In 2003, American Renaissance published its first collection of first-person accounts of how readers “saw the light.” Since then, we have published dozens, and they are always popular. I confess, though, that they have served a different purpose from the one I first expected.
Like any kind of advocacy, white advocacy is a form of sales. We are selling racial consciousness, helping people shuck the suicidal nonsense they have been told about race and learn the truth. For more than 25 years, I have been looking for the best sales pitch. I used to think there might be a few key arguments, and that if I asked AR readers what had changed their minds I would learn what they were. I was wrong.
Everyone seems to find the truth in his own way, and it doesn’t usually start with ideas at all. Our racial convictions are deeply rooted. We don’t arrive at them because we researched the options—as we might for an insurance plan or a new shotgun—and come up with what suits us best. Deep convictions are beyond the reach of arguments. As you will see from these accounts, most people started with a jolt. Something happened that didn’t fit the official pattern of noble minorities and wicked whites. People snoop the internet or the library and then they find arguments and explanations that make sense. As I have learned, reality is the most powerful red pill.
Honing our arguments—polishing our pitch, so to speak—is certainly not a waste of time. When someone is jolted into a receptive frame of mind, he need stepping stones towards a fully dissident frame of mind. Good arguments and solid facts are those stepping stones and AmRen tries to provide them. As one woman remarked at a recent American Renaissance conference, “Thank you for building a movement that was there when I was ready for it.”
So why publish stories about how people saw the light if they don’t show us silver-bullet arguments? First, egalitarian orthodoxy is the default state of mind, and it’s fascinating to read about what jolted people out of it. Someday, our way of thinking will be the default state of mind, and these stores won’t be interesting, but we’re not there yet.
The second reason is that dissidents need comrades. It’s important to know there are real people and organizations behind subversive ideas. Flesh-and-blood comrades are best, and we are always thinking of ways—in addition to conferences—for like-minded people to meet each other. But AmRen is also an on-line community of real people, and these are the stories of real people.
We hope you enjoy them.
— Jared Taylor
Actually, I became a diversity realist. One day, I was speaking with a black friend, a good guy and a realist. He said, “If I can walk down the street wearing a “black power” T-shirt, how come a white guy can’t walk down the same street wearing a “white power” T-shirt?” I thought about that.
A few weeks later, I witnessed a mini-race war. Hispanics were moving into a black neighborhood, much to the blacks’ disapproval. At that point, I realized that to have a sense of identity and pride, each race needs its own space where it can control its own destiny.
Since that time, I have opposed no racial group but have become a committed foe of diversity and multiculturalism, because they are paradoxical and do not work. Ever. Even in small doses.
I am not a white Christian but I would rather live and work as a non-citizen voluntary contractor of goods and services in a market-driven, freedom-loving white Christian nation that extends the protection of rule of law and freedom of association to all as opposed to a multi-racial, quota-driven society with different arbitrary standards of behavior, rewards, punishment depending on race.
I was a freshman at the University of Washington at Seattle in 1971, participating in an experimental “residential program” that had all of the participants living on the third floor of a single dorm. Of the three classes we were expected to take, only one was on campus: The other two were taught in the common room of our floor of the dorm. Consequently, we all knew each other, ate together, and interacted with each another daily.
Having grown up in rural southern California, I had not had much experience with non-whites who were not of Mexican origin. My girlfriend at the time was the very progressive-minded daughter of a “Wobbly,” so she had even less racial consciousness than I did. One day, the program’s two black students invited her to “study” with them in their room, where they tried to rape her. She narrowly escaped thanks to the intervention of other students who heard the commotion. When confronted, the two would-be rapists were unapologetic about their actions, and mostly seemed sullen about having been caught. That’s when I started paying attention.
Irritated in Illinois:
I attended high school in Chicago. I could write a book on blacks. But since I have only 200 words, I’ll give one example.
In the school lunchroom, blacks would push the lunch trays of whites to the floor. Ruining whites’ lunches and costing them money did not give them enough satisfaction, however. Next, they would order the white victim to clean up the mess. Since the whites were terrified of the blacks, they’d always meekly obey while the blacks watched and laughed. One day a brave white girl—a friend of mind—refused to clean up the mess. The blacks became increasingly enraged at her gall. Things began to escalate and it looked like there’d be a riot. A white teacher ran up, terrified. “For the love of God, clean up the mess!” she begged the girl. “Don’t antagonize them or they’ll riot!”
The principal? He’d lock himself inside his office when there was trouble. When my friend’s mom called him to complain about this incident, he said, “If we discipline them, they’ll scream racism.”
My father spent time in a Japanese internment camp, and he relentlessly warned me against racism. In college at an Ivy League university, I had that message reinforced. I graduated as a True Believer in the importance of eradicating racism. But during my years in studying for a Ph.D., also at an Ivy League university, I became aware of the genetic research into such traits as intelligence and impulsivity, including differences between races. In addition, my later work brought me into the homes of many African-American and Hispanic families.
Together, these experiences have persuaded me that blacks and Hispanics are not closing the achievement gap. Furthermore, their multi-generational high crime and drug abuse rates in every country in the world are far more a function of their culture and other intrinsic factors than they are of white racism or lack of government programs. The more I hear demands for more redistribution of tax dollars and attention to blacks and Hispanics, the more I find myself aligned with race realists, especially intelligent, reflective ones such as Jared Taylor.