She Said No

During a collegiate study abroad program, Sarah Jacoby was deeply inspired by visiting historical sites in Nepal and Tibet, meeting Buddhist teachers, and seeing her professors read looseleaf Tibetan manuscripts. Jacoby relates: “What I care about and what I study today is all directly related to what I encountered on that trip. In some ways, I never came back.” 

After Jacoby took refuge and received teachings over the course of several years from the eminent Nyingma master Chatral Sangye Dorje Rinpoche (1913–2015), he lent her a rare autobiography of one of his own teachers: Sera Khandro Dewai Dorje (1892–1940). Jacoby’s dissertation at the University of Virginia and first book—Love and Liberation: Autobiographical Writings of the Tibetan Buddhist Visionary Sera Khandro—both focus on the life of this prolific author and renowned female master of early-20th-century Tibet. Jacoby, now a professor of religion at Northwestern University, continues, in her writing, to foreground Tibetan women, a diverse group that is not typically featured in Buddhist canons.  

Tricycle caught up with Professor Jacoby after reading her recent open access article in the Journal of the American Academy of Religion, “She Said No: Toward a Survivor-Centered History of Vajrayana Buddhist Sexuality,” which centers on Sera Khandro’s nuanced responses to sexual solicitation by lamas and monks. In our conversation, we discuss how listening to historical critiques of sexual misconduct within Buddhist communities can help us chart a path forward into the future. 

More than in your book, your recent article emphasizes that Sera Khandro’s life can speak to contemporary Buddhists. What led to this shift? You’re right—since I wrote Love and Liberation ten years ago, many things have changed. One thing I’ve realized is that most people don’t want to read a 400-page book. More seriously, #MeToo happened, and all these sexual abuse allegations surfaced within global Vajrayana Buddhist communities. I watched with fascination and horror, as well as with a recognition that these problems have been going on for a long time; what has changed is that people are starting to talk about these matters more openly than in the past.

I’ve spent the last twenty years reading Sera Khandro’s writings—trying to understand who she was and what her lineage means today—and one thing I’ve learned is that she said no when it was inappropriate, in her eyes, to engage in sexuality in a Vajrayana context. For me, this means that there is historical precedence within the tradition for Vajrayana disciples to refuse unwanted sexual advances, even when they came from esteemed lamas. I wrote “She Said No” because I wanted to make this precedent more visible to contemporary Vajrayana practitioners.

How has historical study helped you understand this precedent? The history of sexuality in Vajrayana Buddhism is an underresearched topic, partly due to the secrecy that has surrounded this aspect of Vajrayana practice. But suffice it to say that there are Vajrayana initiations and practices that include visualized—and sometimes literally enacted—sexuality for curing illness, enhancing longevity, attaining spiritual realization, and unlocking the revelation of scriptures. Sera Khandro’s autobiographies discuss these practices at some length. 

What is not always clear to contemporary Vajrayana practitioners, especially those who live farther away from Buddhist cultural centers, is that saying no is not some type of modern Western adaptation of Vajrayana tradition: Refusal of unwanted sexual solicitation by Vajrayana gurus is found in the Tibetan-language biographies of many female practitioners, including not only those of Sera Khandro but also of Jetsun Lochen Rinpoche (1865–1951) and Mingyur Peldron (1699–1769), to name just a few.

Tibetan literature includes numerous voices, and when we’re talking about the thorny issue of sexual abuse in Vajrayana Buddhism, it’s especially important that we listen to the range of insights and life experiences recorded over the centuries. Theoretical approaches for making sense of how harm happens in religious traditions—drawn from psychology, sociology, legal studies, and so forth—are important. My contribution is to say, yes, and let’s look at the Tibetan historical record, which is full of resources for gaining a better understanding of sexuality in Vajrayana Buddhism.

Refusal of unwanted sexual solicitation by Vajrayana gurus is found in the Tibetan-language biographies of many female practitioners, including not only those of Sera Khandro but also of Jetsun Lochen Rinpoche (1865–1951) and Mingyur Peldron (1699–1769), to name just a few.

Why does Sera Khandro’s voice ring out so strongly? Sera Khandro was filled with devotion for her guru, Drime Ozer (1881–1924), and for the Buddhist teachings as a whole. Her critiques of the hypocritical and licentious behavior she saw around her are not rejections of Vajrayana Buddhism but rather calls from within the tradition to practice what one preaches, or, in other words, to align one’s behavior with one’s vows and commitments. 

Sera Khandro said no to the sexual advances of male teachers in different ways. For instance, when she is asked to be a sexual consort for a monastic hierarch—not just an everyday monk but an abbot—she refuses, saying: Why does he need to be a hypocrite? If he needs to engage in sexuality to enhance his longevity, then why doesn’t he just manifest in the world as a treasure revealer, as a noncelibate ritualist, which is, after all, what he’s actually doing? Why does he have to pretend that he is something else? Sera Khandro was not afraid to say what she meant. There is a sharpness in some lines—“Why does he need to be a hypocrite?”—and she doesn’t beat around the bush!

In contemporary Tibetan literature, I’ve also seen critique of characters who say one thing but act differently. Contemporary Tibetan literature is an exciting and vibrant domain that includes critique in Buddhist contexts. My research focuses on older genres of biographical writing, but modern Tibetan literature—including short stories, novels, and poetry—provides additional examples of Tibet’s critical tradition. I am not the first or the only scholar to point that out: Lama Jabb, for instance, has written about this in his book Oral and Literary Continuities in Modern Tibetan Literature: The Inescapable Nation. We can see Sera Khandro’s witty and insightful writing as part of this long-standing Tibetan critical tradition. 

You’ve also worked with Tibetan nuns from Larung Gar—what did you discover in conversation with them? The Tibetan Buddhist studies scholar Padma’tsho and I collaborated on an article called “Gender Equality in and on Tibetan Buddhist Nuns’ Terms.” (The article is open access, so feel free to check it out and listen to what they say.) Some Western journalists had written that Larung Gar nuns are at the feminist forefront of Tibetan Buddhism, and our article addresses whether this is how the nuns themselves understand their actions. We asked the nuns about what they’re doing and how they decided to put together the fifty-three volumes of The Dakini’s Great Dharma Treasury (Chozo Chenmo), which is the largest compilation of Buddhist texts by and about women in the Tibetan language. I am part of a cohort of scholars (along with Holly Gayley and Padma’tsho) who are planning a large-scale English translation of these volumes, so stay tuned for more exciting news about this project. 

We were struck that the Larung Gar nuns did not explain themselves using the language of liberal rights–based feminism, and yet they are invested in taking actions against the view that “men are superior and women inferior.” To support future generations of women and girls, especially those in Tibet, they have focused on collecting, compiling, and preserving texts that document the lives and teachings of historical Buddhist women as well as female Buddhist deities. The nuns reject the idea that their vision derives from foreign or secular influence but rather see what they are doing as an expression of Buddhist teachings and values. Whether or not we label their efforts as “feminist,” the more Padma’tsho and I spoke to the nuns, the more we saw that they are working to uphold the value of women today and, historically, for the sake of future generations. 

How does having a foot in two worlds—Buddhist practice and academia—inform your perspective on the sexual abuse cases that have shaken numerous Buddhist communities? Academic studies and Buddhist practice are distinct domains, but they aren’t contradictory—they both share the objective of investigating the nature of reality, fostering human flourishing, understanding causal relationships, and considering what it means to live ethically. Historical inquiry has been immensely helpful for my thinking about sexuality and Buddhism. Academia also provides tools for learning languages, as well as translating and interpreting texts. This opens up a treasury of knowledge accumulated over centuries—and even millennia in some cases—for contextualizing our present-day situations. Academic thought and dharma practice don’t always align, but for me they are mutually illuminating. 

You recently cohosted an international conference that brought academics together with survivors of sexual abuse in Buddhist communities. Could you share with Tricycle readers how this event came about and what participants felt were important ways to address this issue? Three years ago, Nancy Floy, the founder of Heartwood Center for Body Mind Spirit, and Rachel Montgomery began an online group called Connecting Survivors of Guru and Teacher Abuse. Nancy also secured a grant from the Hemera Foundation for the Heartwood-Northwestern Symposium on Sexual Violence in Buddhism: Centering Survivor’s Voices, which she hosted along with Ann Gleig, Amy Langenberg, and me, on October 25, 2024, at Northwestern University. As far as I know, this was the first conference in a university setting dedicated to the topic of Buddhism and sexual abuse. There were more than seventy people in the room, including some well-known Buddhist Studies scholars, journalists, and survivors of guru and teacher abuse within Buddhism and other religious traditions. Some of the survivors who attended no longer have any connection to Buddhism, while others continue to reside in Buddhist centers—part of the goal of that day was to make space for everyone.

The first speakers were Choela Tenzin Dadon, from Bhutan, and Karma Tashi Chodron, from Malaysia. Both Vajrayana nuns spoke from the heart about experiences within nunneries that they’ve been involved in for a long time. And that really set the tone for the entire day. The nuns showed us that it’s possible to critique abuse and imagine a more harm-free future from within the tradition. Later, Dr. Chandana Namal Rathnayake, a scholar who grew up as a monk in Sri Lanka and currently lives in the United Kingdom, shared groundbreaking research from his recently completed dissertation, “Breaking the Silence about Institutional Child Abuse in the Buddhist Monastery in Sri Lanka.” If I’m not mistaken, he is the first person to speak out about this issue, and that takes so much bravery. Everybody was floored as he spoke. Willa Blythe Baker gave a very moving talk about her experience coming forward as a survivor of sexual abuse from her Buddhist teacher, and a full panel of other survivors shared their stories. Prominent lawyer Carol Merchasin, head of Sexual Misconduct in Spiritual Communities practice at McAllister Olivarius, spoke about the benefits and challenges involved in the process of pursuing justice in the US legal system. It was powerful to witness people coming together to share their truths and hear one another across differences of race, nationality, sexuality, and religious identity. It was one of the most rewarding days of my academic career.

One of the key insights of the day was that sexual abuse is an international problem that affects women and men, as well as children, across Buddhist traditions. Many Buddhists brush this type of information under the rug, and in an effort to protect Buddhism as it moves into the future, they don’t bring up painful corruptions of power. This conference took the opposite approach by sharing information and experiences in order to raise awareness. It gave me hope that open communication about this challenging topic is possible and that it can contribute to reducing harm.

This reminds me of a passage in your article: “Critique is not necessarily an effort to burn down the house of Vajrayana Buddhism; it can also be a constructive project to reinforce its foundation for the benefit of future generations.” I wrote that sentence for some of my devout Buddhist friends, who worry that talking about sexual abuse will tarnish Buddhism. I worry that not talking about the problems that we know to exist will tarnish it more. 

I’m not burning down the house by hoping for a future in which Buddhist transmission takes place without perpetuating cycles of sexual abuse, which are especially devastating for children. If gurus’ legal cases are repeatedly making it into the New York Times, that’s not a recipe for shoring up the foundation of the Vajrayana. And I certainly don’t mean to be unilateral. Many Buddhist teachers are living this tradition through and through—their inner view and outer comportment are aligned, and they are leaders of healthy communities. But then we’ve also seen examples of people who have failed to uphold those ideals. 

Some people avoid criticism at all costs, and they have all sorts of ways to say critique is simply not appropriate in a Buddhist context. But that’s the whole point of the article “She Said No”—I’m not critiquing, actually, but showing that inside the tradition there is critique. Let’s listen.