How I Discovered My White Identity

This is part of our continuing series of accounts by readers of how they shed the illusions of liberalism and became race realists.

My name is Bill Richards. I’m a high school student in 10th grade. I live in New York City, and from kindergarten through late elementary school, I was just a typical kid who didn’t really think too much about government or politics. Then in the fifth grade, my class had a discussion about “white privilege.” I had never really thought about race before, and didn’t really think my white skin and European heritage was so important. I have ancestors stretching back to America’s time as a British colony, and though I had always thought that was interesting, it never struck me as being essential to my identity. It was more like trivia. One of my teachers informed me that I had white privilege, and that my Anglo-American heritage represents colonialism, white supremacy, slavery, genocide, and war. I replied although my ancestors did own slaves, and fought for the South during the Civil War, that I didn’t support slavery at all. I also pointed out that slavery hurt not just blacks, but whites as well. It devalued their labor just like the illegal immigrants of today.

Those comments angered many of my peers, and their retribution was swift. One day during recess one of my peers physically attacked me while screaming “Nazi! Nazi!” Another kid tripped me, and then my first assailant started kicking me while I was down. The school nurse didn’t do much, and my mother ended up taking me to the hospital later on. There, I learned that my femur was so damaged I would need corrective surgery and time off from school to recover. I finished the academic year largely through a homeschooling program and spent six weeks on crutches. The ordeal was depressing, but I had friends who supported me through it, and once I could walk of my own accord again, I was happy to leave the whole thing behind me.

Then, in the summer of 2015, Dylann Roof shot-up a black church in Charleston, South Carolina. The ensuing war on the Confederate battle flag enraged me. My father’s ancestors — some of whom fought for the Confederacy — lived in South Carolina for generations. I couldn’t stand seeing the flag my ancestors fought under being disrespected and removed left and right. When I started sixth grade that September, I was greeted with a swarm of bullying, anti-white prejudice, and anti-Southern hysteria — even though I was born and raised in Manhattan. As if all that weren’t enough, one of my black classmates claimed I called him the n-word — a total lie. I was sent to the principal’s office as a result. He told me I was no better than David Duke and suspended me. I had never heard of David Duke before, so I looked him up online once I got home. It was through researching him that I discovered I was not the only white person questioning the cliches Americans constantly hear about race and heritage. Eventually I found the American Renaissance YouTube channel — I still remember the first one I saw, “Black Lives Matter: Hysteria and Lies” — and started learning more and more about the reality of race.

I have since switched schools — more than once — but in the Big Apple, the situation is pretty rough for a racially conscious white guy. Suffice it to say there are good days and bad days. Regardless, the communities I have found of like-minded people online have kept me sane — and educated. For that, I will be eternally grateful to American Renaissance and a number of other websites. It really is okay to be white.

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.