From Wide-Eyed Liberal to Race Realist

The professor stopped the conversation. A young Korean-American originally from Los Angeles, she specialized in race, race theory, and fiction. The class was called “Race & Detective Fiction.” At the time, I read any detective novel I could get my hands on. I still do. I wrote my Master’s thesis on the subject.

But before I could leave my very liberal school with a degree signed by two professors who doubled as officers in the International Socialist Organization, I decided to take this elective. The class probably met some university-wide “diversity” requirement; I took it because of my love for cop stories.

The class focused solely on identity politics. Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Murder in the Rue Morgue” became a story about the plight of black barbers in 1830s Philadelphia. Charlie Chan novels became the foundations for American neocolonial apologetics. Even the most progressive students had to admit that such theorizing drained all the fun out of the books and that “diversity” detective novels are not worth the cover price. Walter Mosley is just not as good as Raymond Chandler. Sandra Cisneros cannot hold a candle to Dashiell Hammett. If the teacher wanted to inculcate a deep appreciation for post-1965, “diverse” detective literature, she mostly failed.

However, she did manage to achieve one success: She kept me from talking about the biological foundations of race. During one session, I decided to bring up Thomas Bouchard’s 1979 research on twins, which I had recently discovered.

Identical twins who had been separated at birth and reared in completely different households lived very similar lives. They liked the same things, had the same character flaws, and mirrored each other in surprising ways. Dr. Bouchard concluded that in the balance between nature and nurture, nature is dominant.

I brought this up with reference to the fact that some races are prone to certain behaviors. For instance, despite the constant refrain that white men are overrepresented among mass killers, I pointed out that East Asians are statistically more likely to commit such crimes.

The professor cast my point aside, saying, “That sounds too much like the biological definition of race. I don’t think that is appropriate.” This woman had a Ph.D in English, not genetics or biology, but she knew that I had crossed some kind of Rubicon and that I should be stopped from going any further.

The course had other eye-opening moments. One day, a student mentioned that his ancestors came from southern France, so his skin and hair were much darker than mine (my background is Northern European). The professor more or less scoffed and explained that all white people are just simply white.

My journey from liberalism to race realism may have been inevitable. Even at the apex of my liberalism in 2004 (thankfully I could not yet vote), I was proud that parts of my family have been in America since the founding of Jamestown. In my hometown, native-born whites were about 90 percent of the population. Race never really came up. I grew up with some Indian and Korean friends, but I associated mostly with other lower-middle-class whites.

That changed when I joined the Navy after college. Within weeks I was writing letters home to my family that would wreck my chances at running for office if they ever became known. I noticed that none of the black recruits would accept even minor discipline. They never worked hard during our morning chores, talked all the time, and were constantly arguing with each other. One of our Recruit Division Commanders, who came from Colombia, encouraged their bad habits by joking with them. Some black recruits began imitating his habit of teasing our few Asian recruits about their appearance, telling them to “open their eyes” or “wake up.”

These blacks acted like petty dictators. I remember seeing them make a white recruit they didn’t like do exercises after lights out and the non-commissioned officers (NCOs) had gone home. The white recruit kept quiet, even though recruits have no right treat each other like that. A few of us told the NCOs about this, but they did nothing.

My race realism progressed further during technical training, when the problem students were mostly black or Hispanic. Our worst classmate, an obnoxious black woman from New York City, kept getting sent back to earlier training classes because she got violent with other students.

Years later, when I was an NCO, I had to deal with senior leaders who said it was “racism” whenever they got a poor performance evaluation. Even one well-respected black NCO, whom everyone jokingly called a “Nazi” because of his open support for conservative Republicans, insinuated that the command held him back because of his race.

Still, my politics had only moved slightly. Instead of being a liberal Democrat, I had become a subscriber to National Review and believed firmly thattf

“Democrats are the real racists!”

It took years in academia to push me over the edge. I saw impressionable white girls constantly crying about imperialism and “white privilege.” I felt my guts churn as a series of Southern women moved above the Mason-Dixon Line and immediately began telling all of their Northern and Midwestern professors how racist, sexist, and evil their home states are. Many of these women made fun of their parents for being realistic about the races.

The American academy is mostly well-to-do white women promoting anti-white hatred to advance their careers. Serious scholarship is a thing of the past. Most male professors are weaklings who nod their heads and just get on with their lives. They learned their bad habits in classes such “Race & Detective Fiction.” Although they privately make jokes about how ridiculous such race-centric education is, they are the first to parrot cultural Marxism to their students. Careerism meets an ingrained culture of anti-white hatred. It is no better in the military or in corporate America.

My second political awakening, from “cuckservatism” to race realism, was far quicker, and involved a series of relatively minor changes in thinking. As a son of Appalachia, I have long been the subject of many good- and bad-natured jokes about cousin marriages, shoelessness, and buck teeth. All of these comments hardened a naturally stern brand of Appalachian patriotism, which, given my long exposure to the university’s hatred of the white working class, easily became working-class white patriotism.

Also, once I began paying attention to the news, I started seeing why so many people in my hometown took a dim view of blacks. After Ferguson and Baltimore, I understood that pumping money into the ghetto would never fix things. While my home state is shockingly poor, its white homogeneity is a bulwark against crime, especially violent crime. Poverty need not equal crime.

Finally, when I discovered American Renaissance, VDARE, and the blogs and people known as the “alt-right,” I realized that there is a more honest right-wing in American thought. Convinced by the statistics presented in “The Color of Crime,” and similarly convinced by the immigration arguments made by people such as Peter Brimelow, John Derbyshire, and Ann Coulter, I started reading more from the part of conservatism that even other “conservatives” shunned. I quickly found that this was where to find the best answers.

I am not a fan of the Right’s habit of useless infighting and don’t care about labels such as “alt-right” and “neo-reactionary,” but I now support the un-cucked movement as the only legitimate counterrevolution. Thanks to American Renaissance videos (a personal favorite is “You Stole America from the Indians”), I now try to inject race realism into my working life. When I teach my students or write papers, I refuse to engage in cultural Marxism or in anti-white rhetoric. My research is similarly oriented towards supporting, not decrying the 1924 Immigration Act.

We on the right often muse about how normal our ideas used to be. Let us hope our position as modern heretics will be fleeting. A future in which “Race & Detective Fiction” is an aberration is possible. All it takes is that we be bold.

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.