top of page
Search
  • Felix Oh

talking about God, repression, love and colonialism

[The following is an interview with a 21-year-old former-Catholic who has recently found Buddhism. This interview has been edited for space.]

[The following is an interview with a 21-year-old former- Catholic who has recently found Buddhism. We talked about God, repression, love, and colonialism.]

Me: What was it like growing up Catholic?

Her: Well, I was born in the Philippines, where religion is embedded in the daily aspects of the culture, so I guess this is cliche, I don't think this is typical of Catholicism, but religion is sort of something being forced upon you, do you get what I mean? Or ingrained upon you.

Me: Were individuals imposing Catholicism on you, or that it was such the norm where you were growing up that there wasn’t another option?

Her: it was the norm, there was no other option, at least that’s how it felt like for me growing up in that environment. Like, I felt a sense of shame or guilt if my actions or thoughts went against that doctrine.

Me: Yeah, that is something people talk about a lot when they talk about Catholiscm. The sense of shame and guilt. Was that really present in your experience?

Her: Yeah, I think it was. Especially when it comes to sexuality or gender.

Me: Could you elaborate on that?

Her: I think, the Philippines, or Asia in general, is a lot more traditional in how they view gender than how they do in the West. I think being born in the philippines, part. as a girl, I was taught that female sexuality either does not exist, or if it does exist, it shouldn’t be expressed, it should be contained and controlled.

Me: Do you think that affects your view of yourself as a woman now?

Her: I think it does. Like, the way I view sex still is something I would have to do in a monogamous setting. Your value of yourself as a woman is really tied to your expression of chastity.

Me: I definitely feel like, as someone raised in a Western setting, that were contradictory messages about sexuality. Like you get things---I get things from my more conservative background that chastity and modesty--not in those words--was part of what gave you your value as a girl. But I also think the mass media gave me the idea that sexual availability and being sexy and attractive was what makes women valuable, and it’s these two contradictory demands being placed on girls.

Her: Like on one hand, this image of chastity and purity, and on the other hand, but on the other hand your power comes from your ability to flaunt your sexuality. My first expression of sexuality was...like...there was still a sense of shame and guilt that was attached to it. Even the concept of virginity, as like, your biggest value.

Me: I think that even carries on into western concepts...like it certainly feels like virgins and really young women are hyper-valued and it’s kind of a weird situation that we have as young women. Like, I have this coin, this barely-legal coin. Should I spend it? What does it say about me if I spend it? What does it say about me if I don’t spend it? I think about it a lot.

Her: When I talk to my friends that come from similar backgrounds, countries that have very traditional values...there’s always a conversation I have with my friends who have lost their virginities that you still carry that shame, and that guilt with you. Like, the moment that you decide...even the idea that you give it away to someone. Do you know what I mean? Like, is it something that you give away? There’s no real difference before you lose it and after. It’s weird that you’re taught that something like that is something you give away to someone else, right?

Me: I’ve definitely heard that expressed before, but for the first time I’m thinking about what a weird concept that is metaphysically. Like, you can give a characteristic about yourself to someone? It’s pretty bizarre.

Her: But you’re also told that it’s something that belongs to you. Or, let me rephrase that. The ownership of your own sexuality is externally dictated.

Me: Externally dictated in the sense that female sexuality is characterized by men, and not the woman’s internal emotions and thoughts?

Her: Yeah, my experience is feeling guilt and shame for having thoughts. [Long pause.] It’s very ego-based. Not ego-based in how you perceive or construct your own identity, but ego based in fear of the way someone else perceives you and your value as a person. Sort of, like…in abrahaimic religions...like, certain morals are not particular to their doctrine. An easy way to express it is...I think the shame you experience in circumstances like that comes from being taught to repress aspects of yourself that are basically normal. If you’re human. Growing up in a south asian country was a bit...odd, in that sense, because you’re surrounded by a completely different doctrine of thought that’s tied to traditional eastern philosophy which contradicts the way people are encouraged or motivated to navigate their own flaws, as humans. It’s a bit cheesy to say...Does that make any sense?

Me: So...you were saying that the doctrine you were taught teaches people to repress their...um...natural emotions? Aspects of themselves that aren’t deviations, just normal things everyone has? Is that what you’re saying?

Her: Um...Yeah. Like, to not lie, to not cheat, you can’t beg, you can’t steal...These are things that regardless of where you grew up, with any common sense, you were thought. But they’re all things people commonly do.

Me: Yeah, I suppose it’s kind of like...I’ve been thinking about religion as a form of social control. Like, we do need to control society. We need something to motivate people to not steal. Or like, the institution of marriage clearly has its uses…[I struggle to articulate what I am thinking.] It’s interesting as society changes and stuff like that becomes more...vestigial? Does that make sense?

Her: It does make sense. [Long pause.] Unconsciously, at least, I think when I was younger, growing up as a Catholic...or just growing up in an Abrahaimic religion...it pushes you to have a very humanist view of reality.

Me: Could you talk more about that? I don’t understand. What is a humanist view of reality?

Her: As in, having a view of reality as being very human centered. The greater good of humanity, I guess. Because we’re beings that have a higher level of consciousness, an ability to compartmentalize and react and systemize the way we live, our life has more value than any other life form.

Me: How is that different from how you see the world now?

Her: Now...I think I look at religion as...by the way, I know this is recording, sorry if I’m low energy and I’m not as articulate as I usually am.

Me: Oh no, I’m loving the things you have to say.

Her: Cuz I don’t know if it makes sense.

Her: I think now I don’t think this is particular to Catholiscim anymore but I don’t...I see religion as a form of justification for the odd things about life that we can’t make sense of. Everyone knows that life is hard. I think trying to come to terms with the randomness and the chaos and the injustice and unfairness...Religion is just another way to justify that.

Me: To make sense of that, from a human lens?

Her: Yes.

Me: We spoke earlier about looking into Buddhism more, is that something you’re still interested in?

Her: Yes. I think one thing that’s different about it is...you can talk about a universal moral code. To lie, to cheat, to have pride, or lust to envy, these are things you were warned against no matter where you grew up. Do you get what I mean? I’m generalizing, but I think Buddhism (and Taoism) encourages you to look at your darker sides and get a sense of your humanity and rather than repressing it...there’s an allowance of it. Not an encouragement, but once the deed has been done, there’s no external force that punishes you...Any crime will have consequences, you reap what you sow, that’s karma, but you’re taught to be at peace with it and it doesn’t define the rest of your character. There’s no eternal judgement that you have to fear or carry with you.

Me: Does that change how you view the rest of your life?

Her: Yeah, because...I think...I don’t know if it’s the Catholiscm, but my upbringing taught me to seek forgiveness for others but you forget to seek forgiveness for yourself. Forgiveness is given to you by a higher figure or deity. Maybe I’m just not well-read or well-versed but that was my experience growing up in that environment. Whereas with Eastern philosophy, the more I read into it, my perception of forgiveness has shifted. Now I think it isn’t so ridiculous to seek forgiveness in yourself. It sounds ridiculous, can you forgive yourself? I think you can. I think forgiving yourself is something more people should do.

Me: It’s very difficult.

Her: You don’t have contentment within your own being. You’re sort of...thwarting, limiting your own potential if you don’t have forgiveness for yourself. That limits the energy you can give to others. Forgiveness for yourself is basically admitting that...that you can make mistakes, you’re not gonna be perfect. [She trails off.]

Me: When you were younger did you believe in God?

Her: I did.

Me: You sound kind of unsure.

Her: I think I did believe in God when it felt more convenient for me.

Me: What were the moments when it was convenient to believe in God?

Her: in the moments where there was a fear to admit...to phrase in a very Catholic way, your own sin or your own wrongdoing. Or moments that you just couldn't control in your life like the loss of a loved one or the loss of a friend. Some tragedy. Events you couldn’t come to terms with. Like, it was easier to believe in a higher power.

Me: Were there moments it was inconvenient to believe in God?

Her: [Very long pause.]

Me: We can skip that one.

Her: I’m just thinking about it.

Her: Definitely. When it came to moments where the fear and the guilt of the punishment you would receive. Eternity, eternal punishment...that is an inconvenience.

Me: How old were you when you first became aware of the concept of eternal punishment?

Her: [Long pause.] My first grasp of it...I could have been 7, or 8.

Me:L Do you remember what your thoughts were about eternal punishment?

Her: To be honest, I was a kid at the time, so it wouldn’t have been a very nuanced or deep thought. I just thought it didn’t make sense to me. It just naturally didn’t make sense that someone would eternally punish you for committing a small crime. I was confused by it.

Me: So you were raised with the idea that you could be eternally punished for something relatively small?

Her: Yes. But despite that I accept it because I naturally followed what the adults in my life had told me was the right way to think about things. (I put air quotations on “right way”, because what is a right way?) [Long pause.] I remember being 9 or 10, and I asked my uncle if he believed in ghosts or spirits or the paranormal, and the only way he could respond was by saying any rational or logical person, any sane person couldn't believe in those sort of things. And I was thinking in my head, what’s the difference between believing in something like that and believing in god? There’s no tangible evidence for it, you just have to put faith in the possibility. [Long pause.] But of course when I said things like out loud the natural response was that you get shut down, right? I think it’s difficult to confront things you were taught your whole life...obviously, when you’re confronted with something that shifts your perception of reality, or the validity of your reality you’re not going to respond to it in an easy way. That’s the thing that makes the most sense to you, what is most familiar. But when you’re a kid, kids just ask questions, right? Kids are naturally curious. So I think…[pause]...So growing up in that environment your imagination or your creativity as a child gets thwarted or suppressed.

Me: Were you aware of non-Abrahaimic religions as a child?

Her: Yes and no. I was aware of Buddha. During trips to other countries around Asia, I wondered why their gods were different than ours. At the time I saw Buddha as a God, I didn’t understand him as a holy man representative of a belief system. So to me, that’s interesting to me now---I thought of buddha as a God as a kid because I figured that any figure---any statue of a man greater than yourself is something to be worshipped in a godly way.

Me: Specifically a man?

Her” Yes, and that’s an interesting thing, too. Specifically a man.

Her: But no [I wasn’t aware of non-abrahiamic religions] in that I believed in my own Christian God and there was no possibility that anyone could think a different way. And then, moving to Canada when I was 7, meeting other kids who grew up in other environments. Some secular, some Hindus, Jews, Muslims, and like...I think that completely shifted my perception of reality. Because I thought, wait a minute, my friend who is a lovely person, who isn’t Christian, will she be eternally punished?

Me: It’s a really intense concept, to be introduced to at such a young age. Eternal torture.

Her: It’s sort of embedded in the culture. For instance, in the Philippines, divorce is illegal. The way we view sexuality and contraception isn’t secular. There’s not as much separation between the church and the state. [Hell] is sort of a heavy subject to impose on children.

Me: Definitely.

Her: But you don’t realize that!

Her: My early experiences of grasping away from that thought was when I asked parents or other figures in my life, “Oh, is Alice going to hell because she grew up Buddhist? Because she wasn’t baptized?” Because apparently if you don’t get baptized as a kid there’s consequences to it. And adults don’t know how to respond to that. If a kid asked me that now, I couldn’t respond to it. A logical, rational, or base response from the older figures in your life...you’re met with confusion...It is a heavy concept to grow up with.

Her: Even the concept of baptism, you’re telling a child how to define their sense of faith. I don’t think when you’re seven, or 14...I was confirmed at the age of 14, passively by choice...when you’re 7 or 14 you don’t really…[Long pause.

Me: I mean, I don’t want to talk down to 14 year olds, or pull that “ugh, your brain’s not developed enough” shit, but your view of the world is very limited at that age. And it’s valid, a 14-year-old’s view of the world is not any less valuable than mine, but it’s much narrower.

Her: There’s still a lot going on and it’s very limited. Your perception is...I mean, everyone’s perception is constantly growing and changing, but especially at that age the idea you would have to figure out yourself what to think….No, that’s something else dictating you a belief system. By chance as well, but what country, or family, you’re born into.

Me: That could apply to a lot of areas of life. Choice is like…You’re making me think about choice as a concept. Can we ever be sure we chose something? You can be more sure or less sure. But can you be sure?

Her: Good question. I don’t know what to say about that. The only thing I can say is that when I think about making choices there’s only the present and outcome...but I think...Right now my idea of choice is less about a desired outcome, less of an attachment to desire...Let’s move on, I don’t know what to say right now.

[Here we talk about Buddhism, colonialism, and identity politics.]

Me: What was the catalyst of your more recent interest in Buddhism?

Her: I think trying to rationalize, why am I the way I am right now? What factors affect the way I am? Obviously, culture, family, country, kinship...those sort of things. And also, realizing, if the Spanish hadn’t...came, maybe we would have been Buddhists. Maybe we would have been Muslims. Maybe we wouldn’t have had any religion at all.

Me: Who’s we? Your family?

Her: No, I’m talking about where I come from. We as in Filipinos. History was the catalyst in my change in thought and a shift to a more Buddhist perception and a way of making decisions. Still taking the time to understand history, and understand colonialism.

Me: I feel my whiteness as I ask you this, but do you feel like colonialism has impacted you personally?

Her: Yes. Indirectly. It does. The way I refer to it is a colonial aftermath. The residual effects stay through generations.

Me: The echoes of the past?

Her: I’m taking a module on digital poetics in the global south. This is an idea taken from my professor, one way he describes it as a haunting. There’s no better way to put it: a haunting. Does colonialism affect me? Yeah, it does. In fact, it’s sort of a web. You know, you can link it back to mass production, industry in the global south, immigration, economy...I’m sort of just throwing different topics out, but you realize how it’s a web.

Me: I guess this might be what people talk about when they say the personal is political. The reverse is true, the political is personal.

Her: You know I had a conversation with a friend recently. She was complaining about the beliefs of the people she was living with. We’ve had conversations about fashionable communism.

Me: [I laugh.]

Her: People are having difficulties navigating the politically correct climate. At least, in urban centres like London, I can’t really speak to anything else beyond that. Would the personal be political? Well, politics has just sort of become, like...Maybe it always has been, but I see it more as a fashion statement. At least where I’m living.

Me: I think about how people express different political ideas just to engage in status games.

Her: Yes...The personal is political but it’s also circumstantial. I mean, I enjoy theory, but a lot of people’s engagement with theory is circumstantial, beneficial, what’s best for you to make it out and survive. Like, your views are what makes it easier for you. Living in a city like London...especially hanging around humanities students, young urban creatives [She does not say this pejoratively.] It’s very easy to make politics fashionable.

Me: I definitely see that. I’ve been thinking about this lately...I’ll try this out on you, and see if it makes sense: I think social justice is very much like Christianity. I think the ritualistic natures to the social justice circles (which I’ve spent a lot time in) that mirror the dynamics in Christian circles. For instance, how people in leftist or SJ scenes will define themselves over small arguments or disputes. Well, I don’t necessarily want to dismiss people’s concerns as trivial, but it’s kind of like how sometimes Protestants sometimes frame themselves as opposed to Catholics due to differences that, to a secular person, do not seem like the sort of the thing you would expect people to define their tribe with. The way I’m saying that sounds more dismissive than what I mean, but… [I trail off.]

Her: I see what you mean. In a way, it’s like a cult.

Me: I worry a lot about cults!

Her: It’s all identity-based. Political correctness… I could be wrong, there is someone more qualified to tell you about this...but I’ve always seen it as a result of an identity-based perception of politics. But naturally, at first glance you can’t see things for the full picture; people thrive on generalizations, but that’s sort of the downfall of identity politics. And...Compartmentalizations and extremes…

Me: I have a half-formed thought I’d like to test out on you: I think about how people in mental health fields talk about how Western people are the first tribeless people, we’re the first atomized individuals--and there are lots of good things about being an atomized individual! But it makes us vulnerable to certain types of mental disorders that are not seen as often in non-WEIRD nations. And I wonder if identity politics, forming tribes around certain ideas...I wonder if people are more drawn to that because they are missing the strong communities and strong family structure that is more present in non-WEIRD nations. Does that make any sense? [I laugh.] [I was referencing Lost Connections by Johann Hari, and I don’t have much formal psychology education, so look it up yourself before you believe me.]

Her: ...It does make sense. Funny that you phrased it as non-WEIRD politics.

Me: I’m not sure if I believe what I just said.

Her: What I meant by fashionable politics is...virtue-signalling is an easy way to put it. People identify with an externally-based moral image.

Me: This is a personal, specific-to-me thing (or maybe it’s not! We’ll see!) I am a young white urban liberal, and I don’t disagree with most of the ideology you would expect of me. But I’m thinking about it all the time, how do I know the things I believe are true? Because I read them on Twitter? Because I was taught them in the seventh grade? And maybe this is my anxiety, but that questioning affects how I relate to people and I feel like there’s not a space to... interact with people...that’s not twinged by politics or twinged with identity.

Her: I think it’s also information overload. It’s such a visual interaction. That idea sort of came to me when I was watching an interview...Cheesy to say, but I was rewatching KIDS, and one of the actresses in it was saying something about growing up in the 90s in NY was kind of a cult of youth…And like, I’m not a techno determinist, I don’t believe technology changes human behaviour, more so it augments human behaviour...But what she was saying is there are no concrete events anymore. Information comes to us so passively through social media. And I think that does relate to fashionable politics. We use SM as an extension of ourselves, as how we present ourselves to others...But that is just another distortion of reality. [KIDS is a 1994 movie portraying teenagers in New York City engaging in drug-filled sexual hedonism.]

[Here we talk about love and the soul.]

Me: Would you say you are a spiritual person?

Her: Hm. Yeah, I would. What do you mean by spiritual?

Me: Do you believe in the soul?

Her: Yeah, I do.

Her: [Very long pause.]

Her: [To herself.] What does the soul mean?

Her: [Very long pause.]

Me: Do you wanna skip that one, or are you still thinking?

Her: I don’t know if I have time to answer that. I have to think about it. But I would say I do believe in the soul. I think every living thing has a soul.

Me: Every living thing?

Her: [Long pause.] ...Yes.

Me: Like bacteria? Like microbes?

Her: Good question. I think I view soul as energy? Does that make sense? Like...I mean it’s something I haven’t thought much about.

Me: I’m surprised to hear that.

Her:...Like...I don’t know, I just think about soul in terms of frequency and energy.

Me: [The STEM major in me was screaming.]

Her: I think the concept of faith isn’t something claimed through faith or devotion, I think it’s something you nurture. I think that’s a more Eastern perspective on the soul. [Long pause.]

Me: Well, I’m coming from a more Western, secular perspective, but the way I’ve heard soul defined is the immortal aspect to a mortal being. Is that different or similar to what you were talking about?

Her: [Long pause.] Similar. I think the soul carries on long after you’re gone. I think soul is the imprint you live behind. Not in the sense of legacy.

Me: The impact you had while you were alive?

Her: Yeah. It remains long after your physical self deteriorates.

Me: Do you believe in life after death?

Her: [Long pause.]

Me: Did you hear me?

Her: Do I believe in life after death?

Me: Yeah.

Her: I’m not sure if I believe in life after death. But I think the soul continues after death. That’s why the idea of nurturing the soul appeals to me.

Me: What does it mean to nurture the soul?

Her: It’s to make decisions that don’t harm yourself, other people, and the environment. You know, like, soul. You can have a moralistic perspective on it. The idea of losing soul, I believe in that as well.

Me: I think I recognize what you’re talking about, but it’s difficult to articulate.

Her: Nurturing soul appeals to me because...why do we have such bizarre beliefs? The myths we recreate? Maybe to make sense of the lives we are living. Everyone thinks, why is life so hard? If it’s so hard, what’s the point? THe futility of living. That dawns upon everyone. The idea of nurturing the soul helps you persist. The idea of losing soul is that you can reclaim it...That’s something I don’t know either…

Me: When was the concept of nurturing the soul introduced to you?

Her: Wasn’t really introduced to me.

Me: When did you start thinking about it?

Her: Maybe…[Long pause.] As a teenager? Family issues, politics, corruption, money. Money made me think about the soul a lot. How much would someone be willing to do for money? And I thought, the lengths people are willing to go to acquire money...and the idea of people losing their soul for something that comes and goes (money, I mean…)

Me: What are the characteristics of someone who has lost or damaged their soul?

Her: [Somewhat defensive.] I don’t think there's a characteristic. I don’t think you lose it completely, just that you haven’t maintained it for a long time…

Me: Like the soul is atrophied?

Her: No. Like, it’s simple. Something like greed or lust or envy...Falling into complete submission to those negative thoughts and energies and vibrations. When you fall into complete submission it’s easy to lose soul or not maintain it. It’s normal to feel that way, but when it unifies every action, there’s no limit to it. It’s like...desire...Or addiction...[She trails off.]

Me: [I stutter for like a solid minute trying to respond to this.]

Me: This is a more specific question. Do you think the pandemic has changed your relationship to spirituality at all?

Her: I mean, not personally, but I think the pandemic gives us more chance to contemplate these concepts.

Me: Like solitude?

Her: The lack of certainty. Being on edge because of a lack of certainty. How do you deal with that? If you have a concept of nurturing the soul, then…[She stutters.] It’s a present-based way to look at things. You were asking me things about things not to nurture the soul, it’s like obsession, a low vibration, dwelling in the past or the future. And you can ground yourself with a present-based perception.

Her: The soul is weird. It’s weird to say I thought about soul through money.

Me: I think it makes sense.

Her: Recently, my perception of soul shifted due to falling in love for the first time. If you don’t nurture the soul, you’re incapable of loving. I wrote this down, it sounds cheesy, but I wouldn’t kill my own soul or someone else’s for a million dollars because it couldn’t buy me love. I like to keep that in my mind because it’s true. Me: [Struggles to respond.] Do you ever think love can be an obstacle to the soul?

Her: No. Depends on the type of love I guess. Real love, it’s never a detriment to the soul.

Me: One thing I’ve been thinking about. Love is a powerful thing, I don’t need to tell anyone that, but it’s also not unique in any way and even the worst people in the world love other people. And like...I’m trying to formulate this...I don’t think loving other people in a personal way always leads people to ethical actions. I think it can be used against them. Like, I think nationalism, for instance, weaponizes people’s love for their children.

Her: Yes, but that’s what I mean, if love’s damaging it’s not love. Well, there’s nothing new to say about that. Consuming, obsessive love is not real love, it’s an obsession. An obsession is damaging to the soul. [Long pause.] Well, there's unconditional love, which people argue about whether that’s real or not, we view everything in terms of conditions….[She trails off.]

Me: Yeah, we’ve disagreed about that before. But I mean, I’m 21, I’ll have interesting things to say about love when I’m 75.

Her: Real love is the thing that saves you. Nothing ever goes right when you deal with things through hate. No negative emotion has ever solved a problem. That’s what I mean by soul being...frequency...Like, a loving energy will get you closer to things than any negative emotion ever will.

Me: Is your sense of spirituality tied with love?

Her: Yeah. Not much to explain there.

Her: It’s also a personal thing, not knowing how to deal with the concept of love because of how I was raised. Where do you find it? How do you express it? What is love? I didn’t know those sorts of things. So...yeah, I think my sense of spirituality is defined by love.

Me: We were talking earlier about how the cultural milieu you grew up was repressive to sexuality. Is that what you were saying? I don’t want to misquote you.

Her: Yes.

Me: Was it repressive towards love? I’m mean, I’m not asking that about the Philippines, I’m asking about [her name]’s experience. Were you ever repressive towards love?

Her: I always felt the love that was not given to me. The love felt under conditional terms. I’m not a Christian anymore, but I think about Jesus Christ as a force of unconditional, sacrificial love. The framework that was imposed on me made me think of love in conditional terms, so I didn’t really trust it. But it’s shifted now.

Me: What was the change in your view of Jesus Christ?

Her: [Long pause.] One of admiration. Before, I had a natural resentment towards anything that reminded me of an Abrahaimic doctrine. But then I took the time to have an open mind and realize one part of that narrative I appreciate is Jesus Christ as sacrificial, compassionate, unconditional love that saves people. That’s the part I carry with me from my upbringing. The sacrifice we make in the name of love. That doesn't mean I implement in my own life, a perfect person doesn’t exist. It’s unfortunate that wasn’t the understanding of Christ that was given to me. I saw love as a conditional thing.

Me: Like a debt?

Her: Yeah, like how could God love you? How could God want to punish you? If he loves me, why would I have to suffer? If you love someone, you don’t want them to suffer. That didn’t make sense of me. It took me a while to see unconditional love as real. Sure, it’s rare, who knows if it’s practical or valuable...I don’t know, I don’t really...It’s fine with me that I don’t know. I like not knowing.






Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page