Published by admin on Fri, 2011-10-14 01:05

An online personals ad read as follows:

I am a 30-year old, single white woman seeking a strong, traditional white man for family building. I am a racially aware Southern gal with Scotch-Irish/Swiss ancestry. I am a graduate of a four-year university but have recovered from the brainwashing. I have worked as a newspaper editor, play traditional Irish and Appalachian fiddle, and like to dance. I am a former county beauty pageant winner, 5’6”, 120 lbs., blue eyes, and have long, red hair. I am ready to have an intelligent, physically fit Anglo man support me in my role as homemaker. I welcome correspondence from racially conscious men.

Margie O’Connor* lives with her grandmother in a small town near Winston-Salem, North Carolina. She has a soft Southern accent and gentle, sincere manner.

In high school, I graduated fifteenth in a class of four hundred. I was the homecoming queen and played three different sports—soccer, tennis, and basketball. I was most valuable player in soccer and tennis, and all-conference in all three sports. I had African American students on my teams and spent a lot of time with them. In those years, I saw myself as enlightened in that I was nonjudgmental about people who were black. Many other people I knew seemed to be pretending as though they didn’t see black and white, but I saw their behavior as patronizing toward blacks. I felt as though I wasn’t even seeing color and that I was treating each person as an individual. After high school, I went on to college and received a degree in psychology and worked as an editor for a newspaper for three years. I wrote several articles that touched on racial matters and some people implied that I was evil and hated black people and was one of those knee -jerk racists that Southern people are stereotyped as being. But I didn’t come from that background at all.

Increasingly after college, I noticed things going on around me that began rubbing me the wrong way—the music that was blasting, television, movies, all the things that were being piped into our culture. It got to the point that it went completely against my grain. I was happy with my culture here—playing traditional music and going over to my ninety-year-old grandmother’s house and hearing her talk about when there was no highway through here, and going over to my great aunt’s house where she made quilts. I embraced what I loved around here and everyone else was talking about the next “Friends” episode and making $60,000 a year. Also, over the past five years there has been a big influx of mixed-race migrant workers here—they work in tobacco—and everything is bilingual now. That has been very disturbing to me.

Two years ago, a friend recommended that I read David Duke’s book [My Awakening]. Reading that book, I saw that Duke isn’t the ogre that he is painted as being. He is a very intelligent and thoughtful and sincere person who at a young age became committed to deal with some very controversial issues. He talked in the book about his childhood—he is Southern, as I am. I felt a kinship with his story. I thought, here is someone I can relate to. Here is someone who, when he was young, instead of getting involved with art or music or sports, got involved with social issues. David Duke’s book helped me put words to what I had been experiencing. Reading that book was a real turning point for me.

About two weeks after I read the Duke book, it just so happened that he was scheduled to speak about thirty minutes from where I live here in North Carolina. That area has a lot of chicken farms and is around fifty percent Hispanic now. Not to get all mystical, but I saw his coming to my area as a sign. I went there and met him and got him to sign my book.

For a long time, I have been disenchanted with the idea of just having a professional career—being a career woman doesn’t appeal to me. Duke’s book has a chapter called “Women and Society,” I think it is, and that helped make it all right for me to say, “I just want to stay home and play music and have a garden.” My mother is on the big kick of me going back and getting my masters degree for some reason. She still doesn’t get it.

Until I read the research Duke presented in his book, I was of the belief that there were no real differences between blacks and whites. I accepted the argument that any differences that we saw were a product of slavery and poverty and the lack of opportunity. If you were to suggest that blacks in Africa seem to have the same problems that blacks do here, I would have said that is was because of the harsh conditions in Africa. But Duke used the example of Iceland, which is a godforsaken place. The white people there have managed to turn it into a thriving economy and livable place. Duke compared Iceland to Haiti. Haiti is a virtual Eden, with ports and natural resources, yet it is like a cesspool.

When I go into town, I get accosted by black men on the street all the time. They make overt comments and just glare and look me up and down. I am now of the belief that that behavior is every bit as much a part of them as the color of their skin. I don’t believe anymore that what they do to me is simply a product of their rearing. And I think there is a difference in intelligence, and in temperament, I guess that is the word for it. To me, an evolutionary argument to explain racial differences, or a good portion of them, is completely reasonable. Duke has a section in his book—not that he developed the material, but that is where I got it—that in human beings, like with any animal species, any trait that enables the species to survive is the one that will be selected. If you evolve in extremely cold conditions, that selects for different traits than if you evolve in an extremely hot, tropical environment. That just makes perfect sense to me. The Duke book goes through my mind whenever I see black people acting as they do.

When I was working at the newspaper, I went out on a limb a few times about the black issue. I cited some violence and rape statistics, and I know that gets controversial. Make the suggestion that black men are more violent and you are going to be called a racist. But you can’t deny that they are committing these crimes and that it’s not getting any better. I think it is best for the happiness of all races, not just the white race, that the races remain separate. I don’t think there is going to be a peaceful world until all the races have their own separate spaces. There is a furniture market around here, and people from all over the world come here to it, to this little city. There is something enchanting about that, to see all the diversity in one place. But then I just want everybody to go home. It is ironic to me that those who praise diversity don’t favor separating the races. Races living together encourages both cultural and physical interbreeding, and that dilutes the uniqueness of each race and blends away their diversity. Nature provides wonderful diversity, and then the diversity advocates take it away—it makes no sense.

I don’t believe race-mixing [interracial coupling and procreation] is a good idea. Really, I have never been attracted to that. Actually, I think if they could peel off the layers of media and school propaganda, practically all white women would feel as I do. So many women I know are taking Zoloft and other anti-depressants. To me, that is a symptom that something is just not right in their lives. They are being conditioned by the media to go in directions, interracial dating being one of them, that aren’t true to their nature and aren’t going to bring them happiness.

The Duke book talked about how the media are basically Jewish dominated, and after re-reading that material and thinking about it, I have come to see that as a major part of the disease in this country. I’ll give you an example: Country music has always been associated with the South and Christianity and people going to church, and it has always tended to be conservative. The country music station that plays videos never had any racy things on it, and on Sundays it always maintained respect for the day. CBS, which is Jewish owned, bought the station and now I see commercials for rap music. This past Christmas, they played a movie that had no Christmas theme at all. It had the most explicit sex scenes that I have ever seen on television.

I don’t necessarily think that Jewish men are sitting around openly saying let’s put these things on television and in the movies to force cultural norms on white people and completely corrupt their whole race so it makes it easier for us to control them. But I now see Jewish people as a separate race, and I have concluded that psychological traits can be as much a part of someone’s being as physical traits. The direction Jewish people take things, I think, is just them, is just a reflection of who they are. And I think it is their strategy for survival and success and that they don’t have to talk about it. They just understand it among themselves. Actually, I am in awe of what they have been able to do considering that they are only two or three percent of the population and yet control most of what people see on television, listen to on the radio, see in the movies, and read in books.

My younger brother is a victim of what is going on in this culture. He’s 6’4” and has broad shoulders. He should be lifting things and working in the fields. But it seems that he, like so many white men, is distracted and—I don’t know quite how to put it—softened, or domesticated, or emasculated somehow. People like my brother evolved from nature. Nature is in their souls. But they are losing touch with that. They are being taken away from things that are real and important to things that are not real and that are trivial. I’m talking about the kinds of lives they see portrayed in the movies and on sitcoms. Nothing disturbs me more than to see a group of white men watching an NBA game and spending all their time idolizing those kinds of people. On MTV, there is a show where they tour celebrity homes. My brother watches it. He sees these black athletes who have multi-million dollar homes and Rolls Royces. For white men like my brother, hardworking men struggling to have something for their families, it makes it seem like what they are doing isn’t as important as what these athletes are doing. The media has made out athletes to be the big heroes of our day because they can put a ball in a net or run with a football. My brother watches that and is affected by it.

Also, all the explicit images you see everywhere now encourage men to think that if they are happy staying home with their wife and kids, they are uncool. If they aren’t hooking up with their mistress on the weekend or going to the strip clubs, something is wrong with them. I think that white men who normally would be happy with a family and a home and having somebody to support them and encourage them feel pressure to do things that deep down they don’t really want to do. But they feel the whole world is doing it, so what’s wrong with them? They think they should be out doing the same thing.

I have some guy friends who, for certain, feel the same way about the race issue as I do. You can see it in their eyes when loud blacks drive by acting, to put it simply, crazy. But they don’t really say anything. And here is where I see white women coming into this. I think white men suppress their views and their true natures about race because they know white women are going to be embarrassed and afraid that the men are going to lose their jobs. The white men know that the women are going to be worried that their friends are going to think, “She’s married to a horrible racist.” I can understand why women want to stay away from the race issue and the immigration issue because they insinuate hate, and women are supposed to be compassionate. Women like things that are pretty, and these can be ugly issues, that’s true, and it is seen as even uglier when a woman speaks of these things than when a man does.

But nevertheless, women need to speak out about these things. If a woman loves her children, she needs to speak out. If she doesn’t want them to be enticed into a base and alien way of life, she needs to speak out. If she cares about her children’s physical safety and her own, she needs to speak out. If she cares whether her children become a minority in their own country, she needs to speak out. With the influx of non-whites into our land, we are losing our cultural identity and unity. White women should be repelled at the idea of our sacred space being turned into an Africa or a Mexico. They ought to be outraged that they and their children are not able to walk on the street without fear of being accosted or raped. Nothing is more important than women letting their men know they support them in dealing honestly with their feelings. At the very least, women can stop being barriers to men confronting this crisis in our lives.

I’ve quit the newspaper and am living with my grandmother. I’m building a small cabin on eight acres of land I bought five years ago. I have plans for a home I’d like to build, and I’d like a big garden. I’ve studied Jefferson’s designs for Monticello for inspiration. To bring in some money, I do temporary work in Winston-Salem, which I’m not real happy with. Taking photographs is a hobby of mine. I’d like to get better at that. I started a novel a couple of years ago and I hope to complete it. The book is a Southern novel and somewhat autobiographical. The whole story is laid out and I have bits of chapters written. I’ve filled several notebooks full of paragraphs and ideas. Someday I would like to get a horse.

I have played and sung music professionally on and off for the past ten years. I’ve written lots of songs, but I’ve never done a CD of them. That is something I would like to do. You definitely have to look a certain way these days to be in the country music business, and I guess I have the right looks. I kind of have a problem with that, though. I mean, you heard me talking about what the media do, and now you hear me talking about wanting to manipulate the media to get my music played on the radio.

I’d like to travel more and I think the music would let me do that. I haven’t traveled a whole lot. I’ve been mostly happy here. I dated someone from the time I was twenty to the time I was twenty-eight. I’m a curious and independent person, but I guess his company made me happy just to do simple things here.

I’d love to have a place that is isolated, with lots of animals and children around and with me free to do my creative things. I had a lot of love and support as a child, and that is what I have to give to the world. My life situation now makes it almost impossible to do any of these things I have talked about. I can’t have the children; I don’t have a husband. But even though right now I don’t have what I want, it is comforting to me to know what it is. I could go on to graduate school or do whatever else I wanted to do, but I am in touch with what makes me happy. I have this picture in my head.

It’s hard right now for me to say, “OK, I’m going to find a husband.” I’m wary of going after it directly like that. I don’t think that is how it works. I think I need to continue to do things that make me happy and he will be there on that path. I feel strange for the ad to be there. I didn’t actually write it. My friend wrote it. He’s known me for a long time. It was his idea. He’s the guy I saw for eight years. I know that must sound very strange that he wrote the ad.

It isn’t a natural thing to be living with your grandma when you are thirty as I am. But she is sort of a surrogate in place of not having a husband. She kind of fills that role a little bit and my mom does too, and I have friends. But really, nobody looks out for me or protects me. That may reflect a general lack of reverence for women nowadays. I think all women want to feel secure, that they are going to be looked after, that there is someone to take up for them. I guess it is just a primitive thing. You want somebody to be there to protect you, to beat up the bad guy. No matter how strong I might think I am, how much I go to the “Y” and work out, there are people who could overtake me in a minute, take me off and I’d never be seen again.