Posted on March 24, 2024

Finding Out Who You Are

Anonymous American, American Renaissance, March 24, 2024

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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.

How did I see the light on race? To answer this question, I actually have to start with who I am.

I was raised in a Hispanic household, and both of my parents were born and raised in Mexico. All my life I was told that I was Hispanic, and I never questioned it. Why would I? I was a child.

As I was growing up in the 90s, my parents were very careful with the kind of media I consumed, but of course they could never be in the room at all times. I developed a taste for rap music in my early years, and I suppose this could be where the idea of race first took root for me.

I developed an ire for white people early in my life. I hated white people, not because of any wrong they had ever done to me, but simply because music, film, and television told me it was correct. It was fashionable, and even cool, to hate whites.

Then two events occurred that made me reconsider my beliefs and that planted a seed, if you will.

The first was less personal than the second. Both my parents lamented the changing demographic of the El Paso, Texas, neighborhood I was growing up in. The elderly white people were dying, and Hispanics were moving in. It seemed so strange to me. Why were they lamenting the death of the whites? Weren’t they the enemy? I should point out that neither of my parents held any ill feelings toward whites. In fact, they were more than happy to integrate into American culture.

However, their lament at the loss of their white neighbors became immediately apparent. The green lawns died and turned to dirt and weeds. Brightly colored and carefully maintained homes turned dull and dirty. Places where before had flowed fountains of water and held carefully curated gardens now turned into trash heaps with abandoned junkers on cinder blocks.

The second event? One day I was walking through the hallway of our home, and I saw an old black-and-white picture of a white man next to our family photos. I asked my father who this man was, and he told me that was my great-great-grandfather.

I was stunned. A white man? In our family? I look back at the absurdity of my surprise in this instance, since all the evidence of white heritage was right there in my face. I had just been trained not to see it. And just like that, my hatred of whites vanished. After all, I was one of them, and I wasn’t so bad, was I?

I spent essentially the next 15 years of my life under the belief that all men of all races were equal, until I stumbled upon some daring content creators of race topics on YouTube. (Mind you, this was before the mass censorship we have today was implemented.)

I began to learn more about the realities of race, intrigued by the videos online and later by books I purchased that are deemed “offensive” and “racist” today. I even took a DNA test and found out that I was predominantly European (63%).

The closer I got to the truth, the faster my realization came. All the mental blocks I had installed in my mind dissolved, and everything just made sense.

This is not the most dramatic story, I know, as there was no singular event that revealed the reality of race to me. Instead, it was a gradual process, like a stone being worn smooth by running water little by little. My worldview permanently changed. It would be impossible to condense a lifetime of reflection into a single sentence, but perhaps the following will illuminate my perspective.

One of the few advantages of being mixed race was that I was able to cut through the lies each side told about the other, whites to Hispanics and Hispanics to whites. I was able to see the truth, and that truth was a cutting one: whites build better societies.

I firmly believe that I achieved this state of mind only because of content creators who dared to ask the questions no one else dared to ask. So if you are reading this, know that your efforts do not go unnoticed.

You never know whose mind you might change for the better.

If you have a story about how you became racially aware, or about your firsthand experience with race, we’d like to hear it. If it is well written and compelling, we will publish it. Please feel free to use a pen name and send it to us here.