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His Beginning

Ten arrested at Ferguson protest.
“How did the cops know we were coming?”

Five arrested in Black Lives Matter road block.
“The cops were there before we were even organized. How did they know?”

One shot at Eric Garner solidarity peace march.
“The cops surrounded us in seconds. It’s like they knew!”

He wasn’t the mole responsible for these security breaches. He wished he was. Sort of. Most white supremacists in the trenches disliked the police and didn’t use them for their missions.

His mission was to divide and conquer black and brown radical communities in America. So far, he had hit New York City, Pittsburgh, Richmond, New Orleans, and Tampa.

How did a white supremacist get close enough to destroy people of color (poc) radical groups?

God chose him.

He grew up thinking he was white. His mother was white, and his father was absent. While looking for a Daddy replacement, he found the KKK. And, they took him in, because he was bright and willing.

Then, he learned of his father’s death and his small inheritance when he was sixteen. He went to the funeral, and there was a black man in his father’s casket. He felt disgusting. He was a black white supremacist. He didn’t know what to do.

So, he went to the Grand Master and told him his dilemma. The Grand Master loved him and decided to shun him instead of kill him.

A few months later, he was abducted and brought to Iowa. There, he met with some of the most powerful leaders of the KKK. They gave him a life mission: he would live among and gain the trust of poc communities, assess their weaknesses, and destroy them. He was to do this or shoot and kill himself. They gave him twenty four hours to decide.

He didn’t eat or sleep during that day. He spent the day on his knees in prayer. He couldn’t understand why God would put him in such a dire position. He stayed on his knees until he understood. He understood that God had created him to be a perfect weapon. God put him in this space, because he was the only one who could fill it. God had made him uniquely for this unique mission.

God chose him.

He went to the leaders and told them he was ready to do the work.

By the time he was twenty one, he had all the trappings of black anarchy. He visited political prisoners becoming the adopted son of a race based cop killer. He read all of the books and daily quoted X and Garvey. He became vegan. He memorized all the songs from the Afro-Punk scene.

And, he went from poc community to poc community studying how their systems flowed and creating division.

He discovered several themes. Three were the most helpful. One: people often believe the worst about themselves and others. Two: the poc groups relied heavily on the assumed power of relationships in the place of real institutional power. Three: the movement relied on the liberation and work of women of color.

Thus, he found the quickest way to stop the work was to divide the women of the community and destroy relationship opportunities.

Vanessa, New Orleans, LA

Vanessa was a bad ass organizer from the South. She was mixed and mixed up. And, she was fat.

After my throwing some attention her way, Vanessa pursued me romantically.

I chose a white woman instead.

As I told her my decision, I saw something in her eyes. Something dimmed and hardened, and something else sparked.

I saw her fighting the old voices in her head that told her she would never be as sexy, as pretty, as worthwhile as a white woman.

As I smiled apologetically, she could no longer look me in the eye. I knew my work was done.

She killed herself two months later. No note.

Grace and Madeline, Richmond, VA

Grace was tricky. She didn’t lie. She didn’t shirk conflict. She did what she said she would do. She fought fair. She really pissed me off.

Luckily, she was a brown person dealing with “black” issues like public housing and the legal kidnapping of black babies from the poorer communities.

So, I turned her into me– an agent of anti-blackness.

I lied to a black woman in Grace’s collective, Madeline, that Grace had accused me of not being black enough.

I chose Madeline, because she was broken. And, broken people love to break others. She was an orphan with an ax to grind.

Wow, did she rip Grace a new one.

The collective disbanded a month later.

Tori, Tampa, FL

“Come stay with me!” Tori exclaimed when she found out I was homeless in Pittsburgh.

She was a refugee working and studying at USF.

She had the type of kindness one develops after being desperately poor.

I stayed with her, rent free, for eight months. I camped out in her little apartment living room.

I used most of her resources.

I also worked to isolate her from her live-in brother, the only family she was close to. She was the one who kept him stable and hopeful.

With my constant input, she gave up on him and kicked him out of the house.

A week later, the brother died instantly after hitting a tree in a single car drunk driving accident.

His Ending

Gerald didn’t like him, a loud, dirty, black man with a white woman. So, he rounded up the boys and some rope and decided to have some Saturday night fun.

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