Through this series, I've ranted and rambled about my personal history. Hopefully, this gives non-Jews some perspective on why Jews see themselves (ourselves?) as both White and Non-White. It's because sometimes we're treated as White and sometimes as Non-White.
Yes, it's gross when you see a Jew on Twitter apologizing for being (((White))) one minute and then castigating all Whites the next. But it's not just a strategic issue, it's a dual identity issue.
After all, I'm Jewish enough for Auschwitz but not Jewish enough for Israel. Who does someone like me sympathize with? Anti-Semitic rhetoric makes me nervous, but so does Anti-White rhetoric. If the Revolution comes, I have no disillusions about where I'll stand. The Radical Left might not have the engineering competence to build gas chambers, but do you really think they'll hesitate to shoot you for your side-curls and tassels?
So, I know which side I'm on. Whites may have had trouble understanding who I am, but they've also treated me fairly, with only the rarest of exceptions. While I grew up rubbing elbows with legitimately racist Whites, they've always been (lol) the minority.
So while I get the (((White Person))) problem, I don't sympathize with (((White Person))) politics. Do you really think that the fraction of a percent of White People that want to gas Jews are more threatening than the Muslim world? Do you really think that the civilization that has done more to defend and uplift Jews than any other since Cyrus the Great is a threat?
Look, if this was still pre-WWII times, I might get it to an extent. But as you're so fond of reminding us, it's the current year. America and Europe want to like us. Like, to an embarrassing degree, especially when it comes to Protestants. Certainly more than we deserve, given the extent to which prominent Jews have been complicit in undermining Western Civilization.
Again, I get it. I'm not a neutral witness. As a Christian with Jewish blood in my veins, the average Jew probably finds me more hateful than David Duke. I'm less welcome in the ethnostate than Osama Ford Hitler. But really, in your heart of hearts, are you really so angry at the Blond Goy Jocks at your High School that you want to destroy your Greatest/Only Ally?
I'm not even certain who I'm ranting to at this point. I don't know if there is a point. What I'm trying to say is that when liberal Jews vacillate between being Jewish and (((White))), it's not a deceit. Well, it's not purely a deceit. They know that they'll never be White, but they also know that they'll never be not-White. They know that they'll never be accepted into the WASP club, but they also know they'll never be truly trusted as part of the Rainbow Coalition.
Too White for the Non-Whites. Too Non-White for the Whites. Perhaps driven mad by our inability to escape the politics of race. Thus, (((White))).
But then, I'll never really know what it is to be (((White))). And maybe that's who I'm trying to speak out for. For the Jews who want nothing to do with the lemming-march to destruction. Because maybe we have the slightest chance to help turn this bitch around before it implodes in race war.
Anyway, that's the end of my foray into talking about EGS. Here's hoping it'll be a long time before it comes up again.
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Friday, October 12, 2018
Dear Fellow (((White People))) Part Three
I still remember my Grandmother's funeral. For a variety of deeply personal reasons. But one thing I remember is finding out that I could never be buried in a Jewish cemetery because I was a Christian. For that matter, my Father could never be buried with his parents because he had accepted Jesus as the Messiah.
That wasn't the end of my experiences with being Jewish but not-Jewish. But frankly, it would have been enough. My Gentile friends back in West Virginia might joke about me being a Jew, but they accepted me for who I was. To be frank, they loved me. Outside of my immediate family (who I must stress, never gave me anything but love), the Jewish community had nothing but contempt for me.
I don't want to single out the Jews. The other parts of my extended family also viewed me and my siblings as different. But they also never threw me out of my goddamn Grandparents' apartment while my Grandfather was grieving. They also never told me I could never be buried with my family.
Now, I'm venting this part of my personal history because it's something I want to get off my chest. But I'm also venting it because it touches on why Jews sometimes view themselves as White and sometimes as Non-White.
When I was in High School, I was the most ethnically diverse person in my class. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's not that unusual of a situation for a Jew. There are times when all of the people around you look at you and say, "You're different because you're not White."
At the same time, when I was in University, I got the same lambasting about how I was an Evil White Male from my Professors that the most Scotch-Irish motherfucker in West Virginia ever got. There are times when all of the people around you look at you and say, "You're 110% White."
I've lived in Japan for over five years, and in the entire time I've been here, no one has seen me as anything other than White. I've even been called Blond on multiple occasions, which is something that could really only happen in Asia. I'm about as Blond as Adolph Hitler, although according to your local Rabbi, I'm also just as welcome to sit shiva.
So what I'm saying is, I kind of get it when my fellow Jews (who 100% do not accept me as Jewish) sometimes refer to themselves as White and sometimes as Not-White. That's just part of growing up Jewish. To a White Supremacist, you're not White. To the Black, Asian, or Hispanic neighbors across the street, you're completely White. And to the State of Israel, it kind of depends on whether or not you accept Jesus as the Messiah.
Okay, we'll finish this up next time.
That wasn't the end of my experiences with being Jewish but not-Jewish. But frankly, it would have been enough. My Gentile friends back in West Virginia might joke about me being a Jew, but they accepted me for who I was. To be frank, they loved me. Outside of my immediate family (who I must stress, never gave me anything but love), the Jewish community had nothing but contempt for me.
I don't want to single out the Jews. The other parts of my extended family also viewed me and my siblings as different. But they also never threw me out of my goddamn Grandparents' apartment while my Grandfather was grieving. They also never told me I could never be buried with my family.
Now, I'm venting this part of my personal history because it's something I want to get off my chest. But I'm also venting it because it touches on why Jews sometimes view themselves as White and sometimes as Non-White.
When I was in High School, I was the most ethnically diverse person in my class. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's not that unusual of a situation for a Jew. There are times when all of the people around you look at you and say, "You're different because you're not White."
At the same time, when I was in University, I got the same lambasting about how I was an Evil White Male from my Professors that the most Scotch-Irish motherfucker in West Virginia ever got. There are times when all of the people around you look at you and say, "You're 110% White."
I've lived in Japan for over five years, and in the entire time I've been here, no one has seen me as anything other than White. I've even been called Blond on multiple occasions, which is something that could really only happen in Asia. I'm about as Blond as Adolph Hitler, although according to your local Rabbi, I'm also just as welcome to sit shiva.
So what I'm saying is, I kind of get it when my fellow Jews (who 100% do not accept me as Jewish) sometimes refer to themselves as White and sometimes as Not-White. That's just part of growing up Jewish. To a White Supremacist, you're not White. To the Black, Asian, or Hispanic neighbors across the street, you're completely White. And to the State of Israel, it kind of depends on whether or not you accept Jesus as the Messiah.
Okay, we'll finish this up next time.
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
Different This Time, Baby
I know everyone's seen this train wreck already:
Peterson pulled the "It's just a social experiment, Bro!" card and claimed he was trying to think of a way to reduce tensions between the Left and Right. It was a transparent walk away from the backlash, naturally. It was amusing he thought he could fill the roll of the "genius healer" we apparently all need.
But it was more interesting to see that excuse followed up by this:
Is this the next narrative pitch coming down at us from the Left? "If you just start losing again, things can go back to normal. We'll totally start being civil, nice, and reasonable if you stop all of this nasty winning. Can't you see you're forcing us to be mean?"Apparently they think we're tired of winning, or at least tired of fighting.
It's probably projection on their part. They are absolutely getting tired of having an actual fight and so is everyone they know. Even the RINO quislings they rub shoulders with are tired of readjusting their bowties. And since that's the only Right they know personally, they assume we're all feeling drained instead of invigorated.
They're emotionally exhausted and battered by loss after loss after loss. Even by cranking up the crazy and throwing larger and larger tantrums, they're not getting their way. So of course they want to deescalate - or rather, they want us to deescalate so they can go back to a quiet war where no one fights back.
I can see how this pitch might work on Centrists, RINOs, and the most cowardly Civ-Nats. "Listen guys, the Left has totally learned their lesson and they'll never be mean or try to destroy the lives of innocent men again." Maybe there are a few Boomers hoping for a peaceful Thanksgiving with their psychotic daughters-in-law that'll go for it.
I'm not sure how hard or long the Usual Suspects are going to push this meme. I hope it's a big part of their new strategy for the Midterms now that Kavanaugh is confirmed. It's a wonderful mixture of childish ("You owe us a win! It's our turn to win!") and a transparent lie ("It'll be different this time, baby!") that not even the Republicans can lose to it.
Now, there also seems to be a strong current of "Now that Kavanaugh is in, we are justified in being as violent as we want" going around. My guess is that we're in A/B testing for now while the Left sees which message has legs. Of course, it's possible they'll target one message outwards ("We'll be nice this time") and one message inwards ("We can be as violent as we want"), which is the best case scenario.
Dear Fellow (((White People))) Part Two
I grew up in West Virginia, but my parents grew up in New York, New York. Brooklyn, to be specific.
It was a summertime tradition when my siblings and I were growing up to take a pilgrimage back to the Motherland for a week or so. We would stay in Grandma's house in Brooklyn, walk the mean streets, and eat the best pizza on planet Earth.
Driving over the Brooklyn Bridge into the Old Country was always something special back then. While I was culturally Southern and West Virginian (I still have a touch of that back-country accent to this day), I also grew up never meeting a person who looked like me who wasn't a blood relative. But that was different in New York. In New York, I could look out the window of our minivan and see people who looked like me walking the streets.
Of course, there were also Blacks and Russians and Chinese walking the streets, but the point was it wasn't 99.8% Scotch-Irish. It was a window into another world much different from the world I spent 99.9% of my life in. In West Virginia, I was a minority beyond reckoning. In New York, I was still out of place, but culturally instead of ethnically.
Now, I want to be very clear about something. My Jewish extended family never made me feel like an outsider or inferior in any way. This is something I can't say about my non-Jewish extended family. So it wasn't until I was relatively older that I started to understand that I wasn't "really" Jewish.
When I was about 10 years old (11? 12?) my Grandmother died. She was one of the sweetest, most loving women that I have ever known. Her family was Jewish, from Poland. Amusingly, they were kicked out of the country a few years before World War II because Great-Grandpa was a horse thief. So the only reason that branch of the family survived the Holocaust was because they were running from the law.
Now, until my Grandmother died, the only Jews I had had contact with were blood relatives. And again, they never showed me or my siblings anything but love, despite the fact that my Father had converted to Christianity and raised us as Christians. So I never had any sense of antipathy towards my Jewish heritage. If anything, in the Fundamentalist Protestant Wonderland of West Virginia, it made me something closer to a local celebrity than an outcast.
And then my Grandmother died.
My Grandfather was not born Jewish, but converted in order to marry my Grandmother. And when my Grandmother died, we piled into the mini-van and drove up to Brooklyn for the funeral.
Now you need to understand, while I grew up knowing that I was Jewish, my exposure to Jewish culture was strictly limited to matzah and Manischewitz. Hell, I have to rely on spellcheck to type those two right. My Grandparents were fond of making Hypocrite Stuffing for Thanksgiving, a turkey stuffing rich with pork products and irony. So ceremonial cleanliness was not something I was used to.
So imagine this. It's my Grandparents' small apartment in the Brooklyn projects. My Grandmother, one of the best people I have ever known, has just died. My Father is comforting my Grandfather as we kids are doing our best to hold it together. The front door opens. Grim-faced men in black hats and side-curls come into the apartment, men who I have never met before in my life, come into my Grandparents' apartment and demand that we leave.
As a preteen, I have no frame of reference for this. Who are these strange men to come into my Grandparents' apartment, where I have spent every summer of my life, and demand that we leave? In my Grandfather's moment of grief? In my Father's moment of grief? In my moment of grief? And yet, my Father ushers us kids out. On the way to my mother's family's house, he explains. These men are here to sit shiva for my Grandmother, and as Christian half-breeds, our presence would defile the apartment.
Now, I had read enough of the Old Testament as a child to kind of get the general idea. But I had also grown up my entire life being looked at as different for being a Jew. In West Virginia, being 1/4 Jewish made me an outsider, marked out as different and strange. And now, for the first time, being 3/4 Gentile made me the same thing.
What was I? Who was I? Who the fuck were these Rabbi-looking mother fuckers to kick me out of my Grandparent's apartment? I was used to getting strange looks for not being White. I was not used to being treated like trash for not being Jewish enough.
It was a summertime tradition when my siblings and I were growing up to take a pilgrimage back to the Motherland for a week or so. We would stay in Grandma's house in Brooklyn, walk the mean streets, and eat the best pizza on planet Earth.
Driving over the Brooklyn Bridge into the Old Country was always something special back then. While I was culturally Southern and West Virginian (I still have a touch of that back-country accent to this day), I also grew up never meeting a person who looked like me who wasn't a blood relative. But that was different in New York. In New York, I could look out the window of our minivan and see people who looked like me walking the streets.
Of course, there were also Blacks and Russians and Chinese walking the streets, but the point was it wasn't 99.8% Scotch-Irish. It was a window into another world much different from the world I spent 99.9% of my life in. In West Virginia, I was a minority beyond reckoning. In New York, I was still out of place, but culturally instead of ethnically.
Now, I want to be very clear about something. My Jewish extended family never made me feel like an outsider or inferior in any way. This is something I can't say about my non-Jewish extended family. So it wasn't until I was relatively older that I started to understand that I wasn't "really" Jewish.
When I was about 10 years old (11? 12?) my Grandmother died. She was one of the sweetest, most loving women that I have ever known. Her family was Jewish, from Poland. Amusingly, they were kicked out of the country a few years before World War II because Great-Grandpa was a horse thief. So the only reason that branch of the family survived the Holocaust was because they were running from the law.
Now, until my Grandmother died, the only Jews I had had contact with were blood relatives. And again, they never showed me or my siblings anything but love, despite the fact that my Father had converted to Christianity and raised us as Christians. So I never had any sense of antipathy towards my Jewish heritage. If anything, in the Fundamentalist Protestant Wonderland of West Virginia, it made me something closer to a local celebrity than an outcast.
And then my Grandmother died.
My Grandfather was not born Jewish, but converted in order to marry my Grandmother. And when my Grandmother died, we piled into the mini-van and drove up to Brooklyn for the funeral.
Now you need to understand, while I grew up knowing that I was Jewish, my exposure to Jewish culture was strictly limited to matzah and Manischewitz. Hell, I have to rely on spellcheck to type those two right. My Grandparents were fond of making Hypocrite Stuffing for Thanksgiving, a turkey stuffing rich with pork products and irony. So ceremonial cleanliness was not something I was used to.
So imagine this. It's my Grandparents' small apartment in the Brooklyn projects. My Grandmother, one of the best people I have ever known, has just died. My Father is comforting my Grandfather as we kids are doing our best to hold it together. The front door opens. Grim-faced men in black hats and side-curls come into the apartment, men who I have never met before in my life, come into my Grandparents' apartment and demand that we leave.
As a preteen, I have no frame of reference for this. Who are these strange men to come into my Grandparents' apartment, where I have spent every summer of my life, and demand that we leave? In my Grandfather's moment of grief? In my Father's moment of grief? In my moment of grief? And yet, my Father ushers us kids out. On the way to my mother's family's house, he explains. These men are here to sit shiva for my Grandmother, and as Christian half-breeds, our presence would defile the apartment.
Now, I had read enough of the Old Testament as a child to kind of get the general idea. But I had also grown up my entire life being looked at as different for being a Jew. In West Virginia, being 1/4 Jewish made me an outsider, marked out as different and strange. And now, for the first time, being 3/4 Gentile made me the same thing.
What was I? Who was I? Who the fuck were these Rabbi-looking mother fuckers to kick me out of my Grandparent's apartment? I was used to getting strange looks for not being White. I was not used to being treated like trash for not being Jewish enough.
Monday, October 8, 2018
Dear Fellow (((White People))) Part One
Today I’d like to talk a little about something that I don’t like to talk about at all: my ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation. Specifically, I’d like to talk about why I'm going to talk about them.
I'm on the record about why I don't like talking about my EGS. And yet, enough has happened since I made that statement that I'm willing to change my position. So today, I'm going to do something that I have specifically avoided in order to address something that most (((whites))) don't like to address head on.
If you've been on the internet in the last year or so, you probably know where I'm going with (((this))). I want to talk about why Jews sometimes refer to themselves as White and sometimes as non-White.
But in order to get there, first I need to talk about who I am and why I feel comfortable addressing this issue. I am 1/4 Jewish Christian, or in other words, Jewish enough for Hitler but not Jewish enough for Israel. The irony of this is not lost on me.
I grew up in West Virginia, which is one of the whitest, most Christian States in the Union. And I grew up in the 80s, when the non-White population of West Virginia was even higher than it is now. In my Elementary School class photos, I stick out like a big-nosed, dark-skinned, non-blond thumb.
One of my earliest childhood memories is one of my teachers saying that if we had been born before Jesus, everyone in my class would have been going to Hell except me. And how my classmates looked at me. That's the sort of thing that stays with you.
When I was in High School, I took part in a Competitive Preaching competition. Yes, that's a thing. I gave a fiery sermon on the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels. Afterwards, one of my classmates came up to me and said that they were surprised I was willing to preach from the Gospels because I'm Jewish. This was after years of arguing the finer parts of Christian doctrine with my classmates for years. That's what we're dealing with here.
I remember working at a temp agency in college during the summers. Almost every job started with my co-workers asking "What are you?" Not "What's your ethnicity?" or "What race are you?" but, "What are you?" As if I was a thing, not a person.
And the thing about it was, I was accustomed enough to this question to find it amusing. Because frankly, it was a legitimate question in West Virginia. I grew up not knowing a single person like me who wasn't an immediate blood relative. So when someone asked me "What are you?" frankly, I sympathized. What was I?
Because again, frankly, this was something that my encounters with Judaism left me questioning.
I'm on the record about why I don't like talking about my EGS. And yet, enough has happened since I made that statement that I'm willing to change my position. So today, I'm going to do something that I have specifically avoided in order to address something that most (((whites))) don't like to address head on.
If you've been on the internet in the last year or so, you probably know where I'm going with (((this))). I want to talk about why Jews sometimes refer to themselves as White and sometimes as non-White.
But in order to get there, first I need to talk about who I am and why I feel comfortable addressing this issue. I am 1/4 Jewish Christian, or in other words, Jewish enough for Hitler but not Jewish enough for Israel. The irony of this is not lost on me.
I grew up in West Virginia, which is one of the whitest, most Christian States in the Union. And I grew up in the 80s, when the non-White population of West Virginia was even higher than it is now. In my Elementary School class photos, I stick out like a big-nosed, dark-skinned, non-blond thumb.
One of my earliest childhood memories is one of my teachers saying that if we had been born before Jesus, everyone in my class would have been going to Hell except me. And how my classmates looked at me. That's the sort of thing that stays with you.
When I was in High School, I took part in a Competitive Preaching competition. Yes, that's a thing. I gave a fiery sermon on the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels. Afterwards, one of my classmates came up to me and said that they were surprised I was willing to preach from the Gospels because I'm Jewish. This was after years of arguing the finer parts of Christian doctrine with my classmates for years. That's what we're dealing with here.
I remember working at a temp agency in college during the summers. Almost every job started with my co-workers asking "What are you?" Not "What's your ethnicity?" or "What race are you?" but, "What are you?" As if I was a thing, not a person.
And the thing about it was, I was accustomed enough to this question to find it amusing. Because frankly, it was a legitimate question in West Virginia. I grew up not knowing a single person like me who wasn't an immediate blood relative. So when someone asked me "What are you?" frankly, I sympathized. What was I?
Because again, frankly, this was something that my encounters with Judaism left me questioning.
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