Bullies: Right Wing Extremism & Zionist conspiracy theory; A personal account
This article will be brief and to the point, and will not contain a fulsome account of the topic. However, it will outline and explain, in summary, a question I often get asked:
‘what drew you to the white supremacist movement?’
I believe the answer to this is likely true for others as well, at least it seems that way.
The Back Story
When I was a boy, from I attended eleven schools across Canada prior to grade eight. I also suffered physical and sexual abuse from parents, which included multiple step dads. I was an angry child and young man, with just cause.
I struggled in school, because I never had been provided with enough stability to make friends as a result of moving around so much. One of the ways I coped with my life circumstance was that I lashed out at others, usually against people who were mean and bullies. When we would move and I attended new schools, I usually beat up the bullies and kept to myself. It got me into a lot of trouble.
The only comic book I read was The Punisher. I felt the world needed people like Frank Castle (the character known as The Punisher) because the system did not help people in trouble, in my experience. I aspired to have principles like Castle, who had lost his family to violence associated with the drug trade. This was a story that I could relate to, as I had grown up in a household filled with drug/alcohol addiction and abuse. The Punisher was my hero.
I left home at age twelve. I travelled from Toronto to BC to escape my family home. By fifteen I ended up being given a two-year juvenile detention sentence. In juvy, I also targeted bullies. I did not tolerate people abusing myself or others. I saw myself as somewhat of a vigilante at times. I took matters into my own hands and dished out street justice where I believed it was right to do so. I was angry and lacked education, and direction.
The Rez
Historically, my non-aboriginal family were the abusers. My safe haven was the Indian Reserve. My kohkum’s (Cree for Grandma) house was free from drugs, booze and abuse. No one even fought at her home. Indigenous culture (law), demanded that kohkum’s space was to be given the utmost respect. She often smudged and prayed in the morning and afternoon, but never in the dark. She was also always busy cooking soup, drying meat and tanning hides. This was my safe space, but at one point kohkum left town, and my father (one of the men believed to be my father), was drinking while she was gone. He and his mates began picking on me, so I left; one of the men had beat me up because I was white. I never came back to kohkum’s house, nor did I ever tell her what happened. I felt like I was the problem, because everywhere I went, drunk men beat me up.
I sought refuge in town on an old Metis Settlement called Moccasin Flats, which was re-named Sesame Street (proper road name is Wabi Crescent). I stayed with friends. I slept in basements and yards. Our group stuck together. The white guys in town, the hockey pucks, often targeted aboriginal kids. They chased us down and beat us up. They ganged up on us. So we fought back, in numbers. We attacked seven-fold.
For awhile, it became a small town warzone, literally. We literally had giant gang fights, up to about forty people. It was a volatile environment. We won. We ruled, because we were in the right as we fought back against racism and abuse. We were self-empowered by taking the law into our own hands.
After sometime, our group’s reputation became known as a gang. We were selling drugs, set up a chop shop and other organized un-speakables. After sometime, I was sentenced to juvvy.
The Streets
On the streets, it was much like my home life in some regards; either you are predator or prey. I had chosen to be a predator of sorts. I attacked people that were pedophiles, child abusers, woman beaters and ‘assholes’. I felt justified in my actions to such a point that vigilantism became my vent. In the pits and traps of my psyche, I justified my actions by seeing my role as a karma balancer; dishing out punishment upon those who targeted the vulnerable.
The white power movement
Most of my life, I was associated with friends and family who were aboriginal; primarily Cree. One of my best mates was convicted of a sexual assault charge, after that happened I distanced myself from all of my friends and family who were aboriginal. My safe spaces were all affected by abuse. I had no where to turn.
One day I met two boneheads (nazi skinheads). While I was talking with them, I saw a man walk by who I had fought with in the past. He was a known pimp, of young girls; as young as twelve. He was a gang banger. We had hurt him pretty bad in the past. His gang tried to pull off a home invasion at my apartment, but it did not work out well for them. I disarmed the one guy of a gun, and they ended up with broken bones and shot up. When I saw him walk by, as I stood there talking with these boneheads, I grabbed him and beat him until the ambulance came.
The boneheads were impressed and instantly embraced me. They gave me a sense of brotherhood, and offered me an entire library of information that explained who was to blame for the state of the world; and the state of my life.
I was not equipped to fend off the logical fallacies within the white supremacist literature that stated there was a Jewish conspiracy, which intended to control the world and destroy the white race. This half-baked conspiracy theory proclaimed Jews were the enemy of the white race due to their Zionist conspiracy that was essentially setting out to destroy the white race. Sadly, I fell for it; just as all of those in my social circle had.
The movement gave me a sense of purpose. I would be able to play a role to overcome an enemy with a deliberate agenda to abuse me, and society. I became a soldier in a war against a fictional enemy. The fight, I believed, was righteous. Unfortunately I had not been equipped to identify or see through the logical fallacies, and other issues that trap people into extremist narratives.
In my mind, I was still acting as a vigilante against the darkness of a bully; it just so happened that I believed that the enemy was a religious, ethnic and racialized group that was at fault for the state of my life. I was fighting against everything I hated about my own life. I targeted the bully; rather, who I believed to be the bully. I was misled by volumes of books written by people who did not have sufficient insight or education to effectively test logic.
The movement’s literature and teachings explicitly indicated that those who were brainwashed by the Zionist conspiracy were enemies of our movement. That meant, in my mind, that normal citizens became a target in our war against the biggest bully of all bullies; the Zionists. I hurt too many people, and I believed in my heart that I was engaged in a righteous war to protect society. I was right about one thing, abuse sucks; however, it took many years to realize the logical fallacy that I became one of the abusers.
My Healing and Transformation
It took me many years to overcome my own indoctrination into the white supremacist movement. I was a true believer. I acted upon my duty as a soldier in a war against society. I recruited and taught people how to become good soldiers engaged in a racial holy war. I even recruited a Canadian bomber into the movement.
Through education and healing circles within the community, I was able to overcome and transform. I became educated, and learned what a logical fallacy was. I gained a skillset of how to test logic, and to remain teachable enough to see where I was grossly incorrect in belief structure. I also learned to accept my own nature. Lastly, I learned the value of non-violence and exercise of lawful expressions of countering bullies.
Conclusion
Today, one thing has not changed, I do not like bullies and abusers. In my role as an advocate and as a social worker and future lawyer, I maintain reputation with integrity that I will stand up in the face of wrong doings and speak out. I am far from perfect, but when people are abusing people, or myself, I will stand tall with my new skillset and do what is right; to the best of my ability.
I learned that fighting bullies was not necessarily the problem; bullies need to be confronted. It was how I was fighting, and the process in which I arrived to the fight, was deeply flawed. Today I do what I can to make the world a better place by adhering to principles of law and culture that both emphasize human rights.
Those who abuse children, vulnerable persons and identifiable groups are simply bullies.
