Yaroslav Podvolotskiy, American Renaissance, November 6, 2021
This is part of our continuing series of accounts by readers of how they shed the illusions of liberalism and became race realists.
It is impossible to say when I became aware of racial differences, but it likely started when I was a child, living just south of Dallas-Fort Worth (DFW). When I was around four or five years old, I remember watching the news regularly with my mom. Each day there was a story about a murder in DFW. The suspects and victims were always black. One day we were at Kroger’s to pay for groceries. A middle aged black man walked up behind us to take his place in line. “Mom,” I said loudly, “there’s a black person. Does that mean we’re going to get murdered?”
My awareness of racial differences grew from there. My Catholic mom, who divorced my Jewish father, was intent on raising me in the Church and put me in a Catholic school. There were no black children save for one Protestant. The students were mostly white and Hispanic. We all got along well for the most part. The only trouble I remember was slugging the black kid for taking my desk — a gross overreaction on my part. The next day we forgot about it and were friends again.
My bubble burst when my father got custody of me and put me in a public school. It was loaded with loud, unruly, and aggressive blacks and Hispanics. Like most kids, I bullied and got bullied. However, whites and Hispanics had a sense of fair play and knew when to stop. Blacks exerted no such control over themselves. I remember being repeatedly body slammed by a black boy twice my size during gym class in the sixth grade. The white teachers and other students did nothing to help me.
My dad pulled me out of that school and placed me in another private Catholic institution, but shortly after starting I was expelled for, among other things, fighting a Hispanic peer. From there, I was sent to a military school where I witnessed more black degeneracy, ranging from simple bullying to torturing animals and people. This century-old Episcopalian institution recently closed permanently due to repeated lawsuits filed by parents.
After coming back home, I was enrolled in a public school from which I graduated and joined the Navy. In the fleet, I witnessed more of what this race has to offer. Blacks could not pass the boot camp swim test, much less more advanced training schools. Most who couldn’t pass muster were sent to deck departments all over the fleet where they chipped paint and rust all day. They hated it, but it was all many of them were capable of. The most capable blacks worked in supply or admin, along with the Filipinos, save for the ones who “acted white.” Throughout my time in the Navy, it was nearly impossible to get anyone in supply or admin to do their jobs.
Several black sailors come to mind, but the one who stands out most is a petty officer who worked in the barracks at Naval Service Training Command, Great Lakes. She went out of her way to make sure blacks got special treatment. Once, when the whites were gathered in the day room watching the Stanley Cup Finals, she kicked us out so the blacks could watch the NBA Finals. Nevermind we were there first and the game was five minutes from ending.
She would also bring her child to work and he would run around out of control squirting a water gun everywhere. It finally stopped when my watch section was on duty and I took away his water gun. She took me into an office and threatened me but I stood my ground. Knowing she was in the wrong, she eventually relented.
I think it was sometime around then that I realized the game was rigged against whites. A group of sailors wanted me to go to the base commander and report her behavior. They thought the commander would listen to me because I was a fleet-returnee. But I refused. The base commander was a black female. I warned: “Whose side do you think she’ll come down on?” Later, one of my white roommates said, “Gee, I wish I were black. Then I could do whatever I wanted.”
It was around this time I found Jared Taylor and American Renaissance and knew I was not alone in my thinking. Later, I came across the writings of John Derbyshire and Peter Brimelow at VDARE, and then Mark Steyn, who guest hosted for the late Mr. Rush Limbaugh. They kept me sane through four years of university and community college.
Later, I decided I had had enough and moved to Ukraine. Here it is mostly white, but lately I have seen a small influx of Muslims in Kiev. If we join the European Union or Russia’s Eurasian Economic Union, I believe things will only get worse.
I have come to many realizations reading AmRen, but the most important is that we cannot be overcome with hatred and rage. All of us have those feelings sometimes, but they are not productive emotions and are eventually self-destructive. Instead, let us endeavor to channel our focus into helping one another and waking up as many of our people as possible.
Many believe these are dark days for Christendom. But they are not. These are great days. Let us rise to meet the challenge with the courage and heroism of our ancestors.
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.