NotRol
Active Member
Here you go, maybe you'll read it maybe you wont but its more presentable.
"It’s easy to see what happened here.
Conservative white dudes grow up under a lot of pressure—their role in life is already carved out before they even figure out who they are. He probably went on a Mormon retreat and met someone—maybe a group of people—who shattered everything he had been taught.
It could have been something as small as a Black stranger holding the door for him at a gas station. Or as profound as meeting a beautiful Black woman with radiant skin and a smile that broke down walls. They connected. Both knew the rules in the JCLS church—you could associate, but never procreate.
That was the crack in the foundation. Now he’s “woke,” surrounded again by sleepwalkers, and the ugly things they say about “others” hit him differently. Sometimes he wants to speak up—“Not cool, bro”—but he knows that any “nigger-loving” activity would be reported to his church counselor, and he’d be put in line.
Even online, in Call of Duty lobbies, he doesn’t join in when his buddies go wild with the N-word. He laughs with them, plays with them, but inside, it eats away at him. Because he has new friends too—friends he can’t mention to his white circle.
With them, the atmosphere is different. They don’t use the N-word like a weapon—it’s theirs, part of their own world. They talk about school, about their future, about how much of a clown Trump is. And then one day, in the middle of a match, one of them says:
“Aww shit, that nigga Tyler is on.”
Another adds:
“Yeah, we about to go on a streak. That nigga Tyler be snipin’ the shit outta muthafuckas.”
For the first time, they called him that. He didn’t have to get jumped in, or prove himself by doing dirt. They didn’t need him to mimic their slang. They just accepted him—for him.
Meanwhile, his white friends are buzzing about Charlie Kirk. He looks him up and can’t stand him. He sees Kirk touring college campuses, grooming young white people into believing White Nationalism is natural, inevitable. It disgusts him. And during Trump’s re-election campaign, the effect is everywhere—white youth rallying behind a cause he knows is rotten.
When Trump wins again, it enrages him. He sees Trump planting the seeds of authoritarianism, and the fear inside him hardens. Then his buddies cheer about Kirk coming to Utah. He fakes excitement, but inside, he thinks of cowards—Hitler, who only killed himself, and Mussolini, who got dragged through the streets when his regime collapsed.
He imagines the same fate for Kirk. He looks around at his circle and realizes they wouldn’t blink if Trump ordered bombs to drop on Chicago’s South Side. That’s when the planning starts.
Because history has already shown him what one man’s words—and the grievances of white people—can unleash: the deadliest war of the modern era, and genocide on a scale only rivaled by the transatlantic slave trade.
That’s why these right-wing influencers are quiet right now. They know the truth: they might be raising the very kid who sees them for what they are—a danger to society—and decides the world doesn’t need them anymore."
