On What’s Ugly, Yet Necessary

1,644 words

Sometimes, when I am in one of my more truculent moods, I feel I could never trust a person who doesn’t use the word “nigger.”

That’s me at my worst, and, fortunately, I am there very rarely. I do struggle with it occasionally, though. Ninety-five percent of the time, however, I recognize that this word is ugly, yet necessary. This makes it, essentially, a man’s word. Cleaning out sewers is ugly yet necessary too, which is why I wouldn’t expect a woman to do it. So I can trust a woman who never says “nigger.” And children under eighteen shouldn’t say it, either. They might as well get tribal tattoos on their shoulders and smoke cigarettes and swear all the time. Aside from being ugly, yet necessary, “nigger” is also worldly. I would hope that a person would grow up and experience some of the world before engaging in such worldly talk.

Perhaps the analogy should be extended to cleaning sewers under a prison or a brothel.

Then there are those who use the word all the time. I hesitate to trust these people as well. To them, life is little more than sewers running under prisons and brothels. Is that all it is? Or do we also have libraries and museums and concert halls? Not to mention homes which contain wives and mothers and sons and daughters.

So who can I trust?

It’s more than just being able to say the word. It’s about appreciating it, its potency and importance, and recognizing that sometimes it needs to be said. And one does not ever have to utter the word to do this. It’s enough to know it is there, like a rifle hanging over the mantle, in case it ever needs to be used. Just as one should handle firearms responsibly, one should also use the word “nigger” responsibly.

But why should it be used at all? Most people get the ugly part. But why is it even necessary? It is necessary because it gets at a truth that mainstream white society is afraid to address today. A truth, not just of racial differences in intelligence and temperament, but something, well, tragically ugly about the human condition: that God plays favorites with His children. Or, if you prefer a more Darwinian approach, some races are further along on the evolutionary timeline than others.

Is there a pretty way of saying any of this? Would we rather have pretty lies instead? “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.” Is this something we should really try to make other adults believe? Or, instead, does ugly language become appropriate when life indeed gets ugly, as it is wont to do? What has happened to Detroit in the past sixty years is ugly. What has happened to many of our inner cities during the same period is ugly. The recent riots in Ferguson and Charlotte are ugly. The rates of poverty, robbery, murder, illegitimacy, gangster activity, spousal abuse, drug abuse, academic failure, political corruption among blacks . . . these are all very ugly things, and not just in America, but everywhere you find black people. It seems these people cannot escape ugliness wherever they go.

To use a word that is not equally ugly to describe all of this is not merely unsatisfying and unnatural, it’s also insidious. It implies that things are not as ugly as they really are. It’s the opposite of handing out participation trophies, which merely imply that someone’s actual achievements are greater than in reality. It’s basically a lie. To call a gang of niggers who assault an elderly couple while looting a convenience store during a riot a “group of disaffected African-American youth protesters” is a lie. Sure, it’s better than calling them nothing at all by virtue of ignoring them, but still.

And just like with cleaning out clogged sewers, if you don’t let the ugly truth out every once in a while, then things can get even uglier over time. People will start to feel stifled and oppressed. Or, even worse, they’ll start believing the lies. This is where our country is right now and where all this N-word talk is headed. Half of us want to say the word and can’t, and the other half wants to ban the word entirely, and can’t. So nobody’s happy.

This alone would be tolerable. Before the Second World War, when white Caucasians comprised approximately ninety percent of the population, whites could at least be civil regarding their opinions regarding blacks. Thomas Nelson Page and Thomas Dixon were publishing bestselling, race-realist fiction. Madison Grant and Lothrop Stoddard were academics in fine standing. Jim Crow laws were in full effect. The Ku Klux Klan marched in broad daylight and claimed membership in the millions. And let’s not forget the stellar success of The Birth of a Nation. Race realism was fairly well accepted and understood by most Americans. So whether you liked black people or not, you could always find a community that accepted your views and still consider yourself, above all else, an American.

Today, as we all know, things are much more complicated thanks to untrammeled immigration from the Third World. And the ugliness has only gotten worse. Along with the permanent criminal underclass, which includes a substantial portion of the black population, we now have immigrant-invaders (or imvaders, if you will) who wish to supplant the white population over time, taking advantage of our tax dollars as much as they can in the meantime. I’m talking about low-IQ Mexican and Muslim immigrants, mostly, who are here both legally and illegally in staggeringly large numbers. And, of course, they are fecund and lack much of the self-destructive violence of blacks, so their numbers will only increase if something is not done to stop them.

This is why the acceptable range of a white person’s racial attitudes has narrowed considerably. White identity and its defense have become taboo in traditionally white countries. Indeed, if someone were to defend Madison Grant or Lothrop Stoddard in a modern university, he might be physically assaulted. Speaking about white identity these days has become a little like walking the plank. Going in one direction means sharing an increasingly overcrowded ship with people who hate you; going in the other brings you the sweet release of truth and the pain of ostracism at the same time.

Not a comfortable position to be in, especially when we consider that it was our white forefathers who created America’s cultural institutions in the first place; institutions which are now being corrupted by people who are not at all like us.

This is why the issue of trust has become so important in the last decade and a half. We no longer have just the Black Question. We now have the Jewish Question, the Muslim Question, the Mexican Question, the Chinese Question, the Indian Question, and the Filipino Question. It doesn’t end, but it’s clear where it is headed. In the past, a white person’s opinion regarding race was merely a matter of his political or social affiliation. Today, it has become a matter of survival. As a result, trust has become a very important commodity.

Like many of us, I have normie friends and family members. I also have great relationships with my employer and colleagues. I make no secret of the fact that I am a Right-winger, but all of them would disown me if they knew exactly how far to the Right I really am. And what do all these people have in common? (I had to actually think about this for a while, which turned out to be the inspiration for this article.)

I can’t use the word “nigger” in front of them.

That’s it. That’s the best and pithiest answer I could come up with. Not only will they not say the word themselves, they don’t even want to hear it from a white person, let alone someone like me whom they already know. Whether it is used responsibly or not doesn’t matter. They are incapable of forgiving or changing on this point. Some of them have staked their careers and reputations on such a disavowal. So, to avoid unnecessary strife, I refrain from ever saying the word in their presence. But given that I am forced to retreat in this area, they lose my trust and the benefit of my love and friendship.

On the other hand, when I meet someone who at the very least tolerates the word when it is used responsibly, I know I have found someone I can be myself around. I make it known that they can trust me as well. Think of the captain of the ship in Joseph Conrad’s great novella, The Secret Sharer. He meets his doppelganger, a stowaway and a fugitive from the law who is in desperate trouble, and he immediately realizes that he can trust him. These two are very similar, having similar appearances, careers, schooling, and genetic stock. So he goes to great lengths and endures tremendous risks to help him. For me, meeting someone who is at least tolerant of this word is akin to that.

Am I happy about this? Am I happy that such an ugly word has now become the benchmark for who I can trust in an increasingly untrustworthy world? Of course, I am not. I wish there were no need for the word at all. But as I said before, this has become an issue of survival. And, like anyone, I want to survive. I want to be part of a community which not only accepts and appreciates my worldview, but also has ideas about how to deal with the many problems that are currently plaguing our world. These are natural and healthy inclinations.

Therefore, the word “nigger” will remain in my lexicon, ugly and necessary as it is.