Confessions of An Ex White Supremacist

A ll my life I’ve been taught the importance of White nationalism. To protect and honor the White race, to be proud or our culture and to denounce The Jews and Liberals that tells us that we cannot have “White Pride.” My dad watched and despised what non whites were doing to our country-especially Blacks with their high crime rate and barbaric behavior; their animosity towards “The White man” and their unstoppable complaining and charity. With all this talk by my father, I was also shown it as we trotted through the hells of Black neighborhoods which my dad loved to snicker as the “inferior lifestyle of the negro”. Drugs, prostitutes, Thugs, Aid’s and murdering is the negroes worth” he would refresh to me with every God given chance. Of course at 11 years old a boy’s father would be his idol. I watched my dad stand above me at 6’3 with blonde hair and pure ocean blue eyes that shined with all the glory of the Aryan race; a dark swastika on his arm that reminded me of the superiority of the White race. So tell me, how could this happen?   Now I am contempt on confessing my story truthfully, but in order to do so, you must thoroughly understand my stance and how I felt about my race. And if it ****** you off, so be it. Tap into my world.   White people are superior to all, especially Blacks according to how I felt. Not just because I’m White but because they are not equal to us in intelligence, they are not equal to us in beauty and they are not equal to us in accomplishment.  T admired my father and his strong spirit of PC defiance.  It showed the true dignity of the White man. He taught me to be kind to my own people ONLY, because those are your only people, and to carry on the qualities if the White genes.   I started dating in high school of course; had straight A’s and was pretty legit in character and behavior. I was not the stereotypical “angry tattooed bad attitude having skinhead supremacist, unlike my father who was halfway there, But rather nonchalant and regular. I had dark brown medium slice cut hair and the sting of my fathers blue colored look in my eyes. I lived a pretty normal life in a suburban neighborhood and was brought up like any other kid on the block. My mom was not a fanatic of what she called “nonsense” and I would hear the rare arguments between my dad and mom of “what he shouldn’t say” to me.  I was taught to control those feelings inside me for the sake of scrutiny form the liberal Jew controlled world. And not let “poor misguided America ” know. So I played the normal guy, but shivered at the sight of the few nonwhites at my school, and the trash white ****** who dated them. The only time I got to release my frustration was when I wrestled, Especially those Blacks In competition extra curriculum activities at school. I thought about my people and what their people were doing to mines. And I was satisfied at the sound and sight of making their face hit the mat and if I was lucky, drawing blood. Afterwards I would run for the shower wiping away the filth of the disgusting contact and scent scrubbing vigorously for almost an hour. They were one and the same and not my people I can give a damn about them.   Azziriyya was just another uppity imitation polished up negress to me even then as a freshmen in college. I anguished at how she could even be here at this school 95% white. ******* have their own colleges, right? So why do they insist on mixing everything up with us! She was a Black, not measurable to the White person’s intelligence. She won’t make it here long I said to myself. Afterall, she’s not that smart.  She just had to be on a sports scholarship or something like most of her people, the few that were actually in college. Though there was a side of me that didn’t actually want to admit that she was rather pretty, you know... for a Black. Time passed and so did years. Unfortunately, besides 2 other Blacks in my face senior year to start it off, She was the additional colored girl my history class. Things started off peacefully at first, but with Blacks in my presence I was sure there was going to be conflict and drama. And after 2 months, surely it was. For a history report we were assigned partners. I wasn’t present the day they were assigned due to partying and excessive drinking the night before. Coincidently neither was she, sick I guess. So I got the leftovers and she was assigned my partners the next day. Just my luck! I thought. Out of all the people, I get stuck with the Black. I watched her as she walked up to me. She wasn’t like the only other Black girl in one of my classes who was very dark, thick lips and glasses, medium built, with curly kinky hair, but rather… different. She had medium straight dark hair that she always kept pinned in a ponytail with a few strands out up front. She was rather petite for her age to be 21, and her skin was a light shade of golden brown. I tried desperately to get a partner switch before she walked over to no avail. I was stuck.   She walked up to me with that friendly grin on her face which I seen as a cover up…But her smile was rather beautiful I thought. Hey! I might have been tough, but I knew cute when I seen it…doesn’t mean I would date one! “Hi!” she started with that grin. “I really want to get this over with because I have a lot to do, so how are you?” Why is she talking to me I thought, like everything is ok. I waved her off and only replied when I seen the look of disapproval on her face appearing as her smile faded. “Look” I started. “ I can do this alone by myself, there’s nothing you can help me with that I can’t do alone…so you go over there with your people, I’m sure they can use a third hand.” She looked at me awed. You know that look Blacks give you when you said something that “offended” them. “My people? Well my people are at home in Atlanta and I don’t see them in this classroom right now.” I got up and walked away from her not interesting in arguing with her. Class was over and I left.     I looked at the requirements for the report as I sat in the lobby doing nothing and it was quite a lot. Maybe too much. But I could handle it. White men can handle anything. Just then she walked in. How the hell did she find me? What, did she sniff me out?  “Look, I just got done talking to the teacher and she told me that this HAD to be done together. Besides, it’s too much for one person to do.” I thought about it and decided to get my head out of my *** for once. “Ok, we divide this up and- we need to do this together, she interrupted. It’s impossible for us to just pick a part and go our ways because our criteria will be Mitch match”. She seemed be well aware and very highly affirmed. I decided that we could meet on certain days a week to do out report— and when people weren’t around would be best. Days passed, then weeks. I had finally decided that she was an exception to her people. She was positive, well aware, and very intelligent. She was the first girl-the first BLACK especially that made me feel intimidated. As weeks passed she started to notice how I would blow her off at times. One day she finally asked. “Why do you have to be so mean? What did I do to you?” I rolled my eyes and continued to work, but her eyes demanded an answer. “You ain’t done nothing to me; I just don’t want to be around you. Never did, that’s all.” “Then you’d better suck it up and eat it, because I plan on acing this report”.   Several days passed and between conversations we would talk about a lot of things including race. I WAS surprised I had even opened up. I learned a lot actually on what I didn’t know. We would have laughs in between and even just chat about anything. I had always had angry emotions when she walked up to me in the past, but they were beginning to change into other emotions I didn’t recognize as she walked up to me this time. Yes she did have a beautiful smile and her face…Is rather beautiful. I was interested in what she would tell me about Black life or life in general, things I though I knew and things I wanted to know. Besides I didn’t have anything else to do, and she was a very good conversator. After turning in the report I would talk to her still even, a little skeptical of what my friends were thinking however. Why was she making me feel this way? Its not natural...is it? Several days passed and between conversations we would talk about a lot of things including race. I WAS surprised I had even opened up. I learned a lot actually on what I didn’t know. We would have laughs in between and even just chat about anything. I had always had angry emotions when she walked up to me in the past, but they were beginning to change into other emotions I didn’t recognize as she walked up to me this time. Yes she did have a beautiful smile and her face…Is rather beautiful. I was interested in what she would tell me about Black life or life in general, things I though I knew and things I wanted to know. Besides I didn’t have anything else to do, and she was a very good conversator. After turning in the report I would talk to her still even, a little skeptical of what my friends were thinking however. Why was she making me feel this way? Its not natural?     She wasn’t at all what I thought. Or what I expected. I never even expected to feel this way…to feel anyway positive about her. My whole perception was starting to change. Not only one Blacks, but on life. I thought life was just one big liberal front, but such weights were beginning to be lifted. No! I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t betray my people!   There was this, umm, African American guy in my class. Tall guy they called DC. I despised even looking at him with his gritty smile. He was always yapping to some White girl. But the thing that interested me was he was never afraid to approach people at all. Not even ones of another race. I wondered how he could be so open-minded and lively to strangers. A people he had no ties to. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to play liberal and go ask him how he opens up to other races…What? I just wanted to know!   “Hey man why are you always talking to white girls?” He looked at me conspicuously. There were hardly any people around or none that could hear us when he responded. “Well it don’t look like I got many options at this school. Say man, you wanna give me a hand with this box?” On another day I would have obviously said “hell no” but I needed more answers. “Why do you get alone with White people?”  “Huh?” You have nothing in common with them…us,” I replied calmly. He let out a slight chuckle before replying, “Sure we do, we usually like to have fun and play and watch sports, we all require water and can feel pain, and we all like to be loved. I mean, what does race have to do with gettin’ alone with people”. I gave no expression not wanting to admit that he had actually made a bit of a point. And even though he was a Black Basketball player he wasn’t as dumb as I thought he would be. “Dawg, I see you around campus a lot. You be lookin so mad and angry. I mean, what’s with you?” I was awed at how he was so open-minded, outspoken and friendly. After hearing no response He finally asked, “You wanna come up to my dorm later and play some video games?” Although it sounded interesting I declined and left… But she wouldn’t leave my mind. I was starting to like her more and more, but I was cool enough for her not to notice it. She was everything I had ever wanted in a girl, but I was determined to compel myself not to cross those lines. When I would first see her walking up to me in the past, I would immediately get these feelings of anger and disgust, but now… now it was different. It was turning into Joy and excitement. I started to realize that I had no real reason to hate her, whether she was Black or not. That it was only my mind frame and how I viewed the world. I admired her, hell I liked her. No since in hiding out. I figured I’d take that invitation to play video games with DC.   Is it different was the first thing I asked him in his room about dating outside race. “as different as you make it.” So how would you do it? “Just be yourself man. That’s all you can be. Its either she’ll dig you or she won’t.” “Azziriyya is a hot lil chic. She’ll talk to you. Hell you lucky you got to her first!” I looked at him surprised that he had knew. “ yeeea, I see everything”. I chuckled at the sarcasm and relaxed.     Just be yourself was his words, but I still wasn’t sure about the approach. As I talked to her this time the 30 minutes seemed to have flew. “Well I‘m leaving she said as she got up. I softly pulled her by her arm into my chest and kissed her. Her lips were so soft and sweet, and I enjoyed every second of it. She didn’t even try to stop me.   We’d call it an official hook up.   I was very scared. Scared of the world, and definitely scared of my father. I knew I couldn’t tell him. But first I’d have to confess to her what my life was like, my past beliefs, my family. She was very cool with the fact that I had opened up to her and happy she had met me.  A year passed before I was finally able to break it to him that I was in love with her. “daddy don’t hate me”. But it didn’t stop him from practically beating the hell out of me. I was happy I was still alive, but happier Azzirriya wasn’t around. I was sent to the hospital with 2 bruised ribs, a busted lip, a fractured knee, along with 2 Black and blue eyes. As you can imagine I never talk to him much now, he doesn’t even claim me as his son or his beautiful granddaughter that we would later have. My mom is now cool with Azzi, and her mom and mines get along Just fine.   Concluding, dealing with racial issues is very hard. Especially interracial relationships and you probably WILL have problems. But it’s the bad times that make you appreciate the good. I learned a lot along my journey. I and Azzi got married soon after and have been together now for 5 happy years. Most of my family was there surprisingly including hers. But It hurt not to see my father there a little, but it was the happiest day of my life. My friends were very supportive that day…including D.C. I have the storngest relationship with my daugter than I ever did with my father.