My Entry into Politics

     Politics is an integral part of my daily life; repeatedly updating my Instagram account throughout the day, chatting with other young Republicans, classical liberals and Libertarians online, reading political books, writing about it, and of course, watching the news. I wasn’t always a politically active individual, and certainly not one who’d devote time to write about it. The initial, although not the only, nor most important, reason for this change lies behind falling victim to what is now called “white guilt”. The existence of “white guilt” does not sit well with the likes of the politically correct and the Afrocentric community, as it poses the radical idea that those of us in the “white” demographic are immune to racism and condemned to be the eternal, solitary perpetrators of it.
     However, one only has to examine the clear connotation of such a belief to discover that it is inherently racist in and of itself. This belief implies that because the “white” demographic is in a permanent position of superiority, all others are destined to be in a permanent state of powerless victim-hood. In a nutshell, Democrats are telling America and the world that only white people are powerful enough to be racially discriminatory. Growing up in a community that was predominantly black and Latino, I quickly discovered that a steady diet of the Democrat victim-hood narrative will naturally drive one to prove that they are in no such position; it encourages a show of power over theoretical oppressors.
     Being white made me the object of this show of power and it was not easy to live with. Culturally,religiously and even economically I could not be any more similar to my peers, but the one elephant in the room was always my ethnicity. Subject to repetitive use of slurs, oftentimes being ostracized and feeling like the “bad guy”, I confided in friends who didn’t view me for my differences but rather who I was as a person and therefore had a small group of friends. Hip hop was my go to, reminding me that music could cross boundaries, and over time I began to become confident in who I was, and all was well. Until that fateful year of 2008.
    The name Barack Obama first appeared in my life as a white kid in what the layman American person would call the ghetto. Talk of the first “black President” swept through the school like wildfire, as the familiar “Yes We Can” slogan began to be blazoned upon every car in the parking lot. At home, I was confident in the conservative views of my parents, who instructed me to vote according to what the candidate believed in, whereas at school the future President was seen as a civil rights hero championing for minority groups.          Suddenly, that all too familiar feeling of being “different” quickly returned. When I voiced who my parents were voting for at the lunch table, I was met with looks of both horror and anger. Naturally, being kids we were all mouthpieces of our parents’ ideas at the time, but I was genuinely disturbed. Were my parents indeed “racist”?
    So there you have it: my journey into the realm of politics; the journey was not an ideological, emotional, or even educational one. It was a journey of finding myself and the truth about policies that to this day drive hatred, poverty, and fear. To my surprise, I discovered that there are many other young Americans who took the same path. I encourage you to take this blog to heart, to read it as a biography. A biography of all of the young Americans who had been left to shiver naked in the wake of the Democrat/modern Liberal movement & are now clothed in justice & liberty, with a drive to begin rebuilding our world.