Pity the poor white nationalist!
He (and it is almost always a he) is not faring well these days. You think otherwise? Au contraire, mes amis! Take no notice of the fact that incidents of abuse and violence against persons of color committed by white racists are, in numerical terms, on the rise—whether it be the persistent tendency of a small number of white women to call the police on blacks, Hispanics, or Asians going about their daily lives or the actual killings by the Dylann Roofs of the world. Many put the blame on the pasty-faced white guy currently occupying the Oval Office, but, offensive as he is, he was only drawing upon a well of support that was there long before him.
Can we be frank? The racists have always been among us. I don’t know why many of us believed that the election of a mixed-race president in 2008 would suddenly purge this country of its centuries-long heritage of cruelty and prejudice against non-whites, but that conviction was staggeringly naive. So in a sense it is salutary that these racists now expose themselves—for what they are exposing, even in cases where they literally weaponize their prejudice, are their fears, anxieties, and insecurities.
We customarily designate the most extreme of these unsavory folk as white supremacists, but it should by now be obvious that “white inferiorists” is a far more accurate moniker. What we have learned in the past half-century or so, when racial (and sexual) barriers have to some extent been broken down, is that these poor white losers (in every sense of the term) only managed to maintain their faux supremacy by establishing legal and social obstacles to protect their privileges; the moment they have to start competing with persons of color on an even approximately equal basis, they invariably reveal their inferiority—and whine about it.
Don’t be fooled: the tide has definitely turned against these worthies. Whenever they try to stage rallies to bring out their purported masses of silent supporters, they are overwhelmed many times over by their opponents. Not long ago, Richard Spencer, one of the darlings among the white inferiorists, began a much-ballyhooed campaign across college campuses to promote his cause, but had to give up … because of lack of interest. Stephen K. Bannon, Mr. Trump’s former Svengali, after trying to foment some kind of uprising among Europeans, is now engaged in the task of overthrowing the Communist party in China—to which I can only say, “Good luck with that, Stevie boy!”
It is not merely that the white inferiorists are dwarfed in pure numbers by those (white and otherwise) who do not exhibit the slightest concern over which races are superior or inferior (assuming, for the sake of argument, that the very notion of “race” is even a coherent or scientifically plausible conception); it is that the entire culture has turned against them. Have you ever noticed how TV shows and, especially, TV commercials have become relentlessly multicultural? Don’t get me wrong; I think it’s fabulous. But what particularly tickles me is contemplating the impotent rage of our white inferiorists as they witness these cheerful (and, more to the point, prosperous) people of all races enjoying each other’s company as they buy that new Lexus or chow down on that pizza.
The most chilling scenario for our pitiable white inferiorists is what, since at least the days of Teddy Roosevelt, has been called “race suicide.” For you see, whites are not reproducing as prolifically as persons of color, so the writing on the wall is becoming increasingly apparent. This is why some inferiorists are actually seeking to enlist white women in their cause. For if these women “betray” their race—either by not popping enough babies out of their bodies or (worse) actually engaging in the horrible act of “miscegenation” with men of color—well, the white race would be doomed, wouldn’t it? The only problem is that these inferiorists are so inflamed with obvious misogyny that not a great many white women want to join forces with them.
And if you think things are bad now for the inferiorists, it’s soon about to get much worse. By about 2040, whites in this country will officially attain minority status. I myself will officially be an old coot by then, but I intend to let out some raucous cackles from my La-Z-Boy recliner.
So what is the poor inferiorist to do, especially regarding entertainment options? You really can’t watch regular TV anymore. Maybe there needs to be a cable channel just for these gentry, showing endless reruns of Leave It to Beaver and other safe programs. Or they can (assuming they can read) enjoy the novels of Jane Austen. (I am not joking: Austen’s books, and the films based upon them, are in fact popular with white inferiorists precisely because there is not a person of color to be found anywhere among them.) The problem is that even those shows that seem unthreatening turn out to be quite otherwise. Remember that hilarious episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show where Rob Petrie, fearing that he had received the wrong baby from the hospital, demands to see the baby he thinks is his—which turns out to be the offspring of a very black Greg Morris and his equally sable wife? I still remember my mild surprise at seeing Morris playing a smart black man on the old Mission: Impossible TV show.
But the inferiorists should not worry too much about the lowly status to which they will be consigned. We persons of color will be magnanimous in our victory; we have no wish to seek revenge for the millennia of ill-treatment our ancestors endured. I will fully support affirmative action for white people. After all, they need all the help they can get.