How I Became a “Racist”

This is part of our continuing series of accounts by readers of how they shed the illusions of liberalism and became race realists.

How did I become a race realist? First slowly, then quickly.

I grew up in a big university town where leftist doctrine held almost total sway. Then, as now, the town had two types of blacks: a small underclass, and an even smaller clique of black academics — drawn from the cream of the African crop. But even as early as elementary school, I noticed a stark divide. As in Shaker Heights, the schools did not make the students; the students made the schools.

As a boy, I once attended the birthday party of a black kid in my Boy Scout troop. I was the only white person there, and about a head taller than most of them. It wasn’t a hostile experience, but it wasn’t friendly either. We just had nothing in common. I started to suspect racial differences in intelligence in high school. There were some black students, but none in advanced classes. Instead, you could find them all taking remedial arithmetic. After college, I slowly developed an antipathy to black culture. I was a fan of Miles Davis for a while, but disco bored me to tears and hip-hop grated on my ears so badly it was essentially auditory repellent. The more blues I listened to, the more patent cultural degeneracy revealed in so much of its lyrics repelled me. I just had nothing in common with these people.

Wherever I’ve been, the color of crime has been black. One supermarket I used to frequent had to block off the liquor aisle at night. Local blacks would enter as a crew, with all but one loitering by the exit. The one who didn’t would go grab liquor bottles and them over the checkout lanes to his confederates by the doors, who would then run off with their loot. The store had to inconvenience the law-abiding to protect itself from the criminal class. Another infamous local crime was when a van full of blacks kidnapped a white woman right off the street. Because the van was distinct and there were witnesses, this group was caught. Today, they’ve learned to steal nondescript vehicles for their crime sprees, and abandon them afterward.

A few years ago I became a de facto retiree, many years younger than I had expected to. I started reading black blogs as well as race realist ones Stuff Black People Don’t Like, Those Who Can See, New Nation News, and Second City Cop. The level of entitlement and racial hostility on black blogs is breathtaking; there is a total absence of gratitude for the society that has given them so much. Seeing this completed my full transformation into a racially conscious white man.

The accumulation of scientific evidence that the roots of racial differences are genetic, and the hysteria of both blacks and the politically correct/Cultural Marxist establishment in reaction to this evidence, has pushed me all the way, too.

There is no living with these people, any of them.

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.