From Male Feminist to White Advocate
I went to a rural part of the Middle East. Seeing the Islamic world up close threw my worldview for a loop. Once, I was party to a casual, hypothetical discussion about raping tourists, which my interlocutor believed was justified by the loose morals of the woman concerned. Most of all, I remember the uncompromising fervor with which another acquaintance defended the Charlie Hebdo attackers. These were normal guys, not terrorists. Later, when I looked into the survey data, I found that their beliefs were relatively common among immigrant Muslims in the West. “How is this supposed to work?” I remember asking myself.
Classroom discussions were always derailed by non-white and/or progressive female students. One example was a diatribe from a black girl about a time a white man had stepped in front of her to board a train, which she saw as emblematic of white, male “entitlement.” Even though I was still a liberal at the time, I had to bite my tongue to keep from sharing some considerably worse experiences with blacks on public transportation.
The incident that contributed most to my white identity was during a discussion of some Marxist text. I asked how the abolition of private property would apply to personal items. A non-white student replied, “We’re coming for your toothbrush, whitey.” The feminist professor and other students laughed and continued. All of these people wanted me to see myself as white. They got their wish. Seeing the precious legacy of my civilization and my forebears attacked, smeared, and “deconstructed” made me realize for the first time that I had a particular culture that didn’t belong to everyone, that I was the rightful heir to a proud and ancient tradition, and that without action, my inheritance would be destroyed. Soon, I was calling myself an “identitarian” and had joined a national white advocacy organization. With the past as our guide, whites can be great again.