Black Lives Do Matter: They’re Walking, Talking Redpills
by Basil Ransom
I AM A member of the prosecutor’s office in a small Southern county that remains almost ninety percent White. We are blessed to have very little violent crime, but this is beginning to change, due largely to a marginal increase (from less than two per cent) in the Black population over the past year. Recently, one of our new colored residents stabbed another Black to death in a trivial dispute. The murderer’s trial is approaching, so my office must listen to the recordings of all of the hundreds of phone calls that he has made from jail since his arrest. One of those phone calls gives us an extraordinarily telling glimpse into the Black psyche.
The murderer and his Black girlfriend (who, by the way, was dating his victim when he was killed) are Muslims. Many Blacks made their way to Islam as a conscious rejection of the White Christian nation that they despise. Amid pidgin Arabic and shouts of “Black power,” the two Blacks began to celebrate the Black supremacism on the rampage throughout our country today, under the aegis of “Black Lives Matter.” They described nationwide looting as “revenge” for the 1921 Tulsa race riot. That event, almost a century ago, might seem obscure to you and I, but to these two Blacks it is more important than 9/11. Though its causes remain murky, by now irretrievably sunken under the weight of an immense mountain of propaganda, it was certainly not what it has been made out to be. In any case, the Black neighborhood that saw the greatest damage was colloquially referred to as “the Black Wall Street,” much as Blacks refer to Howard University as “the Black Harvard.” The two Blacks on this phone call evidently believe from this moniker that the Black section of Tulsa was some sort of magnificent economic powerhouse, a literal rival to the real Wall Street. They declared that, had evil, jealous Whites not burned it all down, Blacks would have achieved greatness.
They went on to call Whites “the real looters,” because, they contend, Whites stole all of their wealth from them and “bombed and burned out” successful Black businesses and neighborhoods. The murderer’s girlfriend stated (the reader will please excuse the atrocious Black grasp on the English language) that “the reason we don’t got nothing is your ancestors took it all from us, and yo’ system keep us down.” America is “Satan land,” and it is up to Blacks to “cast the devil out.” In line with the “Wakanda” fake history and incomprehensible conspiracy theories to which this race without a single achievement to its name must resort, the two Blacks asserted that Jesus was Black, that the Ku Klux Klan “invented the police to keep the Black man enslaved,” that the Chinese coronavirus was created to wipe out Blacks, and, last but not least, that the violence committed by “Black Lives Matter” in the 1,619 riots enveloping the nation was actually carried out by agents of the “White supremacist” American government. Most concerningly, the two Blacks stated that “racism” is the White man’s God, and that (again, excuse the Black butchery of English grammar) “it’s been a war on racism ever since the White man been created.” The murderer’s girlfriend said that she wants to buy a bulletproof vest for this “war,” and continued that “if I had a gun, a lot of these White motherf___ing pig cops would be dead… we gon’ kill ’em. They need to die because they so evil.” She went on, promising to “Black power” anyone who stands in her way. She believes that White men say things like, “We will kill your sons, take your females, rape them, breed them, and do whatever we want with them, and y’all can’t do nothin’ about it ’cause y’all inferior.” I can assure her with the utmost certainty that we do not want Black women, nor do we wish to “breed” with them. In the same vein, the charming coloreds asserted that White men are consumed with jealousy for the Black penis. How did they arrive at this conclusion? The murderer repeatedly exposes himself to jail guards, who are quite understandably incensed at the offense. Why? These geniuses believe it must be because the sight of his member shames them. Welcome to the Black mind.
If you’re reading this, you must surely know that Blacks simply hate Whites. “Hate” seems to me to be an understatement, for it is really an indescribable rage. We know what Blacks do to Whites when they are unrestrained; indeed, there are tens of thousands of innocent Americans whose gruesome murders can attest to what Blacks are capable of even when they are “restrained.”
I wasn’t always racially aware. I grew up in the same county in which I work, at a time when it was nearly one hundred percent White, rather than ninety. Thus, I had no exposure whatsoever to Blacks. I was a good liberal; I was a fan of Howard Zinn, I watched Rachel Maddow every night, and I donated my time and money to the Barack Hussein Obama campaign. I truly believed that the races were qualitatively the same, that our only difference was pigmentation.
Everything changed when I moved to one of America’s largest cities for college, my particular city being about one-third Black. I saw the nasty, brutish, vulgar lives of putrescence that the unintelligible Blacks embodied. I saw the neighborhoods that proud White families had poured their blood, sweat, and tears into to make their homes, turned into war-torn, dilapidated ruins, with young Blacks wantonly massacring each other over less than one block of cracked asphalt. I saw Blacks ogle White girls as they walked to class. My girlfriend’s apartment was broken into. Another acquaintance was unfortunate enough to be home in his shower while his apartment was ransacked, and they beat his naked body senseless. My cousin was abducted at gunpoint and driven to multiple ATMs to withdraw as much cash as possible; by the grace of God, she was released unharmed. One of my friends had his phone stolen right out of his hands as he sat on the bus. Any White man stupid enough to ride the subway was taking his life in his hands, and could expect at the very least to be subjected to wild verbal abuse by homeless psychopathic Blacks. I didn’t let my girlfriend ride the subway. I was nearly mugged once, but outran the thug. Another time, I am ashamed to say that I was stumbling drunk; a Black man in his forties pulled his shirt up, revealing a handgun. The drink in me did the talking, and I blustered myself out of the situation.
I saw that “White privilege” was a farce. Black privilege, however, was very real. Too real. Blacks have everything handed to them on a golden platter; if a Black goes to prison, we know that he belongs there, because he had at least ten chances to avoid it. And yet, still, Blacks believed that they were “oppressed.” Once, my parents visited me. We had an expensive lunch in an upscale part of the downtown area, and as we waited for our rideshare, a Black man approached us. I was keenly aware of the fact that I was unarmed; being in a one-party state, Black criminals owned guns while Whites were forbidden. I ignored the Black. He looked to my father, and he also ignored the brute. My mother, on the other hand, is a sweet Southern woman. Naïvely, she asked the ruffian what his ankle monitor was for. Eventually, she gave him some money. He then proceeded to call us “racist.” I had had enough. Stricken with insensible stupidity, I confronted him, pointing out that he had some gall to call us “racist” after we had just given him money. Things continued to escalate, he threatened to murder us, and a waiter from the restaurant called the police. God only knows what would have happened otherwise.
One of my good friends recently asked me how I had “gotten into racialism.” I told him, and he replied by suggesting that racial differences stem from “economic” differences. He believes that explicitly embracing White identity is “in poor taste.” I replied that the incessant barrage of vitriol, rape, and murder that Whites are subjected to 24/7 is what is really “in poor taste,” that “taste” and “civility” is exactly what got us where we are today. It is high time, indeed long past time, for Whites to practice the identity and grievance politics that “conservatives” like David French and Rich Lowry so abhor. America is a White nation. There are no non-White Americans. We must speak out as Whites, for Whites, and Whites alone, consequences be damned. Soon, it will be too late. The time for compromise is far gone, if indeed there ever was one. While we sing “kumbaya” with “our Black brothers and sisters,” they’re singing “Kill the Boer.”
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