Inner Peace, Outer Struggle
Leon Kennedy found that Vipassana meditation offered profound insights into the nature of racism and suffering. Sitting on his meditation mat, he confronted his thoughts and emotions, peeling back layers of his experiences. Vipassana’s introspective practice allowed him to witness his suffering without attachment, seeing it as part of a universal human experience. Through this lens, Leon recognized that racism, like all forms of oppression, stemmed from ignorance and deep-seated fears. The practice brought clarity to the pain inflicted by racism, not just as a societal issue but as a personal affliction that corroded the soul. Vipassana helped him see that those who perpetuated racism were also suffering, trapped in cycles of hatred and misunderstanding. This realization deepened his empathy, transforming his anger into a commitment to healing and education. Meditation became a tool for transcending the pain of racial injustice, fostering a sense of inner peace and resilience. Leon’s journey with Vipassana illuminated a path to confronting and dissolving the roots of racism, advocating for a world where awareness and compassion can overcome ignorance and division.
“They were shooting at my grandmother when she would go to New York and be driving through Manhattan. The KKK sniped at her! They were shooting at them, trying to kill them, and they had law enforcement backing them up.”
“Meditation made me focus on and reflect on—when you sit on that mat, it’s just you in there. And when you’re willing to go inside of yourself, and you try to watch the thoughts as they pass, not attach yourself to them [snaps], sometimes it works more than other times; however—when I would think about my forefathers, and what they had to go through, [sitting on] the mat made me look at them a little bit differently.
Because [back then] you had to hide. They couldn't, the meeting wouldn't be the same meeting that the public would see. They had to hide, because [people] they were trying to kill them! They were shooting at my grandmother when my grandmother would go to New York and be driving down in through Manhattan. The KKK sniped at her! They were shooting at them, trying to kill them, and they had law enforcement, et cetera, backing them up.
When you tried to be an activist [back then], it's not the same as you trying to be an activist now. It made me respect them more, because their lives were in imminent danger; they were standing up. I looked at some pictures the other day that I have with my grandfather and one of my aunts at a picket line. It’s the thing you see on the old documentaries, with the people in their faces, screaming at them, calling them ‘Nigger. Get out of here. You got to this amount of time to be out of my town. I don't care. I'm going to bomb you!’
I went to—you heard about the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing? That church, the church shares a parking lot with another church called—St. Paul, United Methodist Church. My grandfather used to pastor at that Church in Birmingham. There were bomb threats at that church before the 16th Street bombing. So, they had to be activists almost at a low-key level. That made me respect their bravery. Because they were imminent danger of losing life. Yeah, of being tortured [there]. And being tortured at home, and just shot or whatever. Those things still happen today, but it was a free-for-all back then. They were very courageous. When I’d be on that mat, it made me [consider]. I'd be reflecting about my experiences, because I had some experiences, too. When I went to high school, to this brand-new high school out in the suburbs, way out, it's an all-white school. I went through it, as well. So, I understood what my grandparents went through. But I couldn't make a comparison or liken it to what they did. Because they were they were in danger of losing their lives. They put their lives on the line, for the [Civil Rights] Movement.”