How I Saw the Light About Race (Part II)
John S., Vermont:
In 1969, my parents joined the “white flight” from New York City to a suburb in New Jersey to spare me from what was happening in the schools in Manhattan. I attended an all-white private school until the seventh grade. Eventually, private school became too expensive, and I entered the public school system.
At this point, in 1977, mandatory busing of blacks to white schools and vice versa was in full force. That first year of public school opened my eyes to the race problem. On my first day, I was attacked in the hallway by a group of blacks. As they were beating me, I asked them why and one shouted, “Because you’re white!” During the next six years until I graduated, so many bad things happened to me at the hands of blacks that I could never write them all down in 200 words. I was mugged at knife point for a dollar, forced to bring blacks money and food, called “white boy” constantly, kicked, tripped, and beaten.
One day, when I was about 16, I was attacked while walking to school by about 20 little black kids. As they were punching and kicking me, one of them said, “My daddy said all white people is da devil!” Another said, “Your granddaddy used to own my granddaddy!”
The last straw for me came later in my mid-20s. I was living with my soon-to-be wife in an apartment in a white part of town. In the middle of the day, a black guy was walking down the street picking up newspapers on lawns, carrying them to front doors, and knocking. A white woman across the street from us opened the door when he knocked. I learned later that he forced his way in and raped her. Then he walked down the street and got on a bus back home to Newark.
After that, it was my turn for white flight. We moved to the whitest place we could find: Vermont. Living without blacks for the last 27 years has been a joy.
Once I hired a black girl to work for me. She was sweet as pie, spoke perfect English, and handled herself well in the interview. On the job, she was an average worker, although sometimes she would show up late and was inclined to take a day off every now and then.
I used to drop her paycheck off at her workplace rather than mail it so she would have it sooner. Sometimes, if I showed up five minutes late, she would make a fuss. When I told her I could mail it instead, she said she could wait the extra time rather than count on the mail.
One day, I was 10 minutes late. Her huge, six-foot-eight black boyfriend started lacing into me, while she shouted threats and racial slurs. I ran out, with him chasing after me. Outside, only a parked cop car saved me. That was 15 years ago. I have never again hired a black person, or ever associated with one.
I went to high school in the early 1990s. Rap was becoming popular, and many white students gravitated toward it. I recall wondering why, as I resisted peer pressure to do the same. I watched my high school in rural Pennsylvania devolve into something resembling the movie Dangerous Minds. Later, in college, I saw white guys wear their pants down around their thighs. The more I saw, the more I resisted.
In my professional life, I saw diversity become mandatory for anyone who wanted to survive in the corporate world. It reminded me of the same peer pressure I had felt in high school. Despite finding groups that were pro-white, I was turned off by their lack of organization. After a long search, I landed at AmRen, where I found race realists that use facts and research to back up their positions. I knew I had found my place.
I have become a race realist mainly because I have spent the last three years attending one of the most diverse schools in the country, Georgia State University.
I was raised in a good, white, conservative family and had always been taught to be proud of my country. But I had never truly been taught to be proud of my people’s history and race. I attended a prominent, majority-white high school in the suburbs of Atlanta and never really needed to think about race.
But things changed when I got to university, where blacks make up 38 percent of the student body, and whites, 32 percent. The remaining students are a mix of other races. After a year in this environment, I started to develop a racial consciousness. Within another two years, with the help of some friends, I embraced race realism and became a proud advocate for my people. I am now 21, and I owe my awakening to diversity, which has taught me who I truly am and what really matters.