Letter from a White Survivor
My direct ancestor was one of two men who lead a group of English settlers from Massachusetts to Long Island, N.Y. in 1643. His son was the first white child born on Long Island. That child’s name was Caleb. So to say my roots in this country run deep is to put it mildly.
My family as I am told was abolitionist from day one. Aided slaves escaping north from southern chains. My great-great-great grandfather John was in Sherman’s army and it’s march through the south during the civil war. My family never owned slaves, were against slavery and fought for the freedom of blacks enslaved here.
Whatever colonial honor that my family had was gone by the time I was born in 1973. My father was a one of 7 children and was an Army engineer during Viet Nam. Mom was of Swedish/Italian heritage. Both parents were messed up in their own way. Neither ever loved one another and both had addictions. Dad drank himself stupid daily and Mom was a pill popper and a pathological shopper. They were married and divorced twice by the time I was 6 years old.
My first experience with racism was when I was just about 7 years old. I moved with my Mother to the north side of town. The mostly black side of town. But at that age I didn’t have a clue about race or racial issues. I was a kid. I used to go to a supermarket across the street from my building because they had animals like goats and cows you could feed and pet. I became fast friends with a group of black kids who lived in the next building over. We hung out all summer. We used to watch kung fu theatre on Sunday afternoons. You know, those old Shaw Bros. kung fu movies. We used to pretend we were those guys and pretend to kung fu each other. We were great friends.
So one day we were in the parking lot between their building and the market. An older black guy came walking up. He was the older brother or the uncle of one of the boys. He saw us playing and called the group over. When I came walking over he told me sharply to stay where I was. I don’t know what he said to them but the next thing that happened was my group of friends walked over to me and proceeded to beat the living hell out of me. Sticks, nunchucks, fists, feet, etc. They guy was laughing and yelling for them to hit me harder. I saw two Hispanic women walking through the parking lot. I begged them to help me. They just looked for a moment and kept walking. I finally fought my way free and got home. Never to spend time with those boys again. I was beaten bloody. Scratched all over my face, black eye, fat lip, cut lip, sore ribs and twisted ankle. I learned that day I was white and they were black.
Several years later I was sent to a school upstate in Hawthorne, N.Y. for kids with behavior issues. We lived in these building/houses they called cottages. This was in 1984. Almost from minute one I found myself having to fight. There were a large number of black kids, medium number of Hispanic kids and a small number of white kids. I was always being called a cracker, a honky, white piece of shit, etc. I was robbed of everything I owned at least 10 times in the first few months. Then one night it got really bad. As we left the mess hall a guy at the door handed out snickers bars. One each. As I walked I suddenly found myself alone. Next thing I know I’m jumped on by 5 or 6 kids from my cottage. They got the snickers bar. Well I was mad so I yelled out “f*****g n*****s”.
I didn’t know the full meaning of what I said. I just knew enough to know it was to them what honky was to me. When I got back to the cottage it was chaos. They had told the head man what I said. He was Jamaican and mean as hell. I only did what I did out of anger and only did to them what they did to me every day. But that didn’t matter. From that day on I had to fight. To school, from school. To chow, from chow. All the time. It took a year, a full year for me to finally fight off enough guys to be able to be left in relative peace. But I was always reminded from time to time that I was an evil racist who hates blacks.
During my second and last year there I was targeted by an older black boy named Troy. He used to beat me up when I first got there. So one night I wake up to feel my genitals being jiggled. I look down and it’s Troy. He had a razor to the base of my penis. He said “Get your lil white d**k hard or I’m gonna cut it off”. Then he proceeded to suck. When he realized I wasn’t getting hard he flipped me over onto my stomach and proceeded to lick my butt. All the while calling me the most foul white names. I really thought he was gonna kill me or at least cut me really bad. When he left I must have showered for an hour straight. He smoked cigarettes and I couldn’t get that smell off of me no matter how hard I scrubbed.
I managed after that to block my window so he couldn’t get in. I heard him try many times. Two times during the day when weekend staff was there he snuck in and used to threaten me into watching him jerk himself off. He used to say while he was doing it that he loved getting off by raping white boys. I knew it was only gonna be a matter of time before he tried doing the worst case scenario but luckily I went home before that happened.
In the summer of 1986 I moved back to my old town with my dad. He was drunk all the time and I was left on my own mostly. The town was starting to really get bad. I lived in a poor white area but still had to go to school with a lot of black kids. I probably fought every day for the last year of junior high and the first two years of high school. And it was always the same situation. A group of black kids thinking either “I” was the one who hated them, or that I was weak and couldn’t defend myself or that they simply wanted what I had. They always jumped you. They never fought one on one. By my senior year 3/4 of the kids in town were afraid of me because I had become so used to fighting 3-4 guys at once and winning. I didn’t see it as winning. I saw it as surviving.
All through my childhood I had to listen to blacks talk bad about whites, say they hated whites, or what they were gonna do to whites. I never in all my years ran into a white person say the same about blacks. All the racism I experienced or witnessed was black on white. For a long time, I had serious issues with being white. I hated my ancestry. Hated myself. I used to troll the internet when I got my first pc to find anything to make me proud or at least comfortable with who and what I am. Even white power sites. Which I will say are outright jokes. I’ve always been a history buff and some of the stuff on the white power sites is outright bullshit. I just couldn’t buy into their ideology. But as I got a little older I found myself becoming more and more proud of who and what I am. It took a long time and a lot of therapy for me to get there. I have PTSD and anxiety due to black racism and violence.
I’ll end with a story. So last night I had to go to a pizza party for the kid of my girlfriend’s co-worker. It was at sky zone. She asked me to bring my daughter and nephew. 3/4 of the place was black. I won’t lie, my antennas were up because of that fact alone. Within the first 5 mins a black kid larger than my nephew was on the dodgeball court. My nephew tagged him with the ball so he was out. Before he left the court he took a ball from another kid and threw it so hard at my nephew it took him off his feet. You could hear the hit over the music which was very loud. Knocked my 12 year old nephew out cold. Right in front of me a group of black kids around 10 were laughing and high-fiving over it. They loved it. I almost lost it. When the kid who hit my nephew saw me coming he took off running and the black kids stopped laughing.
That was one of about 15 incidents that happened that night regarding either my nephew or my 9 year old daughter. I’m a pretty big guy. I’m 6’1″ 275 lbs. covered in tattoos and I carry myself as a man who has no problem fighting, especially violent blacks. To me, most ignorant blacks who act that way are bullies. Nothing more. Every time I came walking up they got out of my way immediately. Every time i made eye contact they looked away first. I refuse to be bullied by blacks. They made my life hell and scarred me forever. And when I see all the anti-white hate out there or all the talk of giving more to blacks I get enraged. I feel like we owe them nothing and it’s they who owe us. We gave them a freedom we didn’t have to and they thanked us by acting like animals.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Hope it may help some of the people you reach out to.
About the Author
Colin Flaherty is an award winning reporter and author of the #1 best selling book White Girl Bleed a Lot: The Return of Racial Violence to America and How the Media Ignore it.
His new book is Knockout Game a Lie? Aww, Hell No.
Both books are about black mob violence, black on white crime and the Knockout Game.
His work has appeared in more than 1000 news sites around the world, including the New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, Time Magazine. His story about how a black man was unjustly convicted of trying to kill his white girlfriend resulted in his release from state prison and was featured on Court TV, NPR, The Los Angeles Times and San Diego Union-Tribune.
Thomas Sowell: ”Reading Colin Flaherty’s book made painfully clear to me that the magnitude of this problem is greater than I had discovered from my own research. He documents both the race riots and the media and political evasions in dozens of cities.” – National Review.
Sean Hannity: White Girl Bleed a Lot “has gone viral.”
Allen West: “At least author Colin Flaherty is tackling this issue (of racial violence and black on white crime) in his new book, White Girl Bleed a Lot: The Return of Racial Violence to America and How the Media Ignore it.“
Los Angeles Times: “a favorite of conservative voices.”
Daily Caller: “As the brutal “knockout” game sweeps across the U.S., one author isn’t surprised by the attacks or the media reaction. Colin Flaherty, author of the book “White Girl Bleed A Lot: The Return of Racial Violence to America and How The Media Ignore It,” began chronicling the new wave of violence nearly a year ago — revealing disturbing racial motivations behind the attacks and a pattern of media denial.”
Alex Jones: “Brilliant. Could not put it down.”
Neal Boortz: “Colin Flaherty has become Public Enemy No.1 to the leftist media because of his research on black culture of violence.”
From the Bill Cunningham show. It is official: “Colin Flaherty is a great American.A wonderful book.”
Breitbart.com: “Prescient. Ahead of the News. Garnering attention and sparking important discussions.”
David Horowitz: “A determined reporter, Colin Flaherty, broke ranks to document these rampages in a book titled, White Girl Bleed A Lot”
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