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This is part of our continuing series of accounts by readers of how they shed the illusions of liberalism and became race realists.
In my childhood home of 1980s Seattle, non-white immigrants came in a hurry. Microsoft boomed with discount Indian programmers, apple orchards flourished with low-cost Hispanic laborers, and the region careened into cultural chaos. Hindu temples sprang up in historically white, suburban neighborhoods. Traditional churches, once glorious in their proud, perpetual upkeep, drooped despondently in dreary disrepair, emptied of their parishioners. Ballet halls and piano practice rooms were shuttered and quickly replaced by Indian Vedic cultural centers and sprawling Mexican markets. Defeated, many whites stole away to rural areas, hesitatingly half-smiling at the new arrivals while loading up their moving vans with an innate urge to hold on to a forbidden identity. My leftist parents, however, staunchly stayed put, gushingly greeting the eager arrivals.
Supposedly to soothe white Seattleites still skeptical of the benefits of this onslaught, diversity billboards featuring smiling multiracial characters soon became a common sight along the I-405 corridor. Meanwhile, a fractured white identity screamed in primal angst within the maladjusted milieu of a drug-infested grunge music scene. The neighborhood parks where we had once grilled hamburgers, and where my friends and I had dreamt of becoming the next Jim Thome or Mark McGwire, quickly became the default venues for Indian wedding celebrations and religious festivals. Though unbeknownst to me at the time, I now realize that the burgeoning depression of my friends and I stemmed directly from this flagrant displacement and loss of purpose and peoplehood.
White identity frayed further at my high school of the mid-1990s, during which anti-white ideology grew commonplace, the concerns about which were summarily dismissed with an amused chuckle by all of the enlightened adults. Looking back, the white children had an instinctively wiser awareness of diversity’s perils than our parents did. Yet I, still too young to process fully the extent of the degradation around me, ensconced myself in my studies, excelling at music, mathematics, philosophy, and history. During my junior year at university, where I majored in history, a prominent black professor took me under his wing, promoting me to a rare position as an undergraduate researcher and writer, alongside graduate school entrants, for a prominent website on African American and global African history he had launched. What I was about to learn in my investigations would transform my nascent racial resentments into a clear-eyed understanding of race and a passionate commitment to my people.
Due to my extremely leftist upbringing and lack of exposure to blacks, I expected my studies to reveal an Africa afflicted with postcolonial devastation traceable to white rule. Instead, what I found was unmixed mayhem linked squarely to blacks. Using the valuable objectivity that my science professors had imparted to me, I strained to see how blacks were oppressed by whites. What I found instead was how desperately blacks depended on whites and their billions of U.S. dollars in foreign aid to sustain blacks’ very existence. And I saw how these charitable infusions were greedily misappropriated in what had become a flagrant and growing industry of institutional larceny.
Poring over decades of GDP data, I discovered how colonized countries had fared well under white rule, with infrastructure and forms of civility duly erected, only to fall into abject ruin upon declaring independence. In 20th century Africa, I learned about entire communities of blacks filling their drinking buckets from the same water source in which they defecated. I also found out about the blacks who starved to death due to a lack of basic maintenance of their once-thriving farms, which had been set up and properly stewarded by whites, only to be raided and abandoned in a spate of childlike mismanagement upon the dissolution of colonial rule. I learned about the continent’s endemic rape problem. I learned about the AIDS epidemic and how black men sought out intercourse with virgin women in an attempt to cure the disease.
I considered how some formerly colonized countries in Asia had economically vaulted ahead of some white nations, but I could find no explanation, other than racial differences, why not even one black nation had managed to achieve parity with the West. The entrenched pattern of incompetence among blacks was simply too global, too persistent, and thus too easily explainable by biology. Meanwhile, my evolutionary biology professor presented many noteworthy findings of differences in disease resistance, blood type, and internal organ size among the various subgroups of humanity. I began to consider that the capacity for civilization was also not universally human.
Knowing I was not the only person to have reached these conclusions, I sleuthed around a fledgling internet and found American Renaissance. After fifteen years, thousands of articles, and a hundred or so books, my entire existence has been upended. I married a Ukrainian woman, for whom white racial solidarity is a given, and for whom racial differences are an objective reality. My wife and I have since had two beautiful white children whose future I cannot say is certain, but whose mental health I know will be better because of their unabashedly proud sense of peoplehood.
Having been reared in a bastion of leftism, I can testify to the power that anti-white indoctrination holds over society. I can also testify to the seething anti-white sentiments of the incomers, who understandably disdain obsequious, effeminate leftist whites and their shameful lack of instincts for self-preservation. Within two to three decades, the US will become a majority non-white nation, and persecution of whites will be on the agenda for our new rulers. Political transpirations happen suddenly — much faster than people living in the moment ever imagine. Hence we need to act fast while time remains to effectively organize ourselves. The abruptness of the anti-white protests of 2020 and the unexpected, dramatic sociopolitical changes that took place thereafter should serve as stark warnings for us. We are the American nation, but our legacy will endure only if we commit ourselves to outsmarting our corporate, media, academic, and government overlords and choose to forge secret societies that are self-reliant and able to withstand persecution.
Now is the time. Not tomorrow. We as a people must organize for ourselves a government for the sake of not only our own race, but also for all of humanity. Western civilization has shined the light of scientific knowledge and Christian morality on the world. Owing to our pathological altruism, this light has been dimmed. Yet together, with proper leadership and intelligent planning, we can rebuild our institutions. Together, with foresight and fierce determination — and humble hearts ready to listen and learn — we can stand tall once more in forging our own nation.
If you have a story about how you became racially aware, we’d like to hear it. If it is well written and compelling, we will publish it. Use a pen name, stay under 1,200 words, and send it to us here.