The Consistency of Black Misbehavior

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 Santa Cruz in the 1960s and 1970s — back then, it was overwhelmingly white. Even still, black criminality made me into a race realist at a young age. When I was seven or eight years old, my brother and I were riding our bikes along a creek when suddenly two blacks accosted us and tried to snatch my brother’s bike right out from under him. Around that same time, a black robbed and stabbed a teenager in the bathroom at a local theater. My father read me that story from the paper and warned me to watch out for blacks.

I joined the Navy in the 1980s and lived with blacks in bootcamp. Many of them were infatuated with their penises, “jokingly” humping other sailors, rubbing themselves, and masturbating in their bunks with no attempt at being discreet. On active duty, I witnessed only one sailor-on-sailor crime, when a black fleeter snatched another sailor’s wallet.

After the Navy, I lived across the street from a public housing hell-scape, where almost all of the hundreds of residents were black. Most were on welfare and all of them seemed committed to trashing their own building. In the service, blacks were subject to authoritative supervision that kept them — partially — in line. But there was no similar check on their behavior here, as police entered the area only in large numbers.

The residents hung out in what had once been a beautiful, tree-shaded park, but was now a polluted no-man’s land. They spent their days dealing drugs, drinking forties, and threatening non-blacks. There was no shortage of gunfire and violence. One night, some of them crossed the street and tipped over scores of headstones in a nearby historic cemetery. There were weekly shoplifting raids at the Korean grocery next to the park as well. Two doors down from my apartment, a black stabbed another black to death after an all-night crack-smoking party.

In the years since, I’ve been hassled by blacks plenty of times. So often, they seem convinced that there’s nothing better to do. The black reaction to the OJ Simpson verdict also made a big impression on me. More recently, a female relative of mine was stalked and finally raped by a black with multiple felonies on his record. I do what I can to stay away from blacks whenever possible, but even still, every crime that’s come into my life has been committed by blacks.

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.