the world in which i was raised looked nothing like this. i was in part raised by a black man. my business employed local blacks and allowed them to participate where none locally had ever before. it was the beginning of my stories to match the following ones. it fully appears to me that the nation is being intentionally taken down several levels, and perhaps for the great reset;

This is part of our continuing series of accounts by readers of how they shed the illusions of liberalism and became race realists.

My sister was held up at gunpoint by a random group of young blacks while on a playground with some college friends. Her white friend was pistol-whipped in front of her. My parents and I drove to that state immediately after and visited that part of town. It was five minutes away from her school.
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Another sister fled her city and her newly-redesigned home, pregnant and married, after a group of black men broke into her neighbor’s apartment and gang-raped a woman at gunpoint, in front of her boyfriend, before robbing them. At the time I thought it was a shame to give up after the hard work of building a home; but looking back, I’m glad she left.
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In that same city, eating dinner with my family, I noticed blue police lights flickering outside in the street. We walked out and saw that my sister’s car had had its windows smashed, and police officers had three black boys in handcuffs sitting on the ground next to it. My sister felt angry and violated and was in a state of shock. This was the second time her car had had its windows smashed and been looted. My father asked if he could have a word with the blacks and tried to explain to them that he spends much of his working hours in legal outreach to the black community, trying to help them, and why did they do this?
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In college in a West Coast city, I befriended a Haitian man, around age 50, who was being kept afloat by local charities. He said he had a daughter and needed money for her diapers. In the next sentence, he also said that he needed money for her art lessons. We let him into our apartment for food and conversation and handed him a few bills. A few days later, our place was broken into and robbed of cash and musical instruments; we never saw him again........read more...........