“All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent. “ – Thomas Jefferson

In the interest of brevity I will confine my musings to the period of time constituting the Fall semester of my Junior year.

Part I

Scurrying to amass at least twelve semester credits I hurried to my apartment and scoured the class lists looking for chance openings. Since my major was firmly outside the practical sciences, English, I was limited to mostly liberal arts courses (most of the quantitative cores are reserved for students within that particular major). After a great deal of searching I found two classes suited to my needs (not personal, simply something I could take to gain credits): a political science class and a sociology course entitled “White Racism.”

I tried to work my way into the political science class but because it was already heavily over enrolled I had to join “White Racism.” Yes, this course does exist and to my knowledge is still being taught. Even before class began I questioned my decision, what with books entitled American Racism, and White Racism it was all too clear what this semester’s course work would entail. At the time I was a political moderate and sensing no imminent threat from an outside entity I felt content being politically aloof. That is until I sat down in White Racism.

Almost immediately I was made to understand that my opinion in this class did not matter. I was to sit down, listen and parrot back what I heard…even if I felt that what I was learning was not truthful or honest. The professor was a mulatto, of what mixture I am not certain, and extremely ill tempered, especially toward White students. At one point in the semester we were asked to document an act of racism that affected our lives. The professor laughed indignantly that us White students would probably have to think a bit to come up with something…because, after all, we are the progenitors of racism the whole world over! Surely racism could never be perpetrated against us!

I sat in my apartment bereft of ideas. I wondered how the assignment he gave us could be legitimate. “Stefan, have you ever experienced racism?” I asked myself. The answer was “no.” The distinction I failed to make at the time was that I had not experienced my professor’s conception of racism. Racism as defined by the left, as we all know, is predicated on a White aggressor – there is no other way for it to occur. The word is ill-suited to define our struggle so therefore I had nothing to write about. I began to see that my professor had set me, and every other White student in the class, up to fail. The assignment supposes that the student is of some minority race, and not of the White continuity. How could I even dare write about racism? I am White…I cause racism…I don’t comment on racism! Silly Whitey!

After an hour I had had enough. The next day I handed in a blank sheet of paper. I explained to my professor that I had not experienced racism, not once in my life. He smiled and nodded and explained to me that that was the basis of the assignment, to demonstrate to White students that they cannot fully understand racism because they have not been subjected to it. That despite everything I just could not comprehend his idea of “racism.” I was awarded an A, believe it or not. I was dumbfounded.

If this moron was trying to heal “racism” he was doing an awfully poor job of it, if anything his curriculum did everything it could possibly do to polarize and ostracize Whites. Shortly after the assignment I had an epiphany. I wanted to rework my assignment almost immediately. I sat down and began to write. Finally! I had in fact encountered racism and it was this asshole’s class that had perpetrated it. I finished my new, revised essay and handed it in.

I detailed my thoughts on his class, mentioning that his very swagger exuded his tangible hatred of Whites. The overbearing “jazz” he’d blast at the commencement of class only added to the consistent anti-White sentiment he sought to spread. I also tossed in detailed directions on how to correctly use powerpoint because it was something this nigger clearly could not do.

From then on we did not get along well. Every chance he got he’d shoot me angry glances, and mention my essay (anonymously of course). I would freely read the newspaper in class, often times neglecting to remove my headphones. There were a few other students who felt similarly and followed suit. I am not sure the grade they received, but mine, despite meeting every requirement given to me, was barely passing.

Later on another professor within the sociology dept. expressed his distaste for the professor in question. He even detailed an encounter in which he was accused of racism! I could not believe the extent this man went to to agitate and polarize the campus. It was astounding! I had yet to stumble upon VNN, but my journey had begun. I was not going to bite the anti-White lefty line anymore. That part of my life was through.