As I was driving to work today, I came across a sudden moment of self realization that has haunted me for hours.
I have blood on my hands tonight. I once helped to enable and foster this culture of hate that is a cancer on the heart of America. Every time I defended a Confederate war memorial, or a flag flying over a state house, I helped to contribute to this climate of hate. Every time I posted “it’s ok to be proud to be white” in response to civil rights issues, as I often did circa 2011, I contributed to the climate of hate. Every time I expressed opposition to say, gay marriage, I contributed to the fact that it has taken this long for marriage equality to be implemented. Every time I defended Rhodesia (and this admission should not be taken as an endorsement of Mugabe or his regime), I ultimately was defending the right of a minority to oppress a majority based solely on race. See a pattern? White nationalists are a strange bunch. They think they are bigger in numbers than they actually are. When they aren’t engaged in a hateful circle jerk at Stormfront, they are out actively spreading their loathsome message in simpler, more docile, and worst of all, seemingly acceptable ways. By spreading my bile like I did in 2011, I encouraged this and promoted this. And tonight, for the first time, I truly realized just how wrong I was. I can’t just dismiss this as a “phase” as I so often have done. It was worst than just a “phase.”
I was wrong. I was vile. And I have blood on my hands tonight. I may have not fired the gun, but there is simply no excuse for my thoughts and actions. While I have strived to heal myself from this dark period of my life, this atrocity, this terrorist attack that has struck America to the core, should not be glossed over as another gun tragedy, nor should it be an issue solely about gun violence. It is an issue about America’s conscience, and transcends the simplistic left/right boundaries.
