Over the past few years I’ve spent far too much time pouring over on this crucially important site. I’ve never contributed and I’m embarrassed that I haven’t been more active. I’d like this to be my first step in being - I hope - of value - and I welcome your constructive criticism.
Growing up in rural PA in the 80s and 90s, I was one of few if any non-white children in my public school system. Non white? Hardly - half Italian, but with an overtly ethnic name and a dark complexion, not a jock and not part of the growing born again movement. As such, I was the target for any and all racial abuse, and became accustomed to any bigoted insult, however hereditarily or geographically inaccurate. I was a stand-in for Puerto Ricans, getting called every slur that is hatefully associated with them, I suffered during the first Gulf War, as to them I was also Middle Eastern, and I was often called the N-word. There was also physical violence. I write this not to ask for pity, but because I feel I gained an insight into how White Supremacy works. I certainly was and am both lucky and privileged, and any suffering I experienced is a grain of sand in comparison to what truly marginalized and abused people endure every day.
In my teens, punk rock was a godsend. Anything that allowed me to get out of the farming town, meet people who were also disenfranchised, abused, nerdy, different - was more life affirming than my first kiss. But in PA in the early 90s, White power was a looming ghoul, always hovering somewhere, always ready to pull me back to every abusive horror I thought this music scene allowed me to escape.
This was punk before Green Day and Blink 182, unregulated, esoteric and clandestine. This was punk when it was as much tragically lost addicts and creeps as it was weird, naive suburban kids. And that meant semi-legal show spaces in bad neighborhoods, sneaking out late, borrowing the family car without permission. And we were all easy targets for the skinheads. It was common for them to jump us, stomping on us, pulling us into dark corners and beating us without fear of retribution - and in those moments it was rare to find help. We were all terrified, we were embarrassed for not helping but also glad it wasn’t us getting beaten that night.
How does this apply to the Trump administration? It’s all the same methods, just on a coordinated, national scale. Everything Corey Lewandowski has ever said is no different than any skinhead I’ve met, but he has the ability to say it on a global platform. These are same old dirty tricks, but on our tv and social media reaching millions, instead of a firehall or squat to an audience of less than 100.
“I’m just dancing.” This is what every white supremacist would say after they split your friend’s head open. Moshing was something we did as a community, as catharsis. It appeared violent and anarchic to an outsider, sure - but we all looked out for each other, picked each other up and meant no harm. The skinheads simply saw it as a forum for violence. The “no rules” ethos of punk gave white power an unintended doorway. And this was their answer when confronted for their violence - “I’m just dancing.” Said with a smirk. Said with the same self-satisfied attitude of righteousness as the “Karen”declaring why she is exempt from wearing a mask. This is the exactly what we are experiencing now: they make a White Power hand gesture that is essentially the OK symbol. So when confronted, they have that dodge, “it’s just the OK symbol.” Posting “I like milk” on social media. An innocuous statement? Yes, by design. It’s all code, it’s all constructed to give them cover.
All bullies are cowards, and I never had a skinhead admit what they believed to my face, even when it was ten of them and one of me. This is because they know they needed that cover, they know their ideology is odious, and that no civilized society would accept it - so it has to be couched in secret codes. Similar to how a drug dealer or pedophile or street gang lures in their victim. It’s incremental, seemingly innocuous at first, until it’s too late.
During my senior year, I would hear nearly constant automatic gunfire from a nearby farm. We first thought it was the good ol’ boys at the nearby rod and gun club. Kids from my school would tell me in semi-secret that they were at the farm, training for the coming race war. A few months later, a federal raid on the farm captured leaders of a national white power group - with similar farms through the US - who were gearing up to commit a series of bank robberies that would enable them to fund the race war they had been planning. It was national news at the time.
When you see these people - if it’s the Proud Boys, led by a diabolically evil, desperate failure of a professional writer I regrettably once admired (before he exposed himself as a fascist) when he wrote non-political articles for Vice in its early years, if it’s Steven Miller, hiding behind his Jewish heritage when it’s of benefit to him, when it’s the high school kid on Instagram posting an “edgy” meme, getting a thrill out of being “provocative” - look not at what they say, but use your intellect and instinct to understand the intent. You were right the first time. They want our destruction. They want to see the world burn. That they can’t or won’t explain why is of little consequence; they might not actually know why, to be honest. Don’t let them tell you they’re patriots, or that they’re not racist, or that they’re Christian, or that you can’t take a joke or you don’t understand. They do not deserve your empathy, tolerance, or the benefit of the doubt. They are not “just dancing.” They never were.
Again, I welcome your criticism. Thank you for reading.