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Dear brothers and sisters on the Supreme Court,

Writer's picture: escapingsamsaraescapingsamsara

Updated: Jun 26, 2022

It is hard to write this letter. It is even harder to refer to you as my brothers and sisters, a term I usually reserve for people I feel camaraderie with or, at the very least, like. But, I must try to see you as such, and I hope that by the end of the letter you will think of me as a sister as well. A sister who disagrees with you, but a sister nonetheless.


I come in peace. Or, at least, I am trying to get on the path to peace, and that is why I am writing this letter. My intention is not to barrage you or insult you. My intention is singular: to let you know that we are going to suffer.


By "we," I mean my fellow women, girls, people with uteruses, and the men who love them and who contributed 50% to their situation. (I would argue that, in the case of rape, the rapists contributed 100%, but they are not the ones who are going to suffer).


My sisters with darker skin than me will suffer more than I will, and so will my low-income sisters.


Most people did not want this. Most people do not believe this is a good thing.


I know very much about the religion that was the backbone of the reversal of Roe v. Wade— I was raised in Christianity, and most of the people I love follow it. I myself, however, converted to Buddhism a few years ago.


One of the insights of Buddhism and of other Eastern religions is, as Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh called it, “interbeing”— the perception that we humans are intimately interconnected with nature, with other people, and with the universe as a whole. It seems like we’re separate from others, but the deeper reality is that there is no such thing as separation. We all spring from the same source, we are made of the same stuff, and on the deepest level of reality we are one. We are different manifestations of the same energy.


I want you to understand, my brothers and sisters on the Supreme court, that your decision is hurting so many people. And hurting other people only hurts yourself. We share this world with you— our one, fragile, precious world. We have needs and fears and desires just as you do. When something goes wrong, we need support. But you have taken away that support. You have deepened the chasm between us. Your actions have caused irreparable damage, injustice, and instability. We are scared and hurt and angry. We, your neighbors, your sisters and brothers. I worry that you do not see our suffering, or that you dismiss it. Or maybe, you weigh it on a scale— our suffering versus God’s will. And you have deemed God’s will to be more important.

But how can you be sure that you have a good understanding of what God’s will is?

Is it really so black-and-white? If so, then He must not be very loving and understanding at all— He must be a tyrant who cannot see shades of gray. I mean this with the utmost respect: if you really believe this is God’s true nature, is He really worth following? The God I knew in my childhood and the God my Christian loved ones follow seems to be very different from your God. He sees shades of gray. He was a human once, and he understands that things go wrong.


In “Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet,” Thich Nhat Hanh speaks of political divisions. He says:


“Which side does not have hatred? Which side does not have misunderstanding? We may consider ourselves righteous, walking on the right path, without blame, without hatred. And we may consider the other group as a threat to civilization or global security. More than ever, we need to use the sword of understanding to free ourselves from labels. This side labels the other side, and vice versa, in order to resist one another, or even to kill one another, in the name of God, democracy, freedom, or civilization.”


Dear brothers and sisters on the Supreme Court, please— help me understand.


I would like to invite you to take a deep look at yourselves. I invite you to honestly appraise the fear, the anger, and the suffering in your own hearts. Only deep suffering could cause such a deep misunderstanding of what the right thing to do is.


Please know that I would not ask you to do something I would not do myself. I am also looking deeply into myself. I have to be aware of my own wrong perceptions, my own feelings of my moral superiority, my own biases and judgments. I have to do these things because it will make me a better person. I cannot assume I am always right. That arrogance is dangerous.


I am interested in our civilization continuing. But how can it continue when we hate each other so much? How can it continue when we strip each other of rights, and call each other killers, and truly believe that the other side is not only wrong, but going against God’s will?


Thich Nhat Hanh says that “it takes insight and courage to throw away an idea.” Can we, all of us, take the time to examine our ideas? How do we really feel? As humans, group identity is incredibly important to us— when we belong to a group, we are accepted, we are not lonely. We will do anything to not be lonely. But is our group identity worth oppressing other people?


I do not agree with you, my brothers and sisters. I am not enlightened and I do not have access to the underlying fabric of reality. As such, it is difficult for me to fully grasp the insights that Thich Nhat Hanh expounds so beautifully. It is difficult for me to explain it to other people as well, and yet, I believe him. It is uncomfortable, but I do believe that we are the same, me and you. We want what is best for our country. We want to do the right thing. We want to please our higher power; we want to be in sync with the universe and what is Right and True. We want to create meaningful, lasting change. We want to be the orchestrators of that change.


But is a change worth making if it causes so much suffering? So much suffering, to other versions of yourself?


I am simply a person. I am not well-versed in debate, and I do not have any special qualifications to engage in this dialogue. I am just aware of the suffering. And I am scared. I appeal to you not as a representative of Buddhism, or of my profession, or even of women in general. I appeal to you as a human being, another version of you— someone who is you.


Please, brothers and sisters. Reconsider.


With hope for a better world,

Kirsten


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