Venerating the symbolic woman, subjugating the human girl: On the portrayal of women in the Tantra of Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa
Venerating the symbolic woman, subjugating the human girl
On the portrayal of women in the Tantra of Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa
By Marah Rose Seremak
Leiden University, Tantric Buddhism Prof.dr. J.A. Silk
January 2026
Tantric Buddhism is often described as a tradition in which the feminine is exceptionally valued. Women are praised as the embodiments of wisdom, awakening is said to be impossible without them and sexual union between two tantric (heteronormative) partners is framed as a central ritual means to liberation. Some scholars, most notably Shaw (1994), have interpreted tantra as a fundamentally inclusive and even gynocentric spiritual path. Supposedly, women and men participate in reciprocal, mutually liberative relationships, with women even receiving additional praise and attention.
In this essay I challenge this reading through a close reading of the Tantra of Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa (CMT; c. 10th–11th century CE; Dharmachakra Translation Committee, 2016). Rather than attempting to reconstruct historical practice, which remains elusive in the Indian context, I take the text at face value and focus on its internal representations, tensions and symbolism. The guiding question of this analysis is therefore not whether tantra could be empowering for women, but how women are actually portrayed and positioned within the CMT.
I argue that while the CMT explicitly elevates the feminine and presents women as indispensable to awakening, this veneration operates largely on a symbolic level. Alongside exaltation, the text contains representations that objectify and subordinate women. The ritual partner (consort) is typically described as a (young) girl, instrumentalised for rituals that presume a male agent. Throughout, I engage with Shaw’s (1994) gynocentric reading, especially where it concerns the CMT, and with more critical historical perspectives, such as those offered by Onians (2003) and Lefebvre (2009). Instead of arguing like Shaw that worshipping women was meant to create egalitarian relations between men and women, I argue that worship and appropriation or objectification can easily go hand in hand.
Indian Tantric Buddhism
Rather than being a distinct doctrinal school, Tantric Buddhism is best described as offering ritual technologies of liberation, first developed in the context of late Indian Buddhism (c. 6th-13th century CE). The tradition is hard to describe, including as it does a “baroque and dizzying array of deities, practices and symbols” (Tribe, 2012, p.143). Doctrinally, it is grounded in Mahāyāna and Yogācāra thought, but its primary emphasis is on practical methods for attaining awakening rapidly, ideally within a single lifetime. A defining feature of tantric practice is inversion, or antinomianism, where transgressive practices are employed as a means of cultivating nondual insight. Sexual rituals are an example of this inversion of pure and impure, but other practices include eating human feces and drinking urine without feeling disgust (CMT, 4.49/50).
Tantra also includes initiation and consecration rites, emphasizing secrecy and the central authority of a guru (i.e. spiritual teacher). Rituals incorporate chanting mantras, making maṇḍalas and doing complex visualization exercises. In many rituals, identification with a deity plays a role. The body of the practitioner is revalued, as a system of channels through which energy flows, which can be “yogically manipulated” (Tribe, 2012, p.149), channeling power towards awakening. This plays a role in the sexual rituals. Related to this reevaluation of the body and sexual pleasure, is a change in the status and role of women. Practitioners take a moral pledge to never “disparage or belittle women” (Shaw, p.47). Furthermore, there is historical evidence that women were practitioners, as well as teachers (Tribe, 2012). In many ritual texts, especially yoginītantra like the CMT, women are exalted as embodiments of the perfection of wisdom (prajñāpāramitā).
The Tantra of Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa
The CMT can be dated to the tenth or eleventh century CE (Dharmachakra Translation Committee, 2016). The text survives in Nepalese manuscripts, the earliest of which are dated to 1380 (CMT, i.2). Its principal deity Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa was primarily worshipped in the Kathmandu Valley, although his cult later spread beyond South Asia, for instance to Japan, where he was known as Acala (i.5). He is a fierce protector deity. Initiation into his wisdom is described in the text. Shaw (1994) describes him as the defender of women, who “assures her that he keeps his sword and noose at the ready as he scouts for men who fail to pay homage to women [...], so he can slash the scoundrels to pieces” (p.49). I argue the CMT itself describes him as more ambiguous. In the text, Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa himself for example declares: “I am a woman and also a man, Sometimes I have a genderless form” (11.5). He abides in whatever form is helpful to beings.
The CMT focuses on, among other things, the theory and practice of sexual union that leads to the experience of the four joys (caturānandāḥ) and ultimately to liberation. For example, the secret empowerment is described, where a practitioner is initiated into a maṇḍala. The disciple presents to the guru “a girl who is young and beautiful and dear to his heart” (CMT, 3.18). He then leaves the room so the guru can sexually unite with her. The blood and semen is mixed and used to draw syllables on the returned disciple’s tongue, who should recite “Ah, pleasure” (3.19). He is made to promise secrecy and blindfolded, throws a flower on the maṇḍala, ritually establishing his personal deity for practice. Then, the guru gives a whispered explanation of the four joys and leaves the disciple, to “make love” (3.30) to his consort while imagining himself as Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa and her as his consort Hatred Vajrī.
The point of such sexual practice is explained as harnessing sexual power, uniting wisdom (the woman) and skillful means (the man) in order to gain indestructible awakening (vajrabodhi). Awakening takes place when dualistic conceptualisation, such as distinctions between pure and impure, is transcended. That helps make sense of the ‘inverted’ practices (viparīta) that are usually not recommended to Buddhists, like sex, but also e.g. eating meat and drinking wine (CMT, 6.76). Inversion is explained as: “By whatever wickedness Beings go to lower states of existence, By the very same wickedness A yogin quickly attains success” (13.5), since the aim is to “destroy poison with poison” (CMT, 13.6). This also explains for example the shocking instructions for visualisation of killing or having sex with buddhas.
While the CMT repeatedly praises women, it also contains passages that portray them as ritual objects rather than autonomous subjects or agents. Lefebvre (2009) accuses Shaw (1994) of the mistaken assumption that the portrayal of women in sacred literature, like the CMT, gives access to actual historical experience (p.251). I will attempt to avoid this mistake by focusing my account on the textual portrayal, without assuming how that translated into experience. Furthermore, I will also try to avoid looking for an ‘ideal’ version of the female tantric practitioner, as ‘true’ tantra might have it. The question I am interested in is how women are actually, not ideally, positioned in the CMT.
Veneration of the symbolic women in the CMT
The CMT pays attention to praising and worshipping women, since they have the power to grant final awakening. In one oft-cited passage, the text proclaims: “Women are heaven, women are the Dharma, And women are truly the supreme austerity. Women are the Buddha, women are the Saṅgha, Women are the Perfection of Wisdom.” (CMT, 8.13/14). In chapter ten, ‘in praise of women,’ proper behaviour towards women is described. They must be praised, given things, spoken to in nice words, never scolded, abandoned or refused a favour. In the maṇḍala ritual, the (here female) consort is worshiped with “flowers, lamps, incense, and so forth” (10.11), paid obeisance with prostrations and circumambulated, all signs of respect (Shaw, 1994, p.153).
Linked to this symbolic elevation, the consequences of disparaging women are severe. In fact, when one reviles a woman, they will be cast into “a far-off, deep hell called Terrible, Tormented forever, crying, Their bodies burned by many fires, for three eons” (6.34). And aside from this, a man can wonder: “Apart from causing his own death, Does he achieve anything by separating himself from women?” (10.16). There is no greater deception, And no greater delusion, “Than a man spending his entire youth Without bringing enjoyment to women” (1.22-23).
Why is separation from women delusion? This is because (sexual) union with a woman is the road to awakening. The CMT states that: “this world exist[s] in a twofold mode, Being of the nature of wisdom and means.” (10.33-34), with the woman representing wisdom and the man the means. Ultimately however, there is no distinction of course, only as a ritual, conventional means. In awakening, all dualities and distinctions must be transcended. So why must the woman be separately characterised as an object of praise? The CMT states that “Among all illusions, Only the illusion of a woman is praised” (10.3). Femininity is powerful and can be instrumentalised on the path to awakening, but ultimately it too is an illusion.
To bolster the case for sexual union, the CMT features a tantric rewriting of Śākyamuni’s awakening. The conventional tale, according to the CMT, is that he abandoned all his 84000 wives and harem (presumably accumulated from previous rebirths), went to meditate, refused to be distracted by Māras (personifications of obstacles to awakening) and subsequently became awakened. However, the CMT continues: “this was not so from the perspective of the absolute truth. This was not so, since it was in the female quarters, that the Buddha, Experiencing pleasure in the company of Gopā, became accomplished. only with a woman (10.27). Worthy of mention is that before this, Śākyamuni left his wife Yaśodharā and their son. That raises the question of how actual women were treated, alongside femininity being symbolically praised.
Shaw's gynocentric reading
Shaw (1994) characterises tantric relations as reciprocal, tantra being a path where men and women can become enlightened together. It is true that the sexual union is often described in reciprocal terms in the CMT. For example: “For a woman, the man is a deity; For a man, the woman is a deity. They should honor each other By uniting the vajra and the lotus” (CMT, 10.9). Also, the text sometimes affirms that the described ritual acts for male yogins also count for female yogini’s: “Just as the yogins attain accomplishment, In exactly the same way do the yoginīs” (9.16); “In the same way, a woman should worship a man [...] She should perform the worship, in reciprocity” (10.13); “One should make love with both lovers taking part”(13.22).
However, Shaw (1994) often turns this reading of reciprocity into a gynocentric interpretation of tantra, based mostly on the symbolic elevation of the feminine. For example, she states that tantra is meant to “refine the man's emotions and provide the woman with experiences useful to her pursuit of liberation” (p.179) and that “the relationship between a man and a woman is delineated as a relationship between a devotee and a deity” (p.46). How does gynocentrism combine with Shaw’s egalitarian reading? She argues for gynocentrism as a strategy for helping establish “psychological parity between men and women” (p.70), in line with the “perennial Buddhist effort to maintain an egalitarian philosophy” (p.69). Giving proportionally more esteem to women is meant to tip “the balance of esteem” (p.71) in favour of women, preventing them from being oppressed.
In her gynocentric approach, Shaw (1994) reasons that in the CMT, the woman voluntarily chooses when to bestow enlightenment on the man, who is often portrayed as her slave. Passages in the CMT that depict ritualised debasement of the male practitioner, such as those in which the female consort declares ownership over him and the man proclaims “I am your slave” (6.19), are taken by Shaw as evidence for “erotic experience from a female point of view” (p.156). About erotic experience in the CMT she further argues that the described sex positions (from 6.41 onwards) are gynocentric. Yet, this interpretation can arguably be challenged by the fact that the yogin is described as doing or arranging most of the positions, for example: “Having again made her assume the bow posture” (6.87). Considering this, I would disagree with Shaw’s assertion that the CMT “gives a clearer view of the practice from the woman's angle of vision” (p.174).
Shaw (1994) maintains that the sexual rituals are focused on female pleasure. However, she acknowledges that other scholars recognise a male gaze in the tantric texts. Her response to this is that, even if there was a ‘male gaze,’ that “does not obliterate the presence or experience of the ‘other,’ because the ‘other’ is fully present as the object of the gaze” (p.174). This is a seriously problematic argument. The woman as an object of the gaze still has a subjective experience, that much is true. But that is surely despite the objectification, not because of it.
The limits of tantric apologetics
According to Shaw (1994), the nature of tantric relations is one of cultivated responsibility and compassion, a training included in preparatory practices for eventual sexual yoga. Because of ideas of no-self, it is not possible in any way to “ignore the well-being of the single person most directly involved” (p.173), i.e. the consort. This means that “an intention to abuse or exploit someone as a deliberate part of the practice would be absurd in such a context” (p.173). If there were cases of abuse or discrimination, they betray the spirit of tantra, according to Shaw. The causes cannot be found in tantric doctrines or texts, but rather in “cultural forces, institutional factors, and social patterns that have eclipsed the original vision” (p.199).
In this vein, Shaw claims that tantric partnerships must have been voluntary. Women were “co-religionists,” rather than "’sluts,’ mere ‘means,’ ‘alien objects,’ ‘passive counterparts,’ or ‘ritual assistants’ (p.99). She makes far-reaching claims about the experience of the women: “Tantric Buddhist women's absence of fear and submissiveness is consistent with the nature of Tantric partnerships” (p.69). Absence is a big word and I believe this is a dangerous claim about the subjective experience of historical women. Onians (2003) is similarly unconvinced by Shaw’s idealised, gynocentric approach to Tantra, accusing her of being “a modern Tantric Buddhist apologist” (p.190). An apologetic stance gives any argument a pervasive onesidedness and effectively renders the tradition immune to critique.
Shaw (1994) herself explains that her explanation is different from most other scholars because she sees women as subjects (p.196). That is rather a harsh critique of those other scholars. One could assume women are subjects and precisely because of that be shocked by texts that objectify them. Shaw simply cannot read any potential for objectification, discrimination or abuse in the texts. Where consorts were exploited, that is simply not ‘true’ tantra. In this way, her ability to recognise sexist or objectifying language is tainted by a normative stance. Lefebvre (2009), in a critique of Shaw, offers an alternative:
If we approach the study of Tantric texts looking for a multitude of voices, perhaps we can finally stop looking for the ideal woman of Tantra that Shaw endeavours to locate. We may want her to exist, but this is not the way to find her. The authentic woman, like the ‘true’ form of a religious tradition, does not exist. (p.259)
One of the consequences of Shaw’s normative stance, in search of an ideal or authentic tantric woman, is that she claims that there is no negative portrayal of women in tantric texts. There is simply an “absence of explicitly negative attitudes or misogynistic condemnations of women” (p.36). Blanket statements like these are repeated in variations throughout the text. However, even if we bracket historical practice and focus only on the literature, tantric texts contain numerous passages that contradict this view. As Lefebvre argues, there is a multitude of voices speaking on the subject of women, positive and negative.
Negative stereotypes, that according to Shaw are only present in Mahāyāna texts, are also included in the CMT. For example: “all women are generally, Without compassion, fickle and irritable” (CMT, 7.19). And again later in the text, women are mentioned to be “Without modesty, fickle, impudent, Wholly in pursuit of desires — Yet they alone grant accomplishment” (10.6). Focusing on these lines gives the impression that women are fairly annoying and difficult to deal with, yet they are unfortunately necessary for ritual practice. At least, their bodies are. These bodies are also described from, what in modern terms we might call an objectifying, normative gaze. For example, the vagina is described as potentially having “defects of looseness, wrong shape, or small size”(17.22), and there is mention of magical means for removing “unwanted hair” (17.24) there and under the armpits.
More troubling still are the many spells explicitly aimed at controlling women. Spells are described to summon specifically women (“Having drawn a vulva on the ground with red chalk, one should cover the drawing with one’s left hand and recite the mantra 108 times. Whoever’s name one includes in the mantra, she will arrive” [CMT, 12.48]), to enthrall them (19.6; 19.9), make them faithful (19.13), make them naked (21.4) and make their path difficult (21.11). These passages are difficult to reconcile with any claim that tantric texts are fundamentally non-exploitative or egalitarian. Notably, such material is largely absent from Shaw’s analysis, despite its direct relevance to questions of agency and consent.
Low-caste women
The instrumental logic governing women’s ritual role becomes especially clear in passages describing how a suitable consort is to be obtained. The female consort is chosen based on availability and beauty, but can basically be done with “whatever girl one finds” (CMT, 4.47). The CMT lists diverse women as all suitable, ending the list with: “Or another woman, as available, Well-endowed with feminine beauty” (6.6). Interestingly, the list of examples include low-caste women and family members:
“The mother, and also the daughter, The younger sister, the niece, Or any other female relative, And likewise a female musician or a brahmin, A sweeper, a dancer, A washerwoman, a prostitute, A lay vow holder, and also a yoginī, Or a female kāpālika [skull-bearer]” (6.5-6.6)
Later, the goddess of the perfection of wisdom (Prajñāpāramitā) mentions an even longer list of women to be honoured, for they possess her form. Women in all realms of rebirth (incl. “female hungry ghost” [8.4]), from all castes (“from the priestly, warrior, or merchant caste, Or a peasant woman, or one of endless other groups” [8.4]) and from all trades (from butcher to sex worker). The question that this raises is: is it an example of radical inclusivity and egalitarianism or of exploitation?
Shaw (1994) criticises the dominant scholarly interpretation that low-caste women were chosen for their “social vulnerability to sexual predation” (p.60), which is taken as evidence for women being mere instruments for male ritual purposes. She argues that the inclusion is actually aimed at overcoming class prejudice, seeking “religious insight by inversion” (60). In a way, this might be true. In the CMT, the goddess Prajñāpāramitā explains that she is “found in every woman’s body” (8.21). Thus, “all women should be viewed as goddesses on all occasions” (10.7-8). There are no distinctions: “all women can cause one to attain buddhahood” (10.5). But, arguably, this equality could still be contained to their equal usefulness to the yogin’s quest for awakening.
I argue Shaw’s (1994) thesis of inversion and radical inclusivity does not exclude sexual exploitation and instrumentalisation, just as that symbolic praise does not necessarily exclude actual bad treatment. The veneration of all women is read by Shaw as carrying a liberatory message: “that Tantric wisdom should be sought from any social class, for low-caste people are no less likely than others to possess and transmit such teachings and initiations” (62). In the CMT at least, I find no evidence for this and it seems like wishful thinking.
Important to note is that Shaw (1994) conveniently omits any mention of the age of the consorts as included in the ritual texts. The CMT mentions “One should procure a girl who is older than ten years” (13.17). This young age for sexual engagement was the historical norm, not just in tantra: contemporary law books describe how girls should become outcasts if they start menstruating before they are married, seen as a waste of fertility (CMT, i.15). This certainly does not fit into Shaw’s thesis of the empowered tantric woman.
Obtaining the female consort
In complete opposition to Shaw’s (1994) gynocentric reading, Onians (2003) also stresses that while women are described in tantric texts as a necessary condition for enlightenment, they are in themselves not sufficient. The ritual and soteriological focus remains on the male, while the female partner appears as a “supporting actor” (p. 183), that is, as the consort required for his practice. Correspondingly, ritual agency aimed at female enlightenment with a male consort is scarcely discussed. The woman thus emerges primarily as a required ritual component rather than as a practitioner whose own liberation is thematised.
This instrumentalisation becomes particularly evident in discussions of how a suitable consort is to be obtained. Onians gives a bleak example, citing from the Guhyasiddhi (c. seventh century tantric text), where advice is given on how to procure suitable women: “An outcaste, sister, mother, daughter, or dyerwoman, or some other born in a despicable family are easily obtained” (GuSi 7.13-14, in Onians 2003, p.186). Antinomianism as a rationale for selecting outcast women is not emphasized. Instead, the focus lies on convenient access, rather than on any particular merits or qualities attributed to the female agent. The text goes on to provide an example of how to use disguise, deceit and infiltration in order to basically kidnap a consort: the practitioner is instructed to assume the appearance of the Śaiva deity Gaṇeśa, gain the trust of an outcaste community, and ultimately take one of their girls as a consort after initiating the group. Taken together, these passages further underscore that the woman’s ritual role is framed less in terms of agency or consent than in terms of accessibility and utility within the male practitioner’s soteriological project.
Conclusion
To conclude, original tantric texts like the Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa demonstrate a tension in the portrayal of women. On the one hand, women are symbolically elevated, as the perfection of wisdom. On the other hand, the male practitioner’s perspective is central and an instrumental, ritual use of women is highlighted. In this way, symbolic reverence coexists with objectification. The tantric woman in the CMT is primarily a conduit for his awakening. She is often described in objectifying terms, for example through bodily evaluations, magical spells for control and in descriptions of obtaining a consort, who can be as young as ten. It is a mistake made by tantric apologists like Shaw (1994) to assume that reverence of the symbolic feminine cannot coexist with a historical subjugation of actual girls.
In this essay I have not tried to make an argument about historical treatment of tantric women, but rather about how patterns of exploitation and objectification are embedded in tantric texts like the Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa. Imposing female agency onto the CMT risks distorting the text, by selectively highlighting certain passages and ignoring ones that do not fit the image of the ‘ideal tantric woman,’ who according to Shaw can only be understood as an equal, revered partner to awakening. While this equal female agent is a worthy ideal, when forced onto historical texts it functions less as a safeguard against sexism and more as a problematic erasure of evidence for its existence.
References
Dharmachakra Translation Committee (2016). The Tantra of Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa [CMT] (Toh 431). 84000: Translating the Words of the Buddha. Retrieved December 12, 2025, from https://84000.co/translation/toh431
Lefebvre, D. (2009). The challenge of defining a woman’s Tantric history. Studies in Religion, 38(2), 247–262. https://doi.org/10.1177/000842980903800203
Onians, I. (2003). Tantric Buddhist apologetics, or antinomianism as a norm (Doctoral dissertation, University of Oxford).
Shaw, M. (1994). Passionate Enlightenment: Women in Tantric Buddhism. Princeton University Press.
Tribe, A. (2012). Mantranaya/vajrayāna – tantric Buddhism in India. In P. Williams, A. Tribe, & A. Wynne (Eds.), Buddhist thought: A complete introduction to the Indian tradition (2nd ed., pp. 143–185). Routledge.
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