White nationalists worry me too

Just finished watching a couple videos by the youtuber Braving Ruin where he was discussing identity denialism and critiquing how individualism went wrong. He’s a smart guy with a different vantage point who offered up plenty of food for thought. But as I keep looking into videos like his and those from Millennial Woes and similar, and also read the comment sections, I’m left with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Especially when folks get to talking about how mixed people can’t understand their positions and are basically left in outfield in these discussions. Indeed, I do feel as if I’m unwanted by all who take such positions. Such talk makes me nervous, very much so, because they speak of those of us who happened to be mixed with a type of degrading pity, as though we don’t belong, as though we’re somehow not real Americans who care about Western cultures. And that’s neither fair nor accurate.

That right there is the type of shit that has always boiled my blood when going up against white supremacist types. I’ve met them down South in the past and on a few occasions up here in the Midwest. They’re the ones who felt it was perfectly legitimate to call me out (when I was much younger) in front of people and state loudly that I am not “all white,” as if that were a putdown. I recall one such episode when I was a teenager in my hometown in Mississippi very clearly. But it didn’t get to me much at the time since most folks didn’t treat me poorly, so I chocked him up to being some random asshole. Now I’m seeing these random assholes appearing regularly online and chiding others in similar ways. Their message invariably is that because we’re not “all white” that somehow that means we’re defective, unwanted. But where do they imagine we’re supposed to go when this is our home and all we’ve ever known too?

Someone in a comment section tonight brought up a few good questions pertaining to this inquiry, asking why mixed people would want to support nationalistic agendas framed in this sort of way when it’s pretty obvious that eventually we’d be discarded by such a movement. We don’t fit their demographic criteria, no matter what’s in our hearts and minds, no matter how we may choose to live, no matter how much pride we might feel for this country (despite criticizing its shortcomings). Someone like me would be a FOOL to support an ethno-nationalist agenda — I’m well-aware of that fact and always have been.

But then I also get torn because all of my family is white (with a little Native American mixed in for good measure) and most of my friends are also white. And since I care about them I want to see them be okay in the end ultimately. That pits me and my own interests against those of my loved ones, though I know that none of my loved ones support an ethno-state and don’t believe in such divisions according to race. But this sort of ideology itself aims to pit loved ones against loved ones, don’t you see? It’d be asking my Grandma to turn her back on me, which she would never do. And it’d be asking me to separate myself from my closest friends, which I’d rather die than experience. Absolutely serious on that point. My friends and family mean the world to me, they are all that keeps me sane and I would completely lost without them. So to think of some crazy ideology wishing to separate people based on something so arbitrary as race alone is just sick. Deeply disturbing.

Yeah, I’m getting emotional on this topic tonight. Been emotional the last couple of days already, but this one really hits a nerve. It’s been tough enough coming up the product of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy, born to a woman who wasn’t really suited to motherhood, and thereby winding up being raised a good bit by my grandparents. I’m very grateful for the sacrifices they made in taking me in when I needed them most. Hate to imagine how life might otherwise have gone. My Papa and my Grandma represent what blood and soil means for me — and understanding that cuts straight down to my core, needing no explanation to strangers. My love with them has always been fierce and I pity the son of a bitch who’d ever aim to divide a family’s love just because somebody isn’t “white enough” according to their standards. Ya know, I grew up feeling like a burden and it’s given me a complex that I haven’t been able to shake to this day, and it makes me awfully sad to think that there’s a growing number of people out there who’d agree with that sentiment based purely on some blood differences. Not even cultural differences, not national differences. Just some fucking blood, some genetic material that only ever can lead us to generalized assessments of groups, saying very little about each individual therein.

I’ve told myself over the years that I ought not feel like a lesser person than others, that I have as much of a right to walk this earth as any of them do. And it’s true. Just as it’s true for all of you (save for those who forfeit that right by exterminating others unlawfully). We were born and we’re now here whether folks like it or not. Regardless of how much some might like to wax poetic on topics of ethnic pride and homogeneity. Sure, we do differ, but that’s true intraracially as much as interracially. Go read about it. I’m sure Dr. Charles Murray could explain it you.

Then I get to thinking about my best girlfriend (American of German and Swedish descent) and her Mexican husband and their mixed kids. They have a good family, and may they never be parted. To look upon them as a union that should’ve never taken place sounds to me like blasphemous thoughts. How dare you. Seriously. How dare someone concern themselves with matters that are truly none of your fucking business. Love trumps such nonsense. As it should. Thank God for that!

Yet these same people so often call themselves Christians. That hypocrisy is one reason I prefer not to live down South anymore. Yeah, I said it and I meant it. Though I recognize the Midwest has their fair share of jerks and tools too — at least up here people are more inclined to keep their opinions to themselves on such matters. Keep it behind closed doors and among close friends at least. Unlike some of the loud-mouth Southerners I’ve encountered who just can’t control themselves when it comes to blabbing about shit that doesn’t concern them. From other people’s religions (when it’s not affronting your own), to their sexual preferences (when it’s not impacting your own), to their family situations (as if you all came up perfectly!), to their race and the race(s) of their loved ones (which in no way directly affects YOU). I’ve long since been sick of it. And it makes me feel guilty still after all these years when I get irate at my fellow Southerners over this age-old bullshit, but oh well. Sometimes it needs to be stated aloud. Seeing as how they’re so notorious about not keeping their damn mouths shut, then maybe they deserve to get an earful back every once in a while.

But this isn’t about Southerners specifically…those are just my own past demons flaring up. Living among them just taught me originally how sick I am of such mindsets and solidified why I refuse to join suit. Not that it would make any sense if I tried. Because here’s the thing: when it all boils down to blood, there’s absolutely nothing you can do or say to change the situation. Can’t erase one’s genes. I could probably lie about mine, but why do so? Why should I have to? For what? Shouldn’t have to lie just so as to live in peace without being harassed by idiots and assholes over matters that shouldn’t concern them.

Though I can hear it already, from the peanut gallery that is emblazoned within my imagination, that these people DO see themselves as affected by persons like myself and unions like my friend has with her husband because we’re all part of this society and can’t help but be impacted by its decline. To which I’ll argue that the decline isn’t a result of people loving one another. Quite the contrary. Seems to me a big reason for the decline is all the divisiveness being sown. Which politicians just adore partaking in. Which we idiots on the ground can’t help but lap up.

Sure, there are real general differences among groups of people. And some perhaps will deem it impossible to live together, to which I say “bye.” Go wherever you’re going then. But that doesn’t entitle you to try to remake this entire society in your idealized vision. No. Certainly doesn’t entitle you to speak of doing violence against people just because you think the races ought to all be kept separated. Such talk is bananas and will be fiercely resisted. For all the wannabe nazis out in the crowd, there’s a whole lot more reasonable and sane people. The latter just happen to have better things to do than engage in battles of the wits with dumbasses online. People like to talk down about the so-called centrists out here, but I’d say don’t sell them short. They’re the many, and while they don’t get as crazy about politics as the nutjobs tend to, that doesn’t mean they’re a bunch of timid lambs waiting to be led to slaughter. Most of my closest people don’t care all that much about politics, but they do care about self-defense and they care a WHOLE BUNCH about their families, friends and neighbors.

I really shouldn’t let this junk get to me, but more and more people keep speaking as though they take these narratives seriously. As if they’re waiting for severe enough economic problems to arise so that they can take advantage of the situation like the opportunistic cockroaches that they are. America was never a white nation. We are indeed a melting pot. Hell, you’d have a hard time finding a white American who isn’t mixed with various European ethnic lineages. Not as if “white” were some sort of monolith. No. We’re all a bunch of mutts. And I imagine this trend will only continue, much to the white nationalists’ dismay. So be it.

If they were really serious, they’d focus more on preserving Western cultures, histories and ideals, instead of placing so much emphasis on race alone.

Race alone doesn’t tell you much about a person. As if we all haven’t met retarded jackass white people. Or retarded jackass black people, for that matter. Or retarded jackass native American people. Or retarded jackass Hispanics. Or retarded jackass Arabs. And I’m willing to bet there are even retarded jackass Orientals as well. ha

As if we don’t know this. As if somebody’s skin color alone is enough to make us want to have something to do with them, no matter how poorly they behave or how they treat us. Because someone’s white doesn’t guarantee they’ll behave loyally toward you any more than it guarantees a non-white won’t. Some out here like to say that individualism has become a problem, that we’re all off living in our little unsustainable bubbles but will eventually be made to recognize the importance of group identities. OK. But there are FAR better bases for forming group identities than race. Or sex/gender, for that matter. Whatever happened to those principles conservatives claimed to care about??

Just gotta remind myself that life is a shitshow sometimes. Not much can be done about that. And we humans aren’t as evolved as we like to think we are.

Shit like this gets me feeling like a misanthrope, like I can’t identify with any of the options being presented, nor do I want to. Want to love the ones I’ve got and do my little part in not horrendously fucking things up so far as I am able, and then not leave descendants to have to deal with this nuthouse.

“Eschewing Tribalism” (video by Benjamin Boyce)

“Postmodernism and Cultural Marxism | Jordan B Peterson”

Sunday afternoon conversation with Grandma (on farming, past race relations, and our changing times)

Just got off the phone with my Grandma. From time to time she gets to tripping down memory lane, telling about her life while growing up out on the farm. Listened to her tell of all they work they had to do back then, from tending to the hogs and plowing the fields, to picking cotton and growing a wide variety of vegetables. Plus caring for the chickens and milking the cow, churning butter, picking figs and peas and butter beans, etc. She told about how for several years her father would recruit black men looking for day labor positions to help pick the cotton and how a black woman named Mrs. Annie helped facilitate it so that all the men would be ready to be picked up on the day of hire and how she’d also oversee when wages were paid out later in the day for the amount of cotton collected, ensuring all was accepted as fair so no disputes could arise later on (and they never did). That would’ve been back in the 1940s-1950s. Grandma reflected on it being a good working relationship between all involved, with her father viewed as a fair man in that respect who paid well and treated people decently. And his wife was known as a good cook who was generous about feeding people. And the black folks in that area (a poor county by most standards and still to this day) were happy for the work, showing up on time as requested, content with the wages offered in an era before minimums became enforced. She spoke of people sharing their crops with one another and helping each other out as needed on one another’s farms.

Not that she always had nice things to say about her father. But he was by all accounts a sober man and a hard worker, and he treated people with friendliness and direct firmness so that they knew what he expected from them. That being back in the time when people had many kids so as to have low-cost laborers for their farms. My grandma was one of 6 kids, all girls except for one brother. I only knew my great-grandfather past the age of 70, he later living with my grandparents until he died at age 98. But during those years he was so old and worn out by life that I never had much of a relationship with him.

Grandma spoke about her mom and how her mom’s mom had died early on, leaving her mom to be raised by her aunt mostly. Apparently that woman wasn’t too nice of a person. Said her mom worked hard all her life. That being the running theme among nearly everybody worth mentioning in my lineage. Workhorses is what I’ve always referred to them as. The kind of people who wouldn’t know what to do with themselves if left idle. They find work to do since that’s all they know. Funny how things changed so abruptly for us younger generations who know nothing of that sort of lifestyle and can only listen to these old stories with wonder at how they managed all of that year after year, incapable of relating to their daily struggle to earn a living.

Sounded like a lot of drudgery, like the kind of life my contemporaries and I cannot relate to. We rely on a grocery store to provide everything we need today, whereas in Grandma’s time the only items they purchased at the store were flour, salt, black pepper, and occasionally lard (when a freshly slaughtered hog wasn’t available). She speaks of the wells on the property and how beef couldn’t be preserved as long as pork meat in the smokehouse. She tells of her mother sewing clothes for herself and the kids, though they sometimes went to the store to purchase church attire. And she tells of how they’d sweat in those churches, that being years before the advent of air conditioning. I don’t doubt that unto itself would prove to be hell in the Mississippi summer heat.

Hard to imagine life back then. While not so long ago, it might as well be centuries ago. So I keep asking her questions and pondering on the stories she shares. I asked her about race relations in her time, and she says it wasn’t like how it’s become these days, that people worked together then more than now because they all had hard lives. Amazing the difference a few decades and the emergence of material conveniences has made. Nowadays it’s as if some people are trying to rewrite history, pitting one race against another and pretending as though they’ve never been anything other than enemies who’ve never been able to see eye to eye. It’s a shame really that it’s come to this since many of us are rooted for generations in that same red clay soil, under the same blistering sun and its humid heat, contending with the same climate and conditions in trying to eek out an existence. Those were my ancestors just as they were some of yours too. And looking further back to pre-abolitionist days, I’ve read of the first indentured servant with my Papa’s last name to land on the east coast only to die during his servitude. Our histories aren’t as wholly separate as some like to pretend these days.

It’s as if we’re all becoming detached and divorced from history to where we’re prone to repeat generic stories passed down from those pushing an agenda, nevermind the truths of our actual lineages. That saddens me because it’s like watching something real get swept away as if it no longer matters. As if the new narrative trumps the truth. And with that, we can no longer appreciate what bonds we did possess in common, including a shared culture, for better or worse.

When I listen to her it feels like grains of sand being poured into my hands that then trickle down between my fingers and disappear into bottomless space where they might never be retrieved. Going, going, Gone. History made and history abandoned. Life’s work retold but then forgotten. Communal bonds established once upon a time, only to later be denied by future generations who care not about what came before. The past is being disposed of, like an inconvenient truth that defies the new narrative being woven. And I sit here and watch and listen as the conflicting tales pull in opposite directions and tear at the very fabric of (Southern) U.S. culture.

In a few more years all that will remain is the new retelling of racial injustices with no mercy shown to the many decades of the late 19th century and early-to-mid 20th century where progress had been made. That’s deemed obsolete, if not outright denied as a fairy tale, by those who wish to capitalize on a perpetual sense of victimhood. But they ought to see that their retelling of events isn’t accurate, that it leaves so much out, and that unto itself creates a new form of injustice that we’ll all wind up suffering from as a result. But people don’t think like that usually. Instead, they don’t look far enough ahead and like to cherry-pick the past to suit themselves. But what are you trying to suit nowadays? A grievance industry? A monopolization on righteous indignation? A false belief that only one sort of people were ever taken thorough advantage of, or, in reverse, that only one sort of people ever universally escaped hardships? It’s untrue. All might not be equal, nor would I claim that to be the case, but it’s not as unequal as some would have others believe.

So, when people go on these days talking about our roots and bloodlines and heritages, I can’t help but feel like mine has died. Perhaps never to be resurrected except in libelous narratives that attempt to rewrite history in order to bolster divisive modern political pursuits. That’s a damn shame. But I suppose this is just the way life tends to go. What once was tends to be forgotten over time. And what is here today might disappear tomorrow as well. Not sure what good it would do to try to hold onto that other than to keep it in my heart and let it inform my senses in the face of what others now wish to bring about. Not sure there’s anything else that realistically can be done.

“This is why Black Lives don’t matter to many!”

From the Ghetto News Network (based in Chicago):

For good measure, let’s watch another one of his videos.

“(Most) Black Women are the reason for the ignorance and killing done by (Most)Black Men”:

One more, “Two baby girls gunned down (92nd & Jeffrey)”:

“Waking Up With Sam Harris #42 – Racism and Violence in America (with Glenn Loury)”

Have now added the books mentioned to my Audible wishlist: On the Run: Fugitive Life in an American City by Alice Goffman and Ghettoside: A True Story of Murder in America by Jill Leovy.

“Unrest at Evergreen State | Glenn Loury & Bret Weinstein”

Now watching: