviour of all men, and that she should be brought up in the
Christian faith.
João was very industrious, and continued in high favour with the
Sultan, manufacturing many gun-barrels, upon which, besides his
own name in European characters, he engraved the Arabic word
‘Sidi’ (my Lord), to denote that they were made for the Sultan, and
such barrels are occasionally to be found at the present day.
The Moorish gunsmiths having lost, since João’s arrival at Court,
the Royal custom, took counsel together how they should contrive to
discover the Christian’s secret of forging the twisted barrels; for João
was careful to allow no Moor, except the Sultan, to enter his forge
when he was at work.
 The Portuguese was of very cleanly habits, and had his workshop
whitewashed every month, for which work Jews are usually
employed throughout Morocco. One of the smiths, disguised as a
Jew, offered himself to João to whitewash the forge. He was
engaged, and returned for the same purpose every month.
The sharp-eyed spy watched the operations, and finally learnt so
much of the process as to enable him to imitate it, and he succeeded
so well that he presented a twisted barrel to the Sultan, which His
Majesty considered to be as good as any of João’s make.
The latter was summoned to the Court and asked how it came to
pass that twisted barrels could be made by native gunsmiths. The
unfortunate João declared he had been betrayed by some spy
watching him when at work.
Other Moorish smiths also acquired the art, and, as good barrels
of twisted iron were sold at low prices in Fas, the Sultan discontinued
employing João, and ceased sending him ‘mona’ from the palace.
João, however, had laid by a considerable sum of money, and he
determined to quit the capital with his wife and try to escape to
Tangier. He therefore petitioned the Sultan to be allowed to take his
wife to visit her father, the Sheikh at Beni M’suar.
This was granted, and João bought animals to carry away such
property as he had not been able to dispose of at Fas, and set out
with Rahma and her child for the village of Tsemsalla in the Beni
M’suar mountains.
After remaining some time with his wife at the Sheikh’s house,
where they received a warm welcome, João informed his father-in-
law that he must return to his work. Leaving early one morning with
his wife and child, he proceeded to Tangier, a distance of about
fifteen miles. On arrival at the Portuguese outposts, he was
challenged by a sentry. The soldier proved to be an old comrade
who had heard that João had assumed the disguise of a Moslem,
and, recognising him, allowed him to enter the town, where he was
conducted before the Portuguese Governor, to relate his adventures
and present his wife and child.
The Governor took great interest in João, who had always borne
an excellent character. Rahma, by her husband’s desire, wore the
European dress, and as a Christian no longer veiled her face. The
Governor was much struck by her beauty and gentle manners, and
on learning from her, for she had acquired the Portuguese language,
that she was already converted to the Christian faith and desired to
be baptized by a priest, together with her little girl, he took her to his
wife and daughters, by whom Rahma was made much of. They were
lodged in the Governor’s house, and the baptism was carried out,
with great ceremony, at the Cathedral[45] of Tangier; the child was
christened Miriam.
After a sojourn of some weeks, João and his family were given a
passage in a Government vessel bound to Lisbon, with letters of
recommendation to the King and Queen, to whom their history was
related. The Royal family patronised João, and took especial interest
in pretty Rahma and her daughter as being converts from the
Mohammedan faith.
Being a clever mechanic, João obtained a lucrative employment,
and lived in ease and comfort with his wife, who bore him a large
family.
Rahma wrote to her father and described how happy she and her
husband were, and that they had escaped to the land of the
Nazarenes, as they had feared the jealous and revengeful feelings of
the smiths at the capital; for João, since the betrayal of his secret,
had no longer been shown favour by the Sultan. However, for fear of
causing sorrow to her father, she did not inform him of her
conversion to the Christian faith.
João sent the old Sheikh a beautiful gun, with his own name and
that of Sheikh Shashon engraved on the barrel in letters of gold.
 CHAPTER XIX.

FOURTH MISSION TO MARÁKESH. 1872.

In 1872 Sir John was made Minister Plenipotentiary. This mark of

confidence on the part of Her Majesty’s Government was the more
acceptable as he had recently been attacked in the English press.
The most important of these attacks appeared in the Spectator,
which however afterwards withdrew its charges unreservedly. Unjust
accusations of this nature affected him only for the moment, when
his quick and passionate spirit would fire up under
misrepresentation, for, as he writes: ‘I was lugged out of my little
corner and set on a pedestal to be pelted with dirt—now replaced by
bouquets. I am getting callous to abuse. “Fais ce que dois, advienne
que pourra.”’
In a letter dated September 27, 1872, to Sir Joseph Hooker, he
says:—

They have made me Minister Plenipotentiary, and I am to go to the Moorish

Court to present my new credentials during the winter. The Sultan is at Marákesh,
or will be there when he has ‘eaten up’ a rebel tribe or two. I do not remain
permanently; in fact, I should decline to do so, though I hope the day will come
when we shall have the British Representative resident at the fountain-head, and
thus alone can we hope that the turbid waters may begin to clear.

On March 25, 1873, Sir John, four ladies, and seven gentlemen
embarked on board H.M.S. Lively for Mazagan, en route for
Marákesh. Mazagan, which was reached the following forenoon, has
a picturesque appearance from the sea; but of itself is an
uninteresting town. The country surrounding it is flat and sandy, with
only a few palm-trees and the cupolas of scattered sanctuaries, or
saint-houses, to relieve the monotony of the scenery.
The entrance to the landing-place was by a passage through a
curious old Portuguese breakwater, repaired some years previously
by the Moorish Government at Sir John’s instigation. On landing
under the customary salute, Sir John was welcomed by the
Governor and authorities, who conducted him to the dwelling
prepared for the Mission,—a house standing on what had been,
during the occupation of Mazagan by the Portuguese in the
seventeenth century, the site of a church. Its steeple, now used as a
belvedere, is still standing.
The Sultan had sent a liberal supply of saddle and baggage
animals, and a few extra tents of handsome Moorish make, lined and
decorated within in different coloured cloths. With these were a body
of a dozen ‘fraijia,’ tent-pitchers, attached to his army. These men
proved most efficient and did their work smartly and thoroughly. They
were all, without exception, Bokhári.
The Mission left Mazagan early on the 28th. The escort consisted
of a Kaid Erha and seven officers, with some thirty troopers. ‘Kaid
Erha,’ it may be explained, means ‘the Commander of a Mill,’ as,
during campaigns in Morocco, a hand-mill for grinding corn is allotted
to every thousand men. Hence the title of Kaid Erha given to every
officer in command of a thousand. Kaid el Mia, or Kaid of a hundred,
is the next grade, corresponding to the centurion of the Romans.
Besides this escort, Sir John had with him his own faithful body-
guard of half a dozen men chosen from amongst the Suanni hunters,
men upon whom he could depend in any emergency.
There was no important departure on the journey to Marákesh
from the routine observed on entering the successive provinces. On
each occasion the ‘Bashador’ was received by the Governor or
Khalífa with an escort varying in number, according to the strength
and importance of the province, from about twenty-five to a hundred
men, who invariably indulged in a prolonged display of ‘lab el barod,’
with the inevitable concomitants of dust, noise, and delay. Each
evening too, on arrival in camp, supplies of food in the form of ‘mona’
were brought and presented with the usual formalities. The Sheikh
offered the ‘mona’ in the name of the Sultan, and Sir John always
made a little speech of thanks to the donors.
The route followed for the next two days lay in a south-west
direction, over an undulating country cultivated with wheat, barley,
beans, and maize; and men were ploughing with oxen, or sometimes
even with a camel and donkey yoked together. A little girl followed
each plough dropping ‘dra,’ or millet-seed, into the furrows. Maize is
one of the chiefs exports, since the prohibition of its exportation was
removed at the instance of Sir John in 1871. The soil was a rich,
dark, sandy loam, thickly studded with limestones: these had, in
some parts, been removed and piled up, forming rubble walls round
the crops. Fig-trees and a few palms, scattered here and there,
scarcely relieved the flatness of the landscape.
On entering the hilly country of Erhamna on April 2, two horsemen
of Dukála, with a couple of falcons, joined the cavalcade. They told
Sir John that they had received orders from the Sultan to show him
some sport; but they expressed their fear that the birds would not
strike the game, as it was the moulting season and they were not in
good feather.
A line of horsemen was formed, and, after riding half an hour, a
‘kairwan’ or stone plover was started. The falcon was thrown up, and
soon stooped but missed her quarry. The plover seemed so
paralysed by the attack that it settled in the grass, and was only
compelled with difficulty by the horsemen to rise. In the second flight
the falcon struck the plover, whose throat was cut, and the hawk was
given a few drops of blood. Another trial was made, but the hawks
seemed dull, and only came back and lighted near their masters.
The falconers therefore were dismissed with a gift and many thanks.
Thus the hopes we had entertained of finding a great bustard and
pursuing it with the falcons was not realised, as none were met with.
But, on the return of the sportsmen to the regular track, Miss A. Hay,
who had remained near Lady Hay’s litter, informed them that she
had seen several of these gigantic birds, which had crossed their
path.
Hunting with falcons is in Morocco a Royal sport, and no subject
of the Sultan, unless he be a member of the Royal family, can hunt
with them, without being especially granted the privilege. A few years
before this, the Sultan sent Sir John a gift of two falcons—and with
them a falconer, capable of catching and training others, to instruct
him in the sport. The novelty proved interesting for a time; but in
comparison with pig-sticking, coursing and shooting, it was found
wanting, and the falcons soon ceased to be more than mere pets at
the Legation.
Sir John, who was a great admirer of these birds, used to relate
the following legend and its curious verification in his own personal
experience.

There is a legend that no one of the name of Hay should kill or

injure a falcon. The tradition is founded on the following tale.
At the battle of Loncarty in 980 the Danish army was certainly
routed by the Scots. Yet, at the commencement of this battle, the
Danes had been victorious and drove the Scots before them, pell
mell, towards a narrow pass. Here three stalwart Highlanders, a
father and his two sons, had taken their stand and rallied their
fugitive countrymen. Then, placing themselves at their head, they led
them in an onslaught on the Danes, whom they routed.
Afterwards, the King of the Scots, Kenneth III, sent for the three
men, and, learning from them that they—who were farmers—had
been occupied in ploughing when they saw the Scots in retreat, and
then joined in the fray, he exclaimed, ‘Henceforward you shall be
called Garadh!’ which in Gaelic signifies bulwark or fence. Later this
name was transformed to De la Haye by members of the family who
emigrated to Normandy and, establishing themselves there, joined
the Conqueror when he came to England. Subsequently it was
modified into Hay.
King Kenneth ennobled Garadh, and offered him a grant of land of
his own selection. Garadh prayed the King to grant him whatever
land his falcon might traverse, till it alighted, if thrown off at Loncarty.
His prayer was granted. The falcon flew from Loncarty and alighted
on the Carse of Gowry—as indeed might have been expected, since
Garadh was wont to hunt with falcons and frequently fed his birds on
that height. This large property was long held by the Hay family, but
the greater part passed into other hands during the last century.
My father, who told me this legend, added a caution against ever
injuring the bird which had brought good fortune to the family, and I
bore it in mind, and never fired a shot at any falcon, until one day I
received a letter from a naturalist in England, requesting me to find
some person who would aid him in making a collection of specimens
of birds of prey, as he knew that these birds migrated northwards in
the month of March—when the wind blows from the east—passing
from Morocco, across the Straits, to the Spanish coast, and selecting
generally for the point of their departure the Marshan—a plateau
within a quarter of a mile of Tangier. From here I have seen
hundreds of birds of prey, eagles, falcons, hawks, kestrels, kites and
buzzards cross the Straits during the month of March, flying against
the east wind.
Being desirous of meeting the wishes of my friend the naturalist, I
selected a spot on the Marshan, where, in a dilapidated battery, were
three or four dismounted guns, presented by King George IV to a
former Sultan. Here, ensconced between two of the guns, I waited
the passage of the birds and shot several kites, buzzards, kestrels
and other hawks; but at first, true to my rule, spared the falcons.
It was in the days of muzzle-loaders with copper caps, and I was
not using a gun of English make.
At last, seeing a fine falcon flying towards me, I said to myself,
‘What folly to believe in such silly old-womanish nonsense as that a
Hay must not injure a falcon—I shall test the truth of the legend by
firing at one.’
The bird came towards me, I fired: the gun burst at the breech,
the right-hand nipple flew out, grazing my forehead near my right
eye, and my wrist was burnt. I threw down the gun, exclaiming,
‘Thank God I was not killed! Henceforward I am a believer.’
The falcon was only slightly wounded; some few feathers fell from
the poor bird, and it continued its flight. Had it been killed, I suppose
I should not have lived to tell this story!

Two days later, the party crossed the Beheira u el Gintsor, a

district which, twenty years ago, was uninhabited and full of gazelles,
great bustard, and other game. But the present Sultan had punished
a rebellious tribe by removing them from a rich land and quartering
them on this barren plateau. It is now full of cattle, and patches of
cultivation were to be seen here and there.
The Arabs of the district brought some greyhounds, for the
purpose of hunting hare; but the attempt at sport proved a failure.
Amongst these dogs were two of the native rough-coated breed,
which much resemble the Scotch deer-hound, or sleugh-hound.
Curiously enough, the Arabic word for greyhound (in Morocco) is
slogi or sloki—plural slak. These particular dogs were poor and
stunted in appearance, but sometimes handsome specimens are
met with. They are supposed to be endowed with great powers of
endurance.
 Next day, on ascending the hill of Jebíla, the city of Marákesh
came into view, with its numerous minarets; amongst which towered
the great mosque of the Kutubía—dwarfing all others by comparison.
Through the pass at the foot of the hills, called Birra Burub—
evidently an ancient Berber name—they entered a forest of palms
and crossed the many-arched bridge over the Tensift river. The camp
was pitched on the banks of the river, which, in the swollen torrent,
was racing past—at least a hundred yards wide—carrying with it,
now and then, palm-trees washed away by the flood.
On the 5th of April the Mission entered Marákesh, passing
through the beautiful forest of palms. Soon after leaving camp, they
were met by a body of a hundred cavalry, accompanied by Kaid Bu
Aiesh, the second Chamberlain. He brought a welcome from the
Sultan—‘and a thousand times welcome.’ He added that the troop
which accompanied him was entirely composed of ‘Kaids,’ or
officers, who were sent as a guard of honour to the British
Representative on his entry.
Entering the city by the Bab Hamár, they proceeded to the
summer palace of the Maimunía, where Sir John was received by
the Governor of the city and other officials, and conducted to a
‘kubba’ or small pavilion at the end of a long avenue in the beautiful
garden, or rather orchard, attached to the dwelling. All kinds of fruit-
trees abounded, intermingled with palms and cypresses, and
intersected by broad avenues of large olive-trees. The fragrance of
the orange and lemon-trees in full flower filled the air. The only
flowers were the large white jasmine and the scented single rose of
‘Sigelmasi’—used in making attar of roses; but both these grew in
profusion.
The ‘kubba,’ the Governor said, had been prepared as Sir John’s
bedroom. It was richly carpeted and encircled by divans. A large and
handsome brass bed stood in a recess, while an ugly deal
washstand, apparently made for the occasion, furnished with utensils
of uncouth form and colour, contrasted unfavourably with the
Moorish fittings. After the authorities had taken leave, the other
apartments were investigated and found to be ample and well
furnished in the Moorish style. The doors and ceilings, which were
decorated with arabesque work, carved and coloured, had evidently
been recently repainted. Facing the entrance to the main dwelling
was a beautiful fountain, set in the wall in a horseshoe arch of tiles
and delicate geometric tracery. In the centre of the courtyard, on to
which the rooms opened, was a large marble basin in which bubbled
another jet of water. The archways of the doors were beautifully
decorated with carved filagree work.
On the morning of the 7th, as pre-arranged, Hadj Mohammed Bu
Aiesh, the chief Usher, announced in person that the Sultan would
be prepared to receive Sir John and the members of the Mission at 9
o’clock. This official was attired in the rich dress of a Moorish
courtier. Several coloured cloth caftans, or long tunics, richly
embroidered at the edges and seams with silk, were covered by
another of white cotton with flowing sleeves, and over these was
draped the creamy woollen ‘haik,’ which marks the civilian, of which
the soft folds hung to the ground. His turban of spotless white was
rolled, fold upon fold, above his brow, forming a disk of marvellous
size round the red fez which peeped above it.
Shortly after this announcement, a procession was formed. A
double line of the irregular soldiers in their picturesque and flowing
dress of all the colours of the rainbow, led the way. They were
followed by Sir John, the chief Usher riding on his left, and two
officers of the Askar, or regulars, walking on either side of his horse.
Then came the gentlemen of the Mission, all in uniform. The gates of
the palace precincts had been closed to prevent the mob crowding
in, and were only opened to admit the cortège. In the great court, or
square, were drawn up between three and four thousand Askar, who
presented arms when the ‘Bashador’ appeared.
The scene as usual was brilliant in its barbaric pomp of led horses
handsomely caparisoned, gaily dressed attendants, many-hued
soldiery, and solemn, white-robed officials. But in curious contrast to
the gaiety of his surroundings, stood prominent an old ‘deruish[46],’
with whom no one interfered. He was dirty, ragged and decrepit,
perhaps deranged, for he gazed around with a strange wild air.
During the Sultan’s ceremonious interview with Sir John the ‘deruish’
stood, with uplifted hands, loudly blessing the ‘Prince of believers.’
Next day some of the idlers of the party visited the town.
Accompanied by an escort of fourteen men and an officer, they
made their way to the ‘Mellah’ or Jewish quarter, a horribly dirty
place. The Hebrews of Marákesh are an ugly and apparently
degraded race. To add to their unsightly appearance, the men wear
blue kerchiefs with white spots, tied over their heads and under their
chins. Two long oily curls hang on either side of their faces. Their
greasy cloaks, blue or black, are similar to those worn by the natives
of Sus, and have a curious lozenge-shaped pattern in red and yellow
woven across the back. Tradition relates that these cloaks were first
woven by Spanish captives in the sixteenth century, who worked the
Spanish colours on the back of the cloaks destined for their own use.
The Jewish women, with the exception of a very few young girls,
were no better looking than the men. But their out-door dress is
graceful and pleasing, as they envelop themselves in a large veil of
soft white cotton of native manufacture, bordered with a broad band
of silk—also white—which is arranged to fall in front. Three centuries
ago this veil, with white or coloured silk borders, was worn by the
Moslem women of Marákesh, who now wrap themselves, when they
go abroad, in the more clumsy and less becoming heavy woollen
‘haik.’
The large escort which, when the party started, had been looked
on as an absurd precaution, proved to be really necessary. Though
the people showed no incivility, the pressure of the dense crowds
that thronged after the strangers would have rendered progress
without an escort well nigh impossible.
A few days later the whole party dined at the house of the Hajib—
Sid Musa. They rode thither through the deserted streets in bright
moonlight, which enabled them to avoid the holes and pitfalls
abounding in this decaying town. Well-dressed dependants waited at
Sid Musa’s door to take their horses, and, following a man with a
lantern, they soon found themselves in a small but beautiful court,
with a fountain playing in a marble basin in the centre. Near this
stood five tea-kettles on little charcoal stoves, and as many
diminutive tables, each bearing a tray covered with a silk kerchief—
suggestive of tea. Sid Musa and a Sheríf called the Bakáli, a
favourite of the Sultan, welcomed them, and led the way into a room
furnished with two gorgeous beds, chairs, sofas, and divans covered
with brocade and satin. Handsome mirrors, draped with embroidered
silken scarves, hung round the walls, which were covered with velvet
arras embroidered in gold. These hangings, which cover the lower
portion of the walls of every respectable Moorish dwelling, and vary
in richness of material according to the wealth of the owner, appear
to be a remnant of their ancient life as nomad Arabs. The hanging
resembles the side of the tent still in use among the Moors. The
design is invariably a succession of horse-shoe arches in different
coloured materials and more or less richly embroidered. In mosques
and holy places, and in them alone, mats, often very fine, are used
for the same purpose.
After the guests had been introduced to their hosts and the usual
compliments had passed, in the course of conversation Sir John
expressed to Sid Musa his desire to visit the Atlas Mountains. With
the view of preventing the objections which are often raised by the
Moorish Government when Europeans wish to penetrate into the
more remote regions of Morocco, he observed that he was born and
bred a highlander and that he longed to be once more among
mountains. Sid Musa and the Bakáli, being both mountaineers, quite
concurred in this sentiment and promised to aid in promoting an
expedition.
Dinner was long delayed, and Sid Musa became restless till the
Sheríf informed him that the guest’s servants had been consulted
regarding the feast, and that they had advised the Moorish chef (a
coal-black slave) to reverse the usual order of a native meal; as it
had been intended that the sweet dishes should be served first and
the viands afterwards.