A Letter from a Concerned Australian Reader

Daily Stormer
May 4, 2015


I have a problem that has been going on for years. I married a woman whose sister married a black, and she knows but can’t accept my views. We have a child together and live in a small community in the country, although neither of us have any real ties or friendships either here or back where we’re from. All either of us has is each other and our families, which is probably why the problem is so intractable.

She is not politically correct and to an extent goes along with my opinions. As an example, we watched all five hours of Hitler: The Greatest Story Never Told together and she responded favourably to the film’s message. She doesn’t care about “refugees” and opposes same sex marriage and other instances of blatant anti-traditional social engineering. She will even express sadness about the decline of our race and nation in terms that, I guess, she has learnt from me. For example, on ANZAC day (we’re Australian), she remarked how sad it is that this is all we have left as a people, that it’s the only expression of identity we are allowed, and so on.

But as I said, the fly in the ointment is that her sister is married to a black man she met while doing volunteer work in Kenya, digging wells and so on. And they have just had a second child.

A word about me and where I stand. I try my best to stand firm and keep to my principles as a white nationalist. However, I have faced a lot of social opprobrium over the years which has led to almost all my friends deserting me. My family barely tolerates my opinions. It doesn’t matter how articulate or well-informed I am, I am talking about rounding up and deporting their friends, family members and neighbours. Yes, the sad truth is that my former friends and family are all to a greater or lesser extent enmeshed in multiracialism. They live in multiracial neighbourhoods and don’t seem to mind, they have friends of different races, and obviously in my wife’s case, family members also who have fully embraced racial suicide with 100% support from those around them.

Sociologically I find it fascinating. Even my wife’s grandparents have nothing negative to say about it. In one breath it’s “Asians are taking over this neighbourhood!” and in the next it’s “Aww, what a beautiful little Caramello Koala* you’ve got there!). There’s just no getting through to them.

So this is the background. Then this morning my wife shows me a picture of her new friend from mothers’ group. I should add that the nearest regional centre to where we live is almost unbelievably multiracial. You see gangs of Afghanis wandering around waiting for their asylum claims to be processed, interracial couples everywhere… And this friend of hers is a blonde haired, blue eyed Aryan whose newly-taken surname is Singh. So she shows me a happy snap of the model family and says, “Sikhs, they’re not like Muslims, are they?”

I pause and consider my options. “Well, they’re not Australian,” I say between gritted teeth.

I knew this was coming. She sees me reading the Daily Stormer every day before I go off to work, and she was recently forced to endure my public shame as my oldest friend slagged me off on facebook for posting anti-gay and anti negro riot videos. The wounds are fresh. So we had a huge argument in which she kept on saying I should just “be happy with what I’ve got” and “let go of hate,” and asking me “What can you do about any of this? How does it affect your daily life?” This is a woman who less than a week ago watched the White Rabbit video “How Whites Took Over America,” by the way, and to all appearances got the message.

I can’t stress enough that this is a woman who most of the time is on side with us, or talks as if she is. This is also the woman I am married to, with a beautiful white child who I don’t want brainwashed into accepting interracial relationships as he grows up. I mean, Kevin MacDonald has so often said that as this generation gets older and starts thinking about the future of its families… God, I’m that close to despair!

It’s really hard for me to stand up for what I believe in. I can’t help it. Part of me feels that maybe I am wrong after all, maybe I am motivated by hatred and egotism. Even my own mother thinks so. But then, many times I’ve tried to give up white nationalism. It’s kind of a joke, because—and here I am making a confession which will probably damn me in most of your eyes—the lack of social support I have has led me several times to try and just fit in, while spitting out the grosser chunks of bullshit. “Sure, there’s a lot of anti-white propaganda out there. But maybe whites can continue to exist as a somewhat permeable group in the multiracial society of the future… After all, I wouldn’t want to deny my “nephews” their full humanity or their right to belong in the country in which they were born!” You see what I am up against?!

But then I keep coming back to the fact that—well, you know the Mantra. No, not the double-negative laden catchphrase, but the one that is easy to grasp: “Diversity is a code-word for white genocide.”

I just don’t know what to do with all those brown and half-yellow kids. I think it would only be fair for their non-white parents’ counties to take them, since they’re not the ones threatened with genocide, and whites are only, what, 9% of the world’s population, and declining? I want a just solution for all, but I don’t want to be morally blackmailed. Why is that so hard?!

When I sit and think of how the powers that be have inflicted these hard, invidious choices on us, I seethe with rage. My wife sees that, and worries. I worry about our marriage, and I worry about the future of our people. When I see how close I am to capitulating—I, the born contrarian, who never failed to doubt a mainstream position or think things through for himself—I am filled with despair! How can I stand up for my extended family when my own family doesn’t want to know me? When my own wife would be happy to see our son marry an Asian when he grows up, “as long as he’s happy”? Because that is how normal, everyday white people think. We are not Jews. We don’t and can’t approximate the intensity of their ethnocentrism. That is what’s got us into this mess to begin with. Are we really “too good for this world”?

So I ask you, what can we do? What can I do? I so badly want a solution that will enable me to sleep at night, to love my family, to have some hope for the future. Because at the moment I am toying with suicide. Only toying, mind you, because if I was the sort to slit my wrists I would have done it already. But I’m not. It’s probably the same trait that makes me incapable of giving up on our people, despite their unparalleled ethnomasochism (and yes, I know all about the Jew and his brainwashing, and Taanstafl’s quite reasonable take on the situation). I can’t give up and I can’t abandon the “fight,” even though–as my wife likes to point out–there’s nothing I can do, short of pledging a few dollars of our family’s meagre funds to pro-white causes–all the while knowing that Jews, by putting their money where their mouth is, are able to control more than half the world’s political systems! I can’t even do my bit in our small movement for fear of a life-disrupting altercation like the one I’ve just endured this morning.

I know there will be readers who take this as confirmation for their misogynist views. “See, that’s where a finding a ‘good’ woman got him!” And to be honest, I can’t blame them. Except to say that they are arrayed against forces above and beyond the political interests I have already acknowledged, including the human drive to love and procreate, which they of course condone. What does our movement (If I dare to claim co-ownership) have to offer besides social opprobrium and the bitter, alienated, single life? Perhaps I am as racially damned as my mulatto “nephews”–and if I am, what does that say about any number of others in the movement? Who here dares to assert their beliefs even at family the dinner table?

Well, that’s all from me. I don’t set out to mount a psy-op against you all, and I hope you will understand where I am coming from. It’s the desire for understanding that is behind my writing this piece, and not any attempt to steer or derail the movement. If anyone has some well-meaning advice for me, I’ll be only too glad to hear it.

*a kind of chocolate bar, shaped like a koala, with caramel inside