Posted on February 27, 2017

How I Saw the Light About Race (Part VIII)

American Renaissance, February 27, 2017

K.T.P., Illinois:

I attended high school in Galesburg, Illinois, from 1966 to 1969. We weren’t “integrated” by government order since everyone, except those in Catholic school, went to the one public school, which was 10 percent black.

There was the usual black behavior — cutting into the front of the lunch line, running the halls like escaped chimps, and sexually harassing white girls.

Things escalated to the boiling point for whites when three soul brothers ganged up on the smallest kid in our class, beating him and breaking his nose.

I called a meeting of the white students at the local hangout, where I urged them to dress in white clothing to show our unity and our disgust with black behavior.

The next morning I was amazed at how the word had spread and how many kids were dressed in white. The blacks walked out of school, to our delight.

My awakening continued in college, where blacks rioted until the National Guard arrived. Whites stood cheering when the buses drove up

My racial awareness became complete as I studied the speeches and writings of Dr. Revilo Oliver and the monumental work by Mr. Wilmot Robertson, The Dispossessed Majority. I have never looked at race the same since.


Ms. P:

Blacks have clearly devolved from a God-fearing generation that was for the most part eager to fit in, exercise their freedom, and develop their talents. The current generation seems to have been spoiled by handouts, bred to hate, inspired by violence, and made to want to destroy any semblance of human accord.

I worked as a New York City guidance counselor from 1989 through 2010, where I served elementary and junior high school children. Family dysfunction, sexual promiscuity, immoral and highly impulsive behavior, a general lack of respect for law and rules, and a flagrant unwillingness or inability to excel intellectually were always the proud hallmark of this new generation. My days were spent trying to help those suffering from the effects of a chaotic and often abusive home life, intervening or attempting to lessen the emotional and physical bruises caused by school violence (black on black), and dealing with explosive and verbally abusive parents or caretakers. My early years of respect, idealism, and even admiration for the black race seem to be long gone.

It is with serious doubts and skepticism about a peaceful future between the races that I look toward tomorrow. I have come face to face with the reality of our incompatibility, and I can only hope for the best for all of us.



I had zero experience with blacks until I was 14, and I was optimistically curious about them, with no pre-judgments. Then my family moved to the city.

I was a Christian, mid-western farm girl, who effortlessly achieved straight As.  When I did finally meet blacks, I found them to be childish, unintelligent, inarticulate and often immoral and degenerate. That opinion has been confirmed over the decades.

My late husband Paul spent two years with the Peace Corps in Africa. There he witnessed carefree sex, unwed mothers, abandoned orphans, and American aid money intended for educating African kids being stolen by Africans to buy weapons and luxury cars. For a long while, he made endless excuses for blacks until finally he had to conclude, “They’ve still got the jungle blood in their veins.” He believed that within two or three generations, if left to themselves, Africans would revert to their ancestral lifestyle, since they were incapable of maintaining white man’s technology.

My own experience here at home has been similar. I have endured callous black health department bureaucrats, incompetent school officials and teachers, and more recently rude and often drunken black neighbors in my deteriorating neighborhood. These experiences have caused my continued awakening, and lately, as I have witnessed an influx of Hispanics, that awakening has only intensified.



No violent encounters with people of other races occurred during my childhood in a white, liberal college town in the Netherlands. Yet, as a teenager, I began to dislike the multicultural, anti-racist ideology I was raised under. Why? I became suspicious of the motives of those who professed it. It seemed to me they secretly believed the opposite of what they preached. Blacks and Arabs were spoken of in the way one tends to speak of retarded persons; whatever they do, they must be forgiven, because they cannot help it. By affecting this attitude, the anti-racists pay a huge compliment to themselves: “Look at me, I am a defender of the weak, I am an altruist!”

The anti-racists claim to be a new priesthood to which we all must submit unconditionally. And so I became skeptical before I even examined the issue itself. Since then, I have lived in big cities in various countries, and have seen the devastating consequences of multiculturalism and mass-immigration with my own eyes. But the seeds of my apostasy were sown by hypocrites in a white, liberal town.


[Editor’s Note: This is the final installment of a series. See also Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, and Part VII.]