I am a daughter of the South, raised in the sixties and seventies in a large, upper-middle class family of French, English, and German stock. As was common back then, my family had black maids. My siblings and I loved them deeply and developed a bond with them that lasted our whole lives. My father paid them far above the typical wage, in addition to managing their social security accounts, so they would have an income in their advanced years. They were treated well. They knew they were respected.

I am a victim of anti-white racism. In May 2012, three black guys beat me up for no other reason than being white. I was called “cracker,” “honky,” “white boy,” “faggot,” and several other names before getting punched in the face so hard, I lost three of my front teeth. And for what? Nothing more than the color of my skin! And they call white cops “racists.” All I did was park my car, step out onto the lot, and suddenly I was swarmed. I did nothing to provoke them. I stood up for myself, but it was impossible for me to handle three attackers at once. Blacks always attack when they have a clear numeric advantage.