I was born in the rural South back in the early 80s when the internet was practically non-existent and cell phones were in their seminal stages. There was literally no social media then and our culture was such that most of our time was spent amongst family and friends. When we weren’t at school or eating dinner at a relative’s house, we could be found somewhere outside either fishing, shooting guns, or riding ATVs. Yes, we had a computer with AOL, as well as a Nintendo, but these weren’t as pervasive as their technological descendants are today. Our interests, attitudes, and worldviews were still largely shaped by our elders and the company we kept and given that the Dixiecrat culture was still rather prevalent in my town at the time, we were unwittingly redpilled to some degree.
I didn’t become explicitly redpilled until about halfway through my Marine Corps enlistment. While I am proud of my service, I was happy to get out and start a new career, but I greatly missed the camaraderie I developed with my fellow Marines, which proved difficult to find in civilian life. Thus, I began looking for organizations to join that shared my political and social views with hopes that I might be able to restore a sense of esprit de corps. For nine years I hopped around in various nationalist and/or identitarian styled organizations. With each organization I joined, I made it a point to attend at least one public event put on by the organization so that I could get a true sense of the caliber of people comprising its membership. My sole purpose was to answer a single question: Would I want my children exposed to these people? Frustratingly the answer was always a resounding no. Each event I attended ended with me resigning my membership out of disgust soon after returning home. The unprofessional, often disrespectful, and overtly degenerate behavior of these groups’ members was not something I would be comfortable exposing my children to. With every phone call made or email sent letting the leadership know I was moving on, my hope in the Identitarian movement grew bleaker. My relationship with my wife and children became strained due to my loss of hope.
I am a father of four children, two of whom are teenagers, which in this day and age, of course, means either having your own cell phone or being a social pariah. I live only 20 miles from where I was born and raised, and with the dawn of social media, the culture here has changed drastically much to the chagrin of what is left of the more traditionalist leaning families in the area. While I’ve given them an upbringing similar to my own, there is simply no way I could protect my children from the pervasive liberal culture that bombards them each day. Today’s youth are interconnected on a level their parents could never have imagined as kids. When I was young, news and information traveled much slower, mainly in the form of periodicals and the nightly news. For the most part, it lacked any sort of leftist bent. It was trustworthy because its mission was still, at least ostensibly, to inform, rather than to influence. All of this changed as we evolved into the 24 hour, on demand, digital age which the hand-wringing Culture-distorters used to their advantage.
Younger millennials and those comprising Generation Z have much larger social circles by way of social media. Their worldview is shaped much less by their parents and more through a leftist-saturated, anti-Tradition, anti-Authoritarian, pop-culture readily available on their devices. The customs of local and regional cultures have all but faded, taking a distant backseat to the Liberal, globalist, propaganda machine which thrives upon a generation whose time is spent mostly with its face pressed against a phone screen. It has placed younger redpilled parents like myself in a quandary. Because technology has developed so rapidly in the past decade, we are having to develop reactionary methods of rearing our children so that our cultural mores are not swallowed up by an increasingly global society.
In recent years the successes and failures of the “old guard” pro-White movements have given rise to a new age of Identitarianism, namely the Alt-Right. It has begun using the power and reach of the web to its advantage, particularly with regard to news and perspective websites like this one, and a multitude of podcasts in an effort to counter the Liberal onslaught. About a year ago I began listening to the Daily Shoah, Fash the Nation, and other TRS podcasts via my car’s Bluetooth during my work commute. These shows acted as a supplement to the dearth of any talk radio in my area which was already limited to NPR and local shows suffused with Boomer Cuckservatism. I was immediately impressed with how well the hosts articulated the Identitarian message, balancing serious issues with lighthearted humor and fresh ideas. What was even more impressive the sheer number of people now being drawn toward Identitarianism. The Alt-Right had found a way to put its ideas into the mainstream in a way that the older, more rigid organizations had never thought of. The Alt-Right had turned modernity on its head, utilizing the tools that initially worked to divide and further atomize the people to bring them together again.
Listening to these shows became a daily habit and I was so accustomed to it that I forgot The Daily Shoah was playing when I picked up my two oldest children from school one day. As we started down the road, I quickly realized my mistake and turned the radio off after my concentration on driving was broken by roaring laughter coming from the back seat. Over their pleading cries to turn it back on, I informed my kids that the show was inappropriate for their age. My son replied, “It’s nothing compared to what we hear at school every day, dad” and my daughter nodded her head in agreement. This did not sit well with me. Just what in the hell were they hearing and who were they hearing it from?
That night I thought about what had happened and what my son had said. It got me thinking about the kind of environment that my children are growing up in. What were they being exposed to that I didn’t know about? It was a question that I had regrettably not thought much about up until this point. I guess it never really struck me to think about it because they have always been good kids. They get decent grades, have plenty of White friends, are respectful to their elders and peers, and (thank God) abhor hip-hop culture. Because of this, I believe I grew too complacent as a father. Even still, I couldn’t help but think about how different the experiences of my youth were in contrast to theirs. My childhood was spent mostly outside, in the company of an all White family and all White friends, in a society that was relatively safe for our people. My oldest children were spending much of their time indoors, engrossed in their phones, listening to and witnessing things that were completely at odds with the values I was taught growing up, completely oblivious to a society growing ever more averse to their existence.
As a parent, it’s strange to know that my kids have been exposed to more in their early teenage years than I was in the first 25 years of my life, especially since the majority of what they are exposed to online, at school, and by their friends does not mesh with my worldview and thus the values I wanted to instill in them. But what could I do about it? My control over what information they consume or are exposed to is limited to the time we spend together, and the effectiveness of the guidance and advice I give them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my previous approach was not nearly satisfactory. So it was then that I resolved I would make a concerted effort to redpill my children using my own knowledge and experience, as well as the material produced by the new and various Alt-Right content creators, to counter the garbage they’ve been force fed by public school and society at large.
I began by becoming more involved than ever in their schooling. I started asking questions about what they were being taught, and where applicable, I offered a different perspective based on real-world examples. When I would counter a topic they’d learned in school, I would back it up by providing links to articles or chapters in a book so that they would understand it wasn’t just my personal opinion or point of view. Eventually, it got to the point where they began asking me questions about things they had learned from school or their peers, as well as researching things themselves. This begot dialogue after dialogue between us on a variety of topics that the Alt-Right had been discussing for years. The seed I planted simply by involving myself more in my children’s lives was now being nourished by their own, newly developed, critical thinking skills.
Long story short, my oldest kids are now voracious readers of AltRight.com and similar sites, and are two of The Daily Shoah’s biggest, and likely among its youngest, fans. Some may think that they are a bit too young to be listening to the show, and may be better served by only reading content that doesn’t contain some of the language and off-color humor found on The Daily Shoah. Of course, there is some truth to this, which is why I make sure to listen to each episode the day it drops in order to judge whether or not it is appropriate enough for them to listen to later.
Still, I do allow them to listen to some content that most normie parents might find appalling. But going back to the aforementioned statement my son made about hearing worse in school every day, my attitude towards it is that if they’re going to hear profanity and otherwise age-inappropriate content, I’d much rather them hear it from a redpilled perspective controlled by me than an unrestrained, degenerate, leftist one.
The Alt-Right IRL
In late April I caught wind of an Alt-Right event being held in Charlottesville, Virginia, I thought that this could be a chance to impress upon my kids that the Alt-Right doesn’t solely consist of anonymous folk producing memes, articles, and podcasts. They needed to see that the Identitarian movement exists beyond the bounds of the internet and that the issues they read and hear about are indeed real. As it turned out, I was personally acquainted with a few of the event’s organizers so I knew, without a doubt, that they would only put on a respectable, professional event far removed from the events I had attended in years past. I spoke with my wife about it and since the event was not publicly announced (thus drastically reducing the chances of large crowds of violent Antifa members showing up) she agreed to let my oldest son accompany me.
We drove nearly seven hours to get to Charlottesville and arrived just in time Saturday morning to gather for the march from McGuffey Park to Jackson Park. When we arrived my son was immediately and enthusiastically welcomed by many of the attendees who were delighted to see that the movement was attracting support from the next generation. I introduced him to Nathan Damigo, Matthew Heimbach, Sam Dickson, and a few other movers and shakers before we took our place in the formation. Soon after, we began our march together, shoulder to shoulder, a father and son among hundreds of fellow Europeans, in honor of our fallen European ancestors.
When we arrived at Jackson Park, my son, being an artist in his own right, was immediately awestruck by the craftsmanship and majesty of the Jackson statue. I swelled with pride as I watched him soak in the speeches by Spencer, Damigo, Enoch, and Dickson. With each word spoken he was learning that the Great Replacement is a real and present danger facing Europeans not only in the American South, but all over the world. He was experiencing the real world for once, not the happy ending, egalitarian facade peddled by Hollywood and pop-culture. In that brief moment of time, he realized that he was part of something greater than himself and any individual in the crowd. This event was a rite of passage for him, his first step in his journey of becoming who he is.
Later on, we made our way to the banquet area where other early arrivals were setting up the tables and chairs. My son wasted no time in jumping right in to assist them. I listened in on their conversations as they asked him his name, where he was from, and how he came to find out about the event and the Alt-Right in general. When they were finished many of them shook his hand and thanked him. I was glad to see that he was paying his dues and earning their respect.
Unfortunately, due to time constraints, we were unable to attend the torch-lit procession at Lee Park that evening but the drive home that night was abuzz with excitement. My son couldn’t stop talking about the day’s events, what he had seen, heard, and learned, who he had met and talked to. We discussed some of the issues mentioned in the speeches and shared quite a few laughs at the expense of the handful of Antifas that appeared toward the end of the day march. While one of his fondest memories of the event was getting to shake hands and speak with Mike Enoch, the best part from my perspective was that I got to know my son better, and he got to know his father as not just a provider, but one of the many thousands out there trying to make the world a better place for him. We bonded not just as father and son, but, in many respects, as fellow fighters for European survival. While I’m sure we will be attending many more memorable events in the future, Charlottesville will always remain a defining moment in both our lives which neither of us will ever forget.
The reader may be asking, what positive things have come from the process of redpilling your children?
Until just over six months ago, my teenagers’ daily routine consisted of going to school, coming home, going straight to their rooms, and spending the rest of the evening chatting with friends or playing games, appearing only at the dinner table or to do their chores. In between her duties as a homemaker, my wife would sit and read, sew, or help with homework. When I wasn’t playing the role of “Normie Dad” by mowing the lawn, trimming hedges, or fiddling around with a project in the garage, I would sit beside her, my face either in a book or my phone trying to keep up with the happenings of the Identitarian movement. Save for the annual family vacation, and random trips to the lake or the mountains, our family life was mundane. Despite short-lived bonding moments during our trips and over superficial things like video and board games, sports, and movies, we didn’t have any really strong connections.
After they were exposed to the world of the Alt-Right, however, my oldest two have been spending the majority of their free time with me, their mother, and their younger siblings. On top of things like family game and movie nights, we spend time laughing about the newest memes making the rounds, something funny or interesting we heard on a podcast, as well as talking about current events and issues facing White people today. Not a day goes by now that I don’t get asked a question about something related to their new experiences. They’ve started to think for themselves which would have likely not been the case had I left them to the leftist indoctrination of public schooling, television, and their bluepilled social circles. Lastly, after over two years of lurking on the fringes of the Identitarian scene due to what I perceived was a dying movement, I have returned to the fray by supporting multiple organizations, attending Alt-Right events, and becoming an AltRight.com contributor.
Thus, over the past year the quality of my family life has improved dramatically. I’ve never been closer to my older two kids than I am now. I feel more like a mentor and a role model, as opposed to simply a breadwinner. Could all this have been possible without introducing my children to the Alt-Right? Sure. But I hate to imagine what sort of disservice I would be doing them by keeping them in the dark about the struggle that awaits them in life as White people. Not only did the Alt-Right help me bring my family closer together, but the things they are learning are serving to prepare them for the hardships they will inevitably face in a world turned against them.
My hope is that other redpilled parents who may recognize themselves in my story will take inspiration from it and apply this it to their own unique family situation. Being White in modern society is scary enough, but having children adds a whole new level of trepidation. As parents we are naturally inclined to protect our progeny. This is precisely why events like that in Charlottesville are so vitally important because the Alt-Right is nothing without the youth. Holding events that parents feel comfortable bringing their children to will only help pull more people over to our side. The left, or course, doesn’t want this to happen. It should come as no surprise that the event was derided in the mainstream media as a gathering of hateful racists on the wrong side of history. It is the job of the lügenpresse to instill fear in the minds of the populace in an effort to frighten any would-be supporters away, to keep up atomized so that we can be more effectively controlled.
Actions, of course, speak louder than words. I’ve said before that the Alt-Right must embrace its grassroots, bottom up approach. If we don’t have a solid foundation we cannot hope to build a movement that will last until it is time for our children to take the reins. We cannot do this sitting behind keyboards sharing memes, discussing political theories, and arguing over which approach is best. We owe it to our progeny to get up, get out, and do something. Our job is to develop the groundwork, to create a solid infrastructure for them. We cannot allow our detractors to frighten us to the point where we feel our children’s only safe-haven is at home, cooped up and alienated from their extended family.
We can counter the media’s falsehoods by creating a safe and family-friendly environment for everyone. Parents with children of all ages should be encouraged to attend future events so that the upcoming generations of our movement can get to know one another and grow together. While our events have been somewhat small lately, they will pale in comparison to future ones. Imagine the day when we are able to hold week long retreats during which we might hold classes where we, far removed from the influence of modernity, could teach our children about their heritage, about Tradition, the cultural achievements of their ancestors, and how to recognize and deal with the dangers they will face in the future. Imagine sponsoring summer camps where our children can spend their days amongst their own kind, participating in extra-curricular activities, learning practical life and survival skills, all the while developing friendships that will last a lifetime.
The possibilities are endless if we, as their parents, remain dauntless in our efforts to pave the way for them. The examples they will set for their peers back home, and eventually their own children, will have resounding effects that will not only help grow our numbers, but reinvigorate the racial and cultural spirit of our people. Through consistent, productive, real life interaction and instruction, the bonds we help develop between our children today will grow to be stronger than even the ones shared by us now, and will lead the Alt-Right and its ideas to ever greater heights.
I extend my heartfelt gratitude to the Alt-Right, its content creators, and event organizers. Keep up the good work. Your efforts are not in vain. I, and the rest of my family, look forward to seeing and working with you all again soon.