On the one hand, assuming a pseudonym to write about political topics is useful. It allows you to separate your political activity from your family life or your job. No one wants to talk politics at Thanksgiving, and with marketing now primarily on social media, corporations are ultra-sensitive to mob pressures.
Besides, being a “secret agent” is cool. It appeals to people’s sense of adventure and excitement. Who doesn’t want to be Nicholas Cage part of a secret society that alters the course of history? There’s a reason people love movies about Freemasons.
On the other hand, it’s just not natural. The first time I’d heard of anyone doing this was on a hike in 2016. It was my first time meeting some self-described “traditionalists,” and everyone kept calling my husband “Niko.” I didn’t know these people at all, so I’d assumed it was an honest mistake and kept correcting them. “Oh, no that’s Spencer.” It wasn’t until five miles later I found out this was intentional — oops!
Members of the group told horror stories of friends disowning them over something silly like sharing a Blonde in the Belly of the Beast video or thinking George Zimmerman might have had reason to fear for his life. To be fair, my husband slept on the couch the first night after we discussed The Bell Curve. So speaking from the perspective of a convicted virtue-signaler, the idea of being disowned from family and friends wasn’t totally beyond the realm of imagination. I picked the most generic name I could think of: Samantha Hilton.
But it never felt normal. Samantha came out for the first time in 2017 when I was bartending the Counter-Currents fundraiser. Jared Taylor came over for a glass of milk  and introduced himself.
“I’m . . . Samantha,” I replied.
I stared down at the milk for a second then quickly followed up with, “I’m sorry that’s not really my name. This is very weird.”
Mr. Taylor was gracious as always and assured me “It’s not a bad idea” to keep a pseudonym. Then Margo Metroland saved the conversation by describing her own experience with antifa harassment. But I was still uneasy. You just don’t lie. Ever.
I don’t think most people want to adopt a pseudonym. But you’re forced into it if you want to discuss anything that’s actually interesting.
A few weeks ago, I listened to an interview with novelist Blake Nelson  on his new book The Red Pill, and he confirmed, “the intellectual energy is on the Right.” This may come as a shock to people of my generation who came of age with George W. Bush as president, famous for his many great Bushisms.  But he’s right. The radical Left started to die when intersectionality took over the conversation, and suddenly people were more concerned about interpersonal issues than working-class solidarity.
While the far Left is busy criticizing itself to death , the Right is now the intellectual vanguard.
Maybe liberal democracy, communism, or socialism aren’t the only ways to organize society. What makes a nation-state viable? Are all people equally capable of governing themselves and others? What’s more important, individual freedom or the collective self-actualization of a community? Where do you draw the line between community and outsider? What do functioning societies have in common? Is multiculturalism really a good thing?
Conferences like the Scandza Forum and Awakening are places where you can ask these questions in real life. Or just enjoy the company of other intellectually curious people.  You don’t have to worry about people “pre-judging” you because you’re a cis-whatever. And it’s a space where, dare I say it: “It’s okay to be white.”
Going to Scandza was a big deal. I’d wanted to go for two years but had never been overseas in my life. I didn’t even have a passport when I registered for the conference. That’s how out-of-the-realm-of-possibility travel was.
After three days of persuasion, a pop-up deal on airfare, and convincing myself I probably didn’t need to eat while I was there,  the pieces fell into place. I got the first quarter bonus at work, bought my ticket, sent in the paperwork for my passport and booked a room. After 20 hours and one missed connecting flight later, I was in Stockholm.
Not only was this my first time abroad, but it was significant for me even more so since I’d been doxed and then constantly harassed by a few people with far too much time on their hands for about two weeks before the trip. An anonymous blog post (which is actually pretty hilarious, but I won’t link to it here since I refuse to give them the page views) revealed that I’d been writing under a pseudonym for Counter-Currents and organizing The Northwest Forum.  According to this reputable source, I was some kind of racist immigrant hating white supremacist.
When something like that happens, you’re constantly wondering who knows the real you, the person they’ve known for decades, and who just believes the online hype. You turn every street corner half-expecting that someone wheat-pasted your gorgeous face on the telephone box . . . again.
At this point, staying “underground’ as Samantha wasn’t really an option for me anymore. But I was sick of that name anyway.
During the Q&A portion of Frodi Midjord’s speech at Awakening, someone asked, “Should I dox myself?”
His reply was spot on, “When you go public with your views you will realize that you could take the punch. Before you’ve tried it, it’s very scary . . . but then when it happens . . . you have lots of other people around to support you . . .”
A few days earlier, a friend sent me this short clip  for motivation when I was especially down. Once you’re out there, once you’ve had your character attacked all over social media, you realize it’s not that big of a deal. It won’t kill you. On top of it, maybe you’ll find out you had more close friends than you realized.
“If you feel like it, why not?” Frodi concluded. “The more people who do it, the easier it gets for the next person.”
Mark Collett told the story of when he was harassed as a candidate for the British National Party. I love the way he tells it, so it’s transcribed below. (Although, you should certainly listen to it here too  so you get all the emphasis. Mr. Collett is a great public speaker.)
When I first stood as a candidate, the Marxists came to my house and they smashed the windows. They threw bricks through the downstairs front windows . . . luckily there weren’t any back windows to smash as well. But they smashed the front windows, and the landlord put new glass in. Then they smashed the front windows again. And again until the landlord refused to put any more glass in. He just boarded them up.
But I like to live on the bright side, the sunny side. I like to have a smile on my face so I said, well, although I’m not getting much sunshine, if the zombie apocalypse breaks out, I will surely survive.
And when I had no windows to smash, they painted a huge swastika on my car. And that was interesting. But because I have a healthy sense of humor . . . I drove to the supermarket and did my shopping anyway.
But you see, the more I stood up, and the more people saw me stand up, the more people also stood as candidates . . . and when we all stood up together, there was no more swastikas or bricks because there was too many of us. People were no longer scared. We’d built a resistance. We built a community.
For eleven days, I got to experience real community. There were about 200 people at both conferences, most of them unique to each. Pseudonym or none, there’s no replacement for real life person-to-person bonds with other people working toward the same goals.
For eleven days, I got to ignore the anonymous online threats and comments. I didn’t have to worry about any weird interactions with the neighbors.  I was on the other side of the world. I was surrounded by real people who left the safety of the internet to discuss the ideas I was vilified for.
When you’re surrounded by friends, nothing can phase you. In Finland, a handful of us grabbed drinks at a nearby bar after the conference, and a (probably very drunk?) man walked into the bar screaming, “[unintelligible Finnish] NAZIS!” We all just shook our heads and laughed at the crazy dude. It’s all about perspective.
Before I tell everyone to dox themselves, I should say there is some utility in “going underground.” Everyone determines their own level of privacy and involvement. And everyone else must respect that decision.
As a “secret agent,” you can move about freely in the short term. You won’t be banned from the Schengen zone  or barred from the US when you try to marry your fiancée . If you get “zucc’d” from your Facebook account, you can always make a new one.
Maybe you can work for a tech firm in a globalist environment, document the madness at work for posterity, but secretly donate to organizations like Counter-Currents, Scandza, Awakening, or people who have the gift of public speaking or organizing events.
Ultimately though, we can’t rely on the internet to shape the political climate. The internet is a tool but it will never replace face-to-face relationships. Ideas spread only on the internet will never reach the mainstream.
As Mark Collett said, “. . . as much as the internet spreads our message, it wasn’t designed to do that. Facebook wasn’t designed to help us . . . Facebook was designed to disconnect us. To turn our lives into our own tawdry soap operas.”
Facebook, Instagram, Tinder, Twitter etc. are all proxies for real human interactions. They put us into echo chambers of content. They enslave us to those little dopamine hits whenever one of your “friends” hits the like button. Have you ever felt weirdly empty when you look at your phone and there are *gasp* NO notifications? That’s real. We’ve all been there.
While not everyone takes advantage of it, there’s a darker side to adopting an online alias too. Social media not only makes us depressed, but it allows you to put on another face. Would someone call me “neo-Nazi scum” to my face? Probably not. An online alias allows someone to avoid personal responsibility for their words. And that applies to everybody, left and right. Would “white sharia” ever have become a “thing” if discussed in real life? Probably not. If we want serious political change, we need serious people.
The night after I got back from Finland, I attended a dinner held by VDARE. Peter Brimelow’s view of the future is a little pessimistic regarding freedom of speech on the internet. In his address, Mr. Brimelow explained that, due to the increasing deplatforming on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram etc., person-to-person communication may at some point be what we’re left with.
But there’s a silver lining. Maybe we’ll start trusting each other more. Maybe we’ll realize there are things more important than chasing the safe bourgeois lifestyle. But most of all, Right or Left, maybe we’ll learn to treat each other like humans again.
If you have the chance, go out to these conferences. Meet people. And just be yourself.
  Milk is wholesome and delicious.
  And good food! Ironically, the best Swedish meatballs I ate were actually the ones served at Awakening in Finland. I met a man who previously worked at the Renton IKEA who agrees.
  Food budget? I know! I can save by not eating! Protein powder! Does anyone else travel like this? I know you’re out there . . . Yeah, I broke down and got the meatballs . . .
  I guess three pieces qualifies me as a “prolific writer.” I’m honored! Turns out though, no one in the IWW General Defense Committee actually read what I wrote . . . Thinking is hard for their tiny minds.
  For some people, the most exciting thing that will ever happen to them is to live next to someone with different political views. So they work themselves into an emotional frenzy and savor it.