Going to a Black School Made Me Proud to Be White

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

I grew up in a rough area of New York City, rife with crime and “diversity.” As a child, my parents were so concerned for my safety, I wasn’t allowed to play outside at all — not only was I white, but a girl too. When it came time for me to start school, my parents wouldn’t even consider sending me to any of the local public schools, but our family wasn’t rich, so our options were limited. Eventually, they found a Catholic school that was relatively affordable, and made an effort to accommodate poorer students — which, unfortunately, eventually attracted non-whites to it.

When I started attending pre-kindergarten there, I was one of many white students. But every year the number went down. My parents knew this would not end well, but no matter what they tried, better schools were always out of reach, always having too big a price tag or too long a waiting list. Though on paper my school was Catholic and private, it became no different from an urban public school in just a few years, with a student body that was about 80 percent black. The way I and the handful of other whites were treated was unbearable. Teachers turned a blind eye to it out of fear — I saw more than one parent threaten the administration with the label of “racist” if their child was disciplined. By the third grade, the bullying I suffered got so bad that my parents wrote several letters to the school about it. But even then, the racial dynamic of that kept any action from being taken.

In fifth grade, in a desperate attempt to blend in, I adopted a “ghetto” accent and started listening to rap. I even idly imagined what life would be like if I could become black, and wished it could be so. This infuriated my family, but I was firmly under the illusion that changing my habits could make my black peers see me as anything other than a white girl to prey upon. All the same, whenever there was an announcement that there would be a new student enrolling, I would pray that he or she would be white, desperately hoping for some kind of companion. But they never were. Each and every new student was black — white students only ever left.

The curriculum was tailored for the school’s demographics. American History was just a series of small blurbs about slavery, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Jr., etc. Only the absolute simplest types of math were ever taught, religion classes were completely devoid of rigor or critical thinking, etc. I remember learning about “racism” and how blacks used to be kept out of segregated schools by force. When I asked why anyone would treat another human being like that, and what their reasons were, I was told that there were — and are — evil people in the world filled with hate, and that we will never be able to understand them. It was through the internet that I found much more satisfying answers to the questions I had. It was also how I found others wondering about the same things that I did. I soon dropped my ghetto posturing, realizing that my peers would never accept me, and began developing a positive racial identity.

For high school, I was accepted at a very white elite institute after acing their entrance exam. The “Catholic” school I left went from bad to worse. Due to steadily declining enrollment and lack of funds, it eventually closed down permanently. Today, with the help of American Renaissance I do my best to inform others about the realities of race and the importance of choosing “good schools,” because nobody deserves to have a childhood like mine.

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.